Page:The Spirit of French Music.djvu/125



True greatness prevails in the end. I know no more striking proof of this than the fate of Verdi's work. At one time the intolerance of the Wagnerian sect—it is not among that sect that the intelligent admirers of Wagner's music must be looked for—reigned supreme over music, imposing its pedantic ostracisms, and immolating at the feet of its idol everything that might be worthy, I will not say to supersede, but to counterbalance its cult: but the members of the sect never attacked Verdi. Nothing could be more significant than this reserve. Verdi is extremely vulnerable. Much evil might be spoken of his art not merely from the point of view of Wagnerian doctrine, but from the point of view of the laws of good music in general. True, but when this article of criticism and also of plausible depreciation has been exhausted the result will be to emphasise the superb power and vitality of the genius whose expression victoriously sweeps away the effect of all these blemishes. That is why Verdi has never been attacked. No one has set about to remove him from his pedestal. The fanatics, as I call those who love Wagner more than they love music, may have growled at that great name, but they have never bitten him.

Nothing is nobler or purer in the history of great artists than this master's life. Born in the hamlet of Roncole in 1813 (the same year as Wagner) of humble parents who kept an inn, he grew and throve where he was born. At the age of twelve he was the village organist. Soon a merchant of Busseto, the neighbouring town, named Barezzi, interested himself in him and took him as a clerk, but left him time for music.