Early in 1846, the impresario at the Teatro alla Scala mounted anew production of Verdi’s Attila so incompetent that the enragedcomposer swore he would never set foot in that theater again.Instead, he accepted an offer from Alessandro Lanari, a Florentineimpresario with a reputation for good management and a devotionto high standards of production. Verdi believed that although LaScala was larger and better equipped, Lanari’s talents at the Teatrodella Pergola would make for a successful premiere.

Verdi, no less than Richard Wagner, was deeply committed notonly to the libretto and the staging of opera, but to the singers’interpretation of their characters. He possessed both the under-

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In 1846, having completed seven operas in four years, Verditurned his attention to Shakespeare, whom he revered, withthe intention of creating an opera based on Macbeth. He was

determined to combine Shakespeare’s theatricality with the “fantas-tico”—the supernatural emanating from the appearances of thewitches, the ghost of Banquo in the banquet scene, and the hauntedapparitions of the kings of Scotland.

Giuseppe Verdi and the Creation of Macbeth

“This tragedy is one of the greatest creations of Man!”

Dr. Evan Baker is an educator, writer, and lecturer on operatichistory and production. He contributes regularly to several publi-cations, including San Francisco Opera Magazine.

BY EVAN BAKER

standing of effective stagecraft and the conviction to elicit not justthe sound but also the emotion of the drama from his singers.

Francesco Maria Piave, Verdi’s longstanding librettist and closefriend, began drafting the libretto in August, 1846. He expandedand versified Verdi’s suggested prose texts taken from Shakespeare’splay. The entire process of writing the libretto and composing themusic took six months; the orchestra score itself was completed onlydays before the premiere. The collaboration between Piave andVerdi has left us with a rich correspondence that has only recentlybegun to be published in full. Their letters not only document theoften difficult process of creating a libretto, but also offer views ofItalian politics, descriptions of theatrical personalities, and gossip.Occasional flare-ups of irritation and anger during the heat of artis-tic creation are also present, as well as conciliatory words of affec-tion. (Generous portions of the correspondence can be read inAndrew Porter’s and David Rosen’s Macbeth. A Sourcebook publishedby W.W. Norton.)

Piave did his best work for Verdi, who understood the art ofcrafting a libretto better than most composers. Verdi often pestered,badgered, and bullied the compliant librettist during their collabo-ration and showed a sure instinct for the theatrical and the dramaticin his final selection of operatic plots. During their long relationship,Verdi was cautious of any story that lacked action and, particularlywith Piave, he demanded concise librettos.

The libretto for Macbeth proved to be one of the team’s most dif-ficult creations—Verdi expected a top-quality product from Piave.Several letters reveal the composer’s passion for his subject.

September 4, 1846 Here is the draft of Macbeth. This tragedy is one of the great-est creations of man! … If we cannot make something greatwith it, let us at least try to do something out of the ordinary.The draft is clear: unconventional, simple, and short. I begyou to make the verses also short; the shorter they are themore effect you’ll make… . Oh I beg you, don’t neglect thisMacbeth, I beg you on my knees; take care with it for me, if forno other reason but for my health, which is now good butbecomes immediately bad if you upset me… Brevity and sub-limity…

Three weeks later, after receiving an early draft of the text, an exas-perated Verdi wrote Piave:

September 22, 1846How wordy you always are!! … As for the introduction [withthe witches], many things need doing. To have character, thewitches’ first strophes should be stranger; I can’t tell you howto do it, but I do know that they are not good the way theyare… in short, experiment and find a way of writing bizarrepoetry… (ALWAYS BEAR IN MIND TO SAY FEWWORDS… FEW WORDS… VERY FEW BUT SIGNIFI-CANT)… . Reduce the duet between Macbeth and Banquoto six lines apiece and, that is to say, take out all those awful

lines that I pointed out in my other letter to you. (I REPEAT,FEW WORDS.)

As for the number you sent before, I’d have to cross outalmost everything, so you’ve got to get those numbers intoshape before going any further, so that I can get on with thecomposing… CONCISE STYLE!… FEW WORDS… .Understood?

Newly discovered letters from this period reveal a lighter aspect toVerdi’s personality, which can be manifested only between closefriends. Even Verdi’s early letters reflect some of his humor when headdressed Piave as “Sior Ludro.” “Sior” is a contraction of the Ital-ian Signor, and “Ludro” has two connotations—the first being a ref-erence to “Lutheran” which in Italy implied a heretic; in thisinstance it can also mean to be a “rascal” or a “cheat.” These char-acterizations are also associated with a popular character namedLudro in a trilogy of Italian plays from the 1830s. Not only did Verdi use the epithet, he also used graphic language,again found between close friends. We can only paraphrase Verdi:

November 9, 1846My dearest ___, you’ve been taking it easy with this Macbeth!!… You should know my dear ___ ___ that I can no longerwait as at this moment, I finished the first act and I can’t losetime because of you, Signor ___ ___ of all ___! Send meimmediately the third act! Understood? … If you don’t find away to cut, I’ll emasculate you Sior ___, and you’ll do thepart of Lady Macbeth! Oh, what a lovely sight! What kind ofan effect would that be? With that voice and your grandsinging character! By God, what kind of fortune that wouldbe for you!! So go, cut! Cut!

Dissatisfied with Piave’s final drafts, and seeing that the librettist wasoverextended with simultaneous projects for other composers, Verdicalled on Andrea Maffei, another friend and distinguished Italianpoet and writer, to revise and finish the libretto. Out of this arose amyth that cast Verdi in a poor light, stemming from a published let-ter in a Verdi biography that ostensibly belittled and insulted Piave.Shortly before the premiere of Macbeth on March 14, 1847, Verdiwrote a seemingly harsh letter to Piave:

February 14, 1847I am glad that you’ve understood the situation in the rightway. I assure you that I wouldn’t want your drama for all thegold in the world.

Harsh words indeed. But it turns out that the myth arose from ablatantly erroneous transcription. The autograph of this letter is inYale University, and reads correctly as follows:

I am glad that you’ve understood the situation in the rightway. I assure you that I wouldn’t want to hurt you for all thegold in the world.

While Verdi felt that Maffei was more capable of providing the nec-

Set design of Act III for the Verdi’s 1865 revision of Macbeth,which had its premiere in Paris.

essary verses to complete the libretto, he did not wish to offendPiave to the extent of possibly breaking off their friendship. Ironi-cally, many critics at the premiere savaged portions of the libretto,believing it to be Piave’s work, but in fact they belonged to Maffei.

By mid-October, Verdi was able to send a draft outline of thelibretto to the impresario Lanari. In this letter, we get the firstinkling of the scenic requirements of the opera:

Here is the outline of Macbeth, and you will understand whatwe are dealing with. You see I’ll need an excellent chorus, inparticular the women’s chorus must be very good, since there’llbe two witches’ choruses of the utmost importance. Also, payattention to the stage machinery. In short, the things that needspecial care in this work are: Chorus and stage effects.

I’m convinced that you’ll mount all the rest with thatsplendor which you’re so celebrated for and that you won’ttry to economize. Note also that I’ll need dancers for a grace-ful little ballet at the end of Act III.

Several weeks later, Lanari sent an urgent letter to Piave in responseto the outline of the opera he had just received. This letter is espe-cially interesting for it reveals the impresario’s ideas of planning toensure that preparations proceeded smoothly. The dancing of theaerial spirits posed a potential problem.

As for the notes on the staging you sent me for Macbeth, theyare too concise; you must state the respective numbers of thegroups of extras and how you intend to arrange them, howmany pages, etc. Reckon on a stage like the Fenice’s. You saythe plot you sent, and the notes you now send, are all Romani[Lanari’s production supervisor at the Pergola] needs, butwithout the actual libretto he can’t tell at what points in theaction the apparitions and movements are to take place, andhow the action is to be effected. And having to depend on

this, on the stage machinery, etc. we must be absolutely clearabout it, before placing orders in good time, to achieve a pre-cise performance… . Then let me point out to you that theaerial spirits, which you say must dance, have to be taken out—as I wrote some time ago also to Verdi—because dancing ofany kind is forbidden during Lent, and they are not allowed.Therefore, the idea at that point in the staging must bechanged while there’s still time, so that we won’t then be[forced to cut and] left with a stump… . If you want a carefulproduction, let me have the fuller explanations of the scenicrequirements which I have asked you for, and, if you can,send me the sketches for the costumes. You can surely see foryourself that it is anything but improper to send a copy of thelibretto to the impresario for whom one is writing a newopera, and who has to make arrangements for the decor…

During the composition of the opera, Verdi was constantly thinkingof details for the staging. In a postscript to Lanari dated 22 Decem-ber, Verdi specified:

Banquo’s ghost must make his entrance from underground; itmust be the same actor that played Banquo in Act I. He mustbe wearing an ashen veil, but quite thin and fine, and justbarely visible; and Banquo must have ruffled hair and variouswounds visible on his neck. I’ve gotten all these ideas fromLondon, where this tragedy has been produced continuallyfor over 200 years.

Not only did Verdi have a clear vision of the scenic aspects of theproduction; he also knew what he wanted from the leading charac-ters of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. At the beginning of the NewYear, Verdi wrote to the soprano Mariana Barbieri-Nini, makingsuccinct observations about the part of the Lady Macbeth:

Verdi:

“Bear in mind

that every word

has a meaning,

and that it is essential

to express it both

with the voice

and with the acting.”

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First, the character of the part is resolute, bold, extremelydramatic. The plot is taken from one of the greatest tragediesthe theatre boasts, and I have tried to have all the dramaticsituations drawn from it faithfully, to have it well versified, andto give it a new texture, and to compose music tied so far aspossible to the text and to the situations; and I wish this ideaof mine to be well understood by the performers; indeed, Iwish the performers to serve the poet [Shakespeare] betterthan they serve the composer.

At the end of January, Verdi went further in his description with thesleepwalking scene:

The notes are simple and created with the action in mind,especially in the sleepwalking scene, which, so far as the dra-matic situation is concerned, is one of the most sublime the-atrical creations. Bear in mind that every word has ameaning, and that it is essential to express it both with thevoice and with the acting. Everything is to be said sotto voceand in such a way as to arouse terror and pity.

The role of Lady Macbeth continued to occupy Verdi thoughts,even a year after the premiere. When he learned that EugeniaTadolini, a beautiful singer, was to portray the character at theTeatro San Carlo in Naples, he wrote to Salvadore Cammarano,the librettist and resident stage director, that while appreciatingTadolini’s “attractive appearance, I would like Lady Macbeth to beugly and evil. Tadolini sings to perfection; and I would like the Ladynot to sing. Tadolini has a stupendous voice, clear, limpid, powerful;and I would like the Lady to have a harsh, stifled, and hollow voice.Tadolini’s voice has an angelic quality; I would like theLady’s voice to have a diabolical quality!”

At the same time, Verdi had to contend with the egosof singers and complained to Lanari: “I’m sorry to hearthat the singer who does Banquo’s part doesn’t want todo the ghost as well. And why not? Singers must behired to sing and act; moreover, it’s high time that these‘traditions’ were abandoned. It would be monstrous forsomeone else to do Banquo’s ghost, because Banquoshould look exactly the same, even when he’s a ghost.”

What was Verdi like as a stage director during therehearsals? This period of time, particularly as the pre-miere draw closer and closer, is filled with high tension,great stress, and anxiety. For Macbeth the situation waseven more difficult, for Verdi was a perfectionist in alldetails and he tolerated no less effort on anyone else’s part.

The rehearsals began in February, and they wereexacting and sometimes difficult. The intense processwent right to the last minute, just before the orchestrabegan to play the overture. Marianna Barbieri-Nini,who sang the part of Lady Macbeth, left priceless mem-oirs of the final rehearsals:

Verdi’s reputation of being a rustic and rough manis due to a certain way of his which he had only in

the theater, with which he armed himself in order to be alwayson guard against the extravagant excesses, against the peculiar-ities and caprices of [singers], who know no logic beyond theroles they are to perform, and no argument beyond applausewhich, if we are to believe them, is never too much… .

The rehearsals of Macbeth, counting both piano andorchestral, came to more than one hundred. Verdi, implaca-ble, did not care if he wearied the artists and tormented themfor hours on end with the same piece: and until that interpre-tation was attained which, to his mind, approximated asclosely as possible the ideal he had envisioned, he did not pro-ceed to the next scene… .

I remember that, morning and evening, in the foyer of thetheater or on stage, we looked at the Maestro with trepidationas he made his appearance, trying to guess by his eyes, orfrom the way he greeted the artists, whether that day therewould be something new. If he came towards me almost smil-ing, and said something that might seem a compliment, I wassure that on that day he had some big addition in store forme at the rehearsal. I bowed my head in resignation.

As for the duet with the baritone that begins: ‘Fatal miadonna, un murmure,’—you may think I am exaggerating,but it was rehearsed more than a hundred and fifty times sothat it might be closer to speech than to singing. Now listen tothis. On the evening of the final rehearsal, with the theatrefull, Verdi insisted that even the soloists should be in costume,and when he set his mind on something, woe if you opposedhim! And so we were dressed and ready, the orchestra inplace, the chorus on stage, when Verdi made a sign to meand Varesi, and called us backstage: he asked us—as a favor

James Morris in the title role of the 1994 production

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to him—to go with him … and rehearse that damned duetagain at the piano.

‘Maestro,’ said I, aghast, ‘we are already dressed in ourScottish costumes: how can we do it?’

‘You’ll put on a cloak.’And the baritone Varesi, fed up with this extraordinary

request, tried raising his voice a little, saying, ‘For God’s sake,we’ve already rehearsed it a hundred and fifty times!’

‘You won’t be saying that in a half hour’s time: it will beone hundred and fifty-one by then.’

We were forced to obey the tyrant. I still remember thethreatening looks Varesi shot at him … with his fist on the hiltof his sword, he seemed to be about to slaughter Verdi, as hewould later slaughter King Duncan. However, he yielded,resigning himself too; and the on hundred and fifty-firstrehearsal took place, while the impatient audience made anuproar in the theater.

This is a good story, and probably apocryphal in part. Nonethelesswe can see how Verdi, driven for success, demanded that the dra-matic theatricality—combined with the music, the libretto, and the

stage production—should achieve its maximum effect. Despite luke-warm critiques in the newspapers, the opera was a rousing successwith the public at the premiere on March 14, 1847.

Macbeth never achieved the popularity of Rigoletto or Trovatore.Verdi, however, continued to value the work and its Shakespeareanassociation. In 1864, Verdi’s French publisher Léon Escudier con-veyed an offer from the Théâtre Lyrique to stage the opera, and thecomposer used this opportunity to completely rewrite portions ofMacbeth’s and Lady Macbeth’s music. Macbeth no longer dies onstage, and the final chorus is new. A ballet, now rarely performed,was added to the witches’ scene in the third act; this version of theopera is most frequently performed today.

The premiere took place without Verdi’s presence on April21, 1865, but it was not a great success. After only fourteen per-formances the opera vanished from the repertory of Parisianopera houses, although it continued to be staged with some regu-larity in Europe. Ten new productions were mounted on theaverage each year until the 1870s; by the end of the nineteenthcentury, the opera sank into obscurity. It would not be until afterWorld War II that Macbeth achieved the continuing success it sorichly deserves.

2 0 0 7 – 0 8 S E A S O N66 S A N F R A N C I S C O O P E R A

Left: Shirley Verrett and Timothy Noble as the treacherous couple in the 1986 production.

Right: San Francisco Opera first presented Macbeth in 1955, with Robert Weede in the title role and Inge Borkh as Lady Macbeth (pictured)

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