VERDI'S NEW OPERA.

Evening Star, Issue 7177, 2 April 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

VERDI'S NEW OPERA.

A GLORIOUS TRIUMPH. EXCITING SCENES. The papers are full of the production of Verdi’s “Otello”at La Scala on Saturday Feb. 5, which seems to have been one long triumph from beginning to end. Even such critics as Dr Hueffer and Mr Beatty-King-ston, who seldom praise and never gush, are moved to speak with enthusiasm of the opera itself, though they have plenty of fault to find with its execution. Great regret is expressed on all hands at the retirement of Christine Nillson (who marries the wealthy Count Miranda next month), as it seems probable she is the one living artist who could at once look and sing the part of Desdemona to perfection. No doubt Patti will be the first exponent of the part in London, Maurel retaining the r9le of lago, in which he appears to have made such a hit. Of the initial performance the ‘ Telegraph’s ’ special wires: — “ Milan was in an excited state yesterday, and, as evening drew on, the streets near La Scala presented an extraordinary spectacle to an English eye. The whole population of tne great Lombard city seemed to be taking a deep personal interest in the event so near at hand. Some besieged the entrances to the unreserved seats with a patience that endured for eight or ten hours; but the multitude were ‘outer-court worshippers,’ who nevertheless worshipped with a will. At an early period of the afternoon the street leading from Verdi’s hotel to the theatre was filled with people anxious to see and cheer their illustrious countryman. The master’s progress along that thoroughfare was an ovation, the crowd being more than ready to discount his success in probably the last great effort of his life. They cheered him from one door to the other with a passionate enthusiasm becoming to this people of artistic impulses, doing so none the less when the modest composer seemed to shrink from the ordeal of their homage. “ Within the theatre the scene was of a most brilliant description. Save the Royal box, every paleo in the six tiers that sweep round the magnificent house was crowded with ladies and men in evening dress. If the beauty and fashion of Italy displayed themselves above, the art and literature of all Europe were represented on the floor of the house, whence arose the sounds of every language spoken between the Oural Mountains and the Western Ocean. The mere gathering together of such a crowd was in itself a splendid homage to the hero of the night, and a clear assertion of the fact that the world, with all its aberrations, continues to recognise and to prize a really great man. ‘‘ As Signor Facoio took his seat the general animation subsided; and when he raised bis bdton all was stillness and silence. The long-expected moment had come at lost. There was a crash of dissonance from the orchestra, and up went the curtain on the storm, which, by the way, was rather a tame stage effect. The music, however, was quite the other way, being as little conventional as storm-music can ever be. Sustained with wonderful vigor, it yet did not come out from its proper place as an accessory. It was a storm accompaniment to the words of the characters and chorus. The lively impression thus made at the outset was deepened by a prayer quite in Verdi’s old and strenuous manner. Indeed, all this opening music is pure Verdi. There can be no mistaking his sign manual. The safe arrival of the ship, the outcries of the populace, the landing of Othello, and the dying away of the storm were all tersely, vigorously, and vividly illustrated, the audience beginning to feel that a genuine masterpiece was unfolding itself.

“ The dialogue following Othello’s appearance may be referred to as typical of much other in the work, being musical declamation unaccompanied by the symphonic orchestra to which many modern composers have accustomed us, and perhaps gaining thereby in dramatic force. This was fol lowed by some festal music, including a very delightful five-part chorus in the Verdi manner, but having decidedly characteristic features. It took the public taste immensely. The house simply roared its delight, and insisted on hearing the number again. It will probably become a favorite out of the opera. Going on to the drinking scene, the music was found keeping up to the saire high level. Specially notable was lago’s ‘ Brindisi,’ which is perhaps more suggestive of Meyerbeer than of Verdi. It is largely accompanied by pizzicato double basses alone. This also had to be repeated. Nervous energy and directness of purpose gave distinction to the whole scene, ending with the fight between Cassio and Roderigo. Othello’s music in the scene of his intervention scarcely came up to what was expected, but any disappointment thus caused was amply atoned for by the love duet with which the act ends. Throughout this beautiful number Verdi is deeply and touchingly eloquent. To expressive and even original melody he adds an accompaniment remarkable for rich harmony and tender coloring, while its effect is heightened by the good judgment of a man who knows when to stop. At the close of this movement Othello sings ‘ Un bacio, un bacio, ancora un bacio !’ the orchestra accompanying with the only representative theme in the work. A profound impression Was made by this duet, although it might have been better sung, and when the curtain fell Verdi was three times summoned to receive the homage of his delighted audience. “ The interest deepened with the opening of the second act, which contains a long series of dialogues calculated to strain even the richest resources. It began charmingly with the graceful and somewhat light music generally employed when Cassio is prominent. lago hero appears in quite a Mephistophelian light, and this gave the composer an opportunity of which he has fully availed himself. The soliloquy beginning ‘ I believe in a cruel god, who has made me like himself,’ is a fine example of the cynical and mocking in music. This, being somewhat prolonged, with frequent use of a large unison phrase standing for the 1 Credo, ’ carries on the act with vigor and interest, relieving the equal flow of the dialogue music, which, however, has abundant attractions in itself. Verdi’s success with the dialogues may indeed be described as astonishing, and we can scarcely yearn for the relief intended by the scene of the garden fete. Yet, no doubt, this is a discreet interpolation. It gives the principal characters rest, pleases the lighterhearted portion of the audience, and constitutes a refreshing orchestral interlude, which derives a special character from an accompaniment of mandolini and chitarre. The dialogues are then resumed, and the declamation goes on in the old manner, with fuller help than usual from cantilena passages. In what remains of the act there are two remarkable features ; first a quartet analogous to that in. ‘ Rigoletto,’ though perhaps never likely to supersede it. Desdemona and Othello on the one hand, Emilia and lago on the other, take part in this interesting example of structural ingenuity and dramatic characterisation. The second feature is the solo in which Othello bids farewell to the “tented field.” Verdi has written this with full consciousness of its importance, and the result is a grand piece of forcible declamation. Other points in the act might be dwelt upon, for, indeed, the whole is worthy of the closest attention and unstinted admiration, It is simply marvellous to note with how much fertility of fancy and vigor of expression the venerable composer has dealt with scenes in their very nature so exigent. The reception of the act was all that it should have been. If the audience were less noisy than before they were more abaci bed. The master held them in a grasp which relaxed only when the curtain fell, and then it must be granted that they made full use of their liberty. Verdi had to appear on this occasion five times, amid applause which seemed to shake the theatre. The success of the opera was now assured, since nothing could remove the impression hitherto made.

“ To the question whether the composer could pass in the third act with equal good fortune through another series of dialogues, the only possible answer was an affirmative one ; and it is rather remarkable that while this act is undoubtedly not up to the level of the others, the weakness. appears not in solo, but ensemble. At the beginning, for example, we have a fine duet for Desdemona and Othello, distinguished by the most delicate beauty and' pathetic expression, which, if not sustained throughout the

scene wherein Othello demands the handkerchief, gives way only to more vigorous dramatic power. The intensity here attained is very great, and throughout the duet, while using his orchestra liberally, Verdi is careful not to interfere with the due prominence of the vccal parts. After Desdemona left the stage the audience wore enthralled by a soliloquy which, although short, is of rare beauty and profoundest pathos. The voice continues for the most part in monotone, while upon a deep pedal note rest the most touching orchestral strains. Resembling this in music, next comes the scene in which lago artfully contrives to make Casaio compromise Desdomona. The young lieutenant brings with him his customary graceful and pretty music; but while it is hard to find fault with any particular part, the situation is somewhat spun out, and the general effect less striking than usual. All that follows is taken up with the arrival of the Venetian ambassadors and the dialogues and ensembles connected therewith. The eye welcomes the picturesque crowd that now fills the stately Cyprian ball, and no less the diversified action of many characters. Moreover, the music of the scene has its good points, especially the short solos of Desdemona; but somehow the general impression made by the ensemble last night was not quite satisfactory. Verdi has done better things in the same line. The defect may arise from excessive elaboration in dealing with a considerable number of characters, the composer thus frittering away strength which, in all such cases, should be devoted to one overwhelmingly predominant expression. Better acquaintance may modify an opinion which seemed to be that of the audience generally. Certain it is that the demonstrations attending the third fall of the curtain were less marked than before, though as hearty as ever for Verdi personally. “The fourth act, laid wholly in the chamber of Desdemona, is very short, playing only twenty-two minutes; but it contains musical beauty enough to suffice the average modern composer for an entire opera. An orchestral introduction is played in which that most touching of instruments, the English horn, has a solo part, the bassoons filling up occasional intervals with bare fifths, sounding like a funeral knell. When the stage is shown this music continues, accompanying the dialogue of Desdemona and Emilia, and so an advance is made to the ‘ Willow Song,’ one of the simplest and most unaffected things Verdi wrote, and also one of the most moving. Often in this opera does Verdi show the reliance he places upon music of the kind just described. The magic of a plain melody, the charm of a few diatonic chords, are means which this composer, like all great masters, does not disdain to use; with how much wisdom, let the effect of the new ‘ Willow Song ’ decide. The melody, it may be said, is very characteristic, having as strongly-marked features as any national air. When Emilia leaves the room Desdemona sings an ‘Ave Maria,’ partly in monotone, attended by muted strings, partly in cantilena phrases of a simple devotional character. This is another gem, which before long will shine with gentle radiance in the concert-rooms of the world. Let soprano artistes look to it (as they will if they be wise), for it is a sure success with cultivated and uncultivated alike. At its close the atmosphere of innocence and prayer changes to one of passion and crime. Othello enters, and as he does so the double-basses begin their already famous interlude. Ido not pretend to match this for effect against the prelude played by strings and bassoons in ‘ L’Africaine ’; but its sombre deep-toned phrases, heard as the sinister form of the Moor looms up in the background, is singularly appropriate, This was felt by the entire house, despite an unaccountably bad performance, and an encore was insisted upon. The kiss motivo of the first act is heard as Othello bends over the sleeping form of Desdemona; but the rest is agitation, madness, and despair, musically expressed by simple yet thoroughly efficient means. Happily recognising that the situation is too painful to be prolonged, Verdi brings it to a speedy end. The murder is committed, and the wellknown incidents of Shakespeare follow in due order, with the changes pointed out in a previous despatch. The closing scene is, both dramatically and musically, intensely affecting. In the agonies, of death Othello drags himself to Deademona’s body, repeating the words which closed the love duet in the first act, while, as he does so, the violins whisper the melody of ‘The Kiss.’ Then the curtain falls, and the opera is at an end. “ It is hardly possible to convey aq idea in words of the profound effect made by this beautiful act. Madame Fantaleoni and Signor Tamagno, often inadequate before, rose to the height of the great argument, the one singing the ‘Willow Song’ and the ‘ Ave Maria ’ with deep and tender feeling, the other expressing Othello’s remorse with the directness and power of a real tragedian. Thus fortunate in its exponents, the closing act stood fully revealed as a thing of surpassing beauty.

“ When all was over the enthusiasm of the audience knew no bounds. Verdi appeared again and again, amid tumultuous cheering, to have tributes of various kinds forced upon him. Indeed the public seemed as though they would not again lose sight of their favorite for fifty years past. The demonstrations by no means ended inside the theatre. On leaving La Scala I found the adjacent square and streets filled by a crowd waiting, more or less patiently, for their musical hero. No sooner was Verdi’s carriage recognised than the multitude hemmed it in. Eager admirers detached the horses, and, harnessing themselves, slowly drew the carriage to the hotel, through a dense mass of wildly cheering people. In the meantime the entrance hall and staircase of the hotel had been tastefully decorated and occupied by privileged spectators, who formed a lane through which the great master proceeded to his apartments. The crowd remained for some time cheering in front of the hotel and calling for a speech, bat this to ordeal, of course, the aged composer was not eaual, even if he had been inclined. Night had far advanced before the central part of Milan settled down to its usual quietude. “ The performance is for English readers a matter of little consequence. It might have been better in various respects. The prima donna and tenor were not always equal to their task. The stage management lay open to obvious and easy censure. The chorus was moderately good; but even Signor Faccio’s orchestra, usually so capable, fell short of perfection at important moments. On the other hand, nothing can be said against the mounting of the opera, the dresses being particularly rich and effective. Next to Verdi, the hero of the evening was undoubtedly M. Maurel, who sang splendidly throughout, and whose ranks henceforth amongst the finest of the lyric stage, M. Maurel’s presentation of the character in the second and third acts was full of excellent dramatic points, such as Signor Rossi—who was present—must have been the first to appreciate. I reserve just now some general remarks upon the new opera, which yesterday began a doubtless brilliant career.”