Leon di Castiglia' gave the Venetians an opportunity for a political manifestation in the same spirit as that at the production of 'I Lombardi' at Milan.
'I due Foscari' (Nov. 3, 1844) followed close on 'Ernani.' It was brought out in Rome at the Argentina, but notwithstanding several beauties, the opera is not reckoned amongst the maestro's best. Three months after 'I due Foscari,' 'Giovanna d'Arco' was given at the Scala in Milan (Feb. 15, 1845). The overture alone survives. 'Alzira' (Aug. 12, 1845), performed at the San Carlo at Naples, neither added to nor detracted from its author's popularity; while 'Attila' (March 17, 1846), produced at the Fenice, was the most successful after 'Ernani.' In this opera a cue to political demonstration was given by the aria,
Cara Patria gia madre e Regina,
and by the no less popular line,
Avrai tu l'Universo, resti l'Italia a me.
The habitués of Covent Garden have little idea what 'enthusiastic applause' means in Italy, and in Venice especially, and in what acts of sheer frenzy the audiences of 1846 would indulge to give the Austrian Government an unmistakable sign of their feelings. The overcrowded house was in a perfect roar: clapping of hands, shouts, cries, screams, stamps, thumps with sticks and umbrellas, were heard from every corner, while hats, bonnets, flowers, fans, books of words, newspapers, flew from the galleries and boxes to the stalls, and from the stalls back to the boxes or to the stage—the noise often entirely covering the sound of both orchestra and chorus, and lasting till the police could restore order, or till there was no breath left in the audience.
'Attila' was followed by 'Macbeth' (March 17 [App. p.811 "March 14"], 1847), at the Pergola of Florence. The book was again the work of M. Piave, though to please the poet and the composer, Andrea Maffei, the renowned translator of Byron, Moore, Sohiller and Goethe, did not disdain to write some portions of it. This opera, owing chiefly to the lack of a tenor part, received scant justice in Italy, and still less abroad.
Verdi's fame was now firmly established, and England, following out her programme of attracting everything and everybody with real artistic worth, made a step towards him. Mr. Lumley, the manager of Her Majesty's Theatre, proposed to him to write a new opera, an offer which the composer gladly accepted. 'King Lear' was first named as a fit subject for an English audience, but as love—the steam-power of all operatic engines—had no share in the plot, it was feared that the work would want the first requisite for success. It was therefore settled to take the plot from Schiller's 'Robbers.' Maffei himself was engaged to write the poem, and no less artists than Jenny Lind, Lablache, and Gardoni to interpret it. On this occasion the Muse did not smile on her devotee, and the first performance in London (July 23, 1847), proved no more than what in theatrical jargon is called a succès d'estime; a judgment afterwards endorsed by many audiences. 'I Masnadieri' was not only Verdi's first work for the English stage, but was the last opera conducted by Costa at Her Majesty's previous to his joining the rival house at Covent Garden. This coincidence all but shunted Verdi's intellectual activity into a new track. Lumley, deserted by the fashionable conductor, made a liberal offer to Verdi, if he would act for three years as conductor. Verdi had a strong inclination to accept the offer, but there was a drawback in the fact that he had agreed with Lucca, the publisher, of Milan, to write two operas for him. Negotiations were set on foot with the view of breaking off the agreement, but Lucca would not hear of it, and Verdi had therefore to leave London, take a house at Passy, and write the 'Corsaro' and the 'Battaglia di Legnano.' Had he handled the bâton for three years he would probably not have put it down again, and his greatest works might never have appeared; for a man brought face to face with the practical side of musical business cannot take the flights which are found in 'Rigoletto,' the 'Trovatore,' and the 'Traviata.'
'Il Corsaro' (Oct. 26 [App. p.811 "Oct. 25"], 1848, Trieste) was a failure. 'La Battaglia di Legnano' (Jan. 27, 1849, Rome), though welcomed on the first night, was virtually another failure. Those who can remember the then political condition of Italy, and the great though unsuccessful struggle for its independence, will very easily see how the composer may be justified for not having answered to the call of the Muse. While so stirring a drama was being played in his native country, the dramatis personæ of the Corsaro and the Battaglia di Legnano were too shadowy to interest him. During the summer of 1849, when the cholera was making ravages in France, Verdi, at his father's request, left Paris and went home, and he then bought the villa of S. Agata, his favourite residence, of which we shall give a description further on.
It was in the solitude of the country near Busseto that 'Luisa Miller' was composed for the San Carlo of Naples, where it was produced with great and deserved success on Dec. 8, 1849. The poem, one of the best ever accepted by an Italian composer, was the work of M. Cammarano, who took the plot from Schiller's drama, and adapted it most effectively to the operatic stage.
In connection with Luisa Miller we shall relate an authentic incident illustrating the way in which the superstitious blood of the south can be stirred. The word 'jettatore' is familiar to anybody acquainted with Naples. It means somebody still more to be dreaded than an evil angel, a man who comes to you with the best intentions, and who yet, by a charm attached to his person, unwittingly brings all kinds of accidents and misfortunes upon you. There was, at this time, one M. Capecelatro, a non-professional composer, and a frantic admirer of all musicians, and, welcome or not welcome, an unavoidable friend to them. He was looked upon as a 'jettatore,' and it was an accepted fact in all Nea-
