Italy in the forties was a seething mass of sedition. Verdi's strenuous
melodies, often allied to words in which the passionate patriotism of
his countrymen contrived to read a political sentiment, struck like a
trumpet-call upon the ears of men already ripe for revolt against the
hated Austrian rule. Such strains as the famous 'O mia patria, si bella
e perduta' in 'Nabucodonosor' proclaimed Verdi the Tyrtaeus of awakened
Italy.
'Ernani' was followed by a series of works which, for the sake of
Verdi's reputation, it is better to pass over as briefly as possible.
His success provided him with more engagements than he could
conscientiously fulfil, and the quality of his work suffered in
consequence. There are some fine scenes in 'I Due Foscari' (1844), but
it has little of the vigour of 'Ernani.' 'Giovanna d'Arco' (1845),
'Alzira' (1845), and 'Attila' (1846), were almost total failures. In
'Macbeth' (1847), however, Verdi seems to have been inspired by his
subject, and wrote better music than he had yet given to the world. The
libretto is a miserable perversion of Shakespeare, and for that reason
the opera has never succeeded in England, but in countries which can
calmly contemplate a ballet of witches, or listen unmoved to Lady
Macbeth trolling a drinking-song, it has had its day of success.
'Macbeth' is interesting to students of Verdi's development as the first
work in which he shows signs of emerging from his _Sturm und Drang_
period.
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