Verdi was not a religious man. Indeed, it is fair to say he was,
like many contemporary artists and republicans, anti-clerical
and particularly anti-Pope. They 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.
Verdi equally clearly recognised the place of the Catholic Church
in then contemporary society. Verdi revered two compatriots,
fellow composer Rossini and the writer Manzoni. At the death
of each he proposed the composition of a Requiem (see
review).
That for Rossini was to be a collaborative venture among contemporary
Italian composers. Verdi wrote the
Libera Me but problems
arose in respect of the chorus and orchestra and the project
floundered. Verdi met the costs incurred.
In the year of Rossini’s death Verdi visited his idol Alessandro
Manzoni. He had read Manzoni’s novel
I Promessi Sposi when
aged sixteen and in his fifty-third year 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 many
dialects and foreign administrative languages present in the
peninsula.
When Manzoni died in May 1873, after a fall, Verdi was devastated
to the extent he could not go to the funeral. 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 the writer’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 a 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 abortive
Rossini Requiem Verdi
largely re-wrote it thus ensuring compositional coherence. He
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 chorus of one hundred and twenty the
Requiem was
given and acclaimed. Three days later Verdi conducted another
performance at La Scala. The
Requiem 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 received with
great success in each.
The
Manzoni Requiem, as it is often called, has been referred
to by some cynics as Verdi’s best opera! Certainly the
greatest recorded performances seem to have been under the baton
of renowned opera conductors. After a long apprenticeship, extended
by the Second World War, Solti made his name as music director,
first of the Munich (1946-1952) and then of the Frankfurt Opera
(1952-1961) and particularly in the German repertoire. This brought
him to the notice of Decca who signed him up to conduct the first
ever complete recording of Wagner’s
Ring cycle.
He seemed then, and later, to lack the same depth of empathy
with the Italian school of composers including Verdi.
Whilst Giulini’s studio recording of the work from the
same period (EMI) has a unity of near spiritual essence, Solti’s
interpretation, as evidenced here is anything but unified. It
varies greatly in both tempi and modulation. As in his later
studio recording for Decca (411-944-2), he whips up a passion
in the
Dies Irae (CD 1 tr.2) whilst elsewhere he is unduly
languorous as in the
Lacrimosa (Cd 1 tr.11). Added to
this variability is the quality of the solo singing and the acoustic.
The whole is set in a resonant acoustic. The orchestra are placed
well back on the sound-stage with the chorus and soloists set
behind and often overwhelmed. Gré Brouwenstijn, so distinguished
in Giulini’s incomparable live recording of
Don Carlo from
Covent Garden (see
review)
in May 1958, is vocally distinctly more variable with a lack
of steadiness. She sounds strained at times as well as exhibiting
a tendency to scoop up to notes (CD 1 tr.2 and CD 2 tr.3). The
mezzo Oralia Dominguez has a steadier and welcome creamy tone.
Of the men Nicola Zaccaria is sonorous with his
mors stupebit in
the
Tuba mirum (Cd.1 t.4). Giuseppe Zampieru has no particular
vocal distinction or phrasing in the
Ingemisco (Cd 1 tr.8).
If at this stage of his career I find Solti to have little empathy
for Verdi, then he has even less for Rossini being far too metronomic
in approach. He treats the bonus tracks as orchestral showpieces
as he might in the days when an orchestral concert consisted
of an overture, a concerto and a symphony. That approach is valid
in this way. However, after hearing these pieces in the context
of complete performances, as is our privilege courtesy of the
various recorded media of our day, expectations of integration
of composer style are much higher. Solti’s exaggerated
dynamics are not welcome. That said, these pieces do have the
benefit of a more normal recorded sound.
Robert J Farr
Reviews of Verdi's Requiem on Musicweb
Gré Brouwenstijn
(soprano); Oralia Dominguez (mezzo); Giuseppe Zampieru (tenor); Nicola
Zaccaria (bass) 
