its energy is being exhausted in repairing the consequences of the genius of its blunderers, who somehow are generally and everywhere in power, and rampant. Chiefly from shame, the rejection of Verdi at the Conservatoire has been industriously excused, but the mistake shall always stand to the discredit of Francesco Basili, the then Principal. Men like Verdi—men of metal—may be hindered, but are rarely defeated by obstacles, or long-refused justice. Verdi had fixed his heart and eyes on a mark which he has never left, and in this respect, if in no other, he is a model for every earnest struggling student.

Verdi had now to look elsewhere for that training which he had hoped to obtain at Milan. "Think no more about the Conservatoire," said his friend Rolla to him. "Choose a master in the town; I recommend Lavigna."

Vincenzo Lavigna was an excellent musician, and conductor at the theatre of La Scala. To him, accordingly, Verdi went for practical stage experience and familiarity with dramatic art principles. This was in 1831, when the pupil was eighteen years old. Lavigna could not have desired a more exemplary pupil than Verdi was, and the master lost no time before taking his charge into the broad expanse of practical theatre work. All the drudgery of harmony, counterpoint and composition generally, had been learned and committed to heart long before; it was practice and experience in the higher grades of planning and spacing libretti, and the scoring of scenas and concerted numbers for operas, that Verdi needed. This Lavigna could and did give him. Verdi, on his part, showed such aptitude for dramatic composition that Lavigna was greatly pleased. "He is a fine fellow," said Lavigna to Signor Barezzi, who had called to inquire as to the progress of his protégé; "Giuseppe is prudent, studious, and intelligent, and some day will do honour to myself and to our country."

The death, in 1833, of Provesi, the guiding musical spirit of Busseto, meant another episode in Verdi's career. By the conditions of the loan from the trustees of the "Monte di Pieta" of Busseto, he was to return home from Milan to take up Provesi's duties. Such a heritage of work, including the post of organist at the duomo, the conductorship of the Musical Society of Busseto, much private teaching, etc., kept Verdi well employed; but it did not deter him from a regular and assiduous prosecution of his operatic studies. He worked with an almost unbounded will and pride in Busseto. Why? Because there was present there a power which fired him with enthusiasm and ambition; otherwise the call from Milan might have been a difficult step for him to take; one word, however, will explain all—Verdi was in love!

CHAPTER III
COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE, AND FIRST OPERATIC SUCCESS

Verdi is engaged to Margarita Barezzi—His marriage—Seeks a wider field in Milan—An emergency conductor—Conductor of the Milan Philharmonic Society—His first opera, Oberto, Conte di San Bonifacio—Terms for production—Its success—A triple commission—A woman's sacrifice—Clouds—Death of his wife and children—Un Giorno di Regno produced—A failure—Verdi disgusted with music—Destroys Merelli contract—The Nabucco libretto forced on Verdi—Induced to set the book—Production of Nabucco with success—Opposition from the critics—Mr. Lumley gives Nabucco in London—Its performance and reception.

When Verdi took the office stool in Barezzi's counting-house, there was little reason to suppose that he would get much beyond it; but he was to become something more than an employé. He was often invited to join the family circle, and so became acquainted with the eldest daughter, Margarita—a girl of beautiful disposition, with whom Verdi fell violently in love. The young lady returned his affection, and Signor Barezzi, with his usual kindly feeling towards Verdi, not opposing the engagement—albeit Verdi was extremely poor—the young people were married in 1836. Upon this occasion all Busseto turned out en fête.

Now had Verdi every incentive to work, for his young wife bore him a son and a daughter within two years of their marriage, and he longed for an operatic success that would add to his slender income. The prospect of a large family, and no means to support it with, was a painful piece of mathematics, the solution of which depended entirely upon himself. Alas! could he but have foreseen his almost immediate release from such love chains!

While thus musing, the fire kindled. Verdi made up his mind to relinquish working in Busseto and try his fortune in Milan. Accordingly, in 1838, he, with his wife and children, set out for that musical centre, carrying their belongings with them, and with his stock-in-trade—a score of a musical melodrama entitled Oberto, Conte di S. Bonifacio—under his arm. This composition was his first attempt at a complete opera. Every pain had been taken with the score; and not only was each note Verdi's own, but the full score, and all the vocal and instrumental parts, had been copied out with his own hand. What labour! and yet the hard (we might say thick) headed man rejoices in the belief that musicians, big and little, are a lazy lot!

None too speedily, an opening presented itself at the Milan Philharmonic Society. Haydn's Creation was to be given, and the conductor had failed to put in an appearance. Suddenly Verdi was espied, whereupon Masini, a director, approached and begged him to take the conductorship that evening. In those days conducting was managed, not with a bâton and a rostrum, but from the pianoforte in the orchestra, and Masini considerately informed Verdi that if he would play the bass part merely, even that would be sufficient! Verdi acquiesced, and, amid starings and titterings, made for the conductor's seat and score. "I shall never forget," Verdi has said, "the sort of sarcastic approval that crossed the faces of the knowing ones. My young, thin, and shabbily-attired person was little calculated, perhaps, to inspire confidence." Yet Verdi astonished everybody. He gave not only the bass line, but the whole of the pianoforte part, bringing the performance to a successful termination. Not from that night need he have been without an appointment as a musical conductor; indeed, it was shortly afterwards that the conductorship of the Milan Philharmonic Society was offered to, and accepted by Verdi.

Possessed almost by the demon of the stage, Verdi sorely wanted a trial for his opera. To obtain a first hearing then, however, meant the surmounting of considerable obstacles. The avenues of art were not open as they now are—when a season is made up almost wholly of "first nights," and when wealthy or well-backed aspirants can have, not only their own theatres, but their own critics, and even their own newspapers and audiences. Such is money! Eventually Verdi got what he wanted. Oberto, Conte di S. Bonifacio was to be produced at La Scala theatre in the spring of 1839; but even this arrangement was put off because a singer fell ill. Sick at heart, Verdi was retreating to Busseto, when the impresario of La Scala sent for him unexpectedly. Signor Bartolomeo Merelli had heard from the singers who had been studying Oberto respecting the uncommon quality of its music, and the opinions of the vocalists Signora Strepponi and Signor Ronconi were not to be lightly regarded. The outcome of the interview was an agreement by