A View of Giacomo Puccini
Author(s): D. C. Parker
Source: The Musical Quarterly , Oct., 1917, Vol. 3, No. 4 (Oct., 1917), pp. 509-516
Published by: Oxford University Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.com/stable/737985
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The Musical Quarterly
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A VIEW OF GIACOMO PUCCINI
By D. C. PARKER
WV HAT manner of man is this whose operas are played
upon the stages of all the opera-houses; whose choicest
melodies, wrenched from their environment with a
supreme disregard for the niceties of taste, are pressed into
service to provide a harmonious background for the clatter of
knives and forks in numberless restaurants and compelled to
pay their tribute to modern conditions by being recorded on the
gramophone; to whose airs foreign barons sip their after-dinner
coffee in international hotels? From the North to the Riviera,
from Russia to Buenos Ayres, Puccini is popular. It used to be
said that the works of Verdi had at one time or another occupied
the boards of every self-respecting opera-house in Europe and
America. And it is hardly too much to claim that the same is
true of the composer of "La Boheme." "Fortunate man!" we
exclaim, thinking of the recognition which has come to him.
But it must be remembered that the extent of Puccini's success
is not without its drawback. Conventions die hard and there is
a lingering romantic notion that the real poet is to be found
only in the gutter, the real musician only in the attic. When,
therefore, fate plays us a strange trick and we discover the former
in easy circumstances and the latter with a good dinner to eat
the serious person becomes suspicious. And so it happens that
critical attention is turned in another direction. If rumor speak
truly, there were days in Puccini's youth when a litre of chianti
and an innocent omelette were considerations, but no one can
deny that the compensation has been great.
Puccini was born in 1858. Though still living, Rossini had
written his last work and on the shoulders of Verdi lay the musical
reputation of Italy. That the man was worthy of the responsibility
to which destiny called him will be acknowledged. The remark-
able Pari siamo of "Rigoletto" prophesied the coming of a
new era and there were better things to follow. Verdi alone
had international fame and, as the years passed, it seemed as
though Italy were to be represented only by lesser lights. These
there have been in plenty, but two of them deserve something
more than passing attention. The younger, Arrigo Boito (b.
1842) a gentle Paduan scholar, is a poet with his right hand and
509
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510 The Musical Quarterly
a musician with his left. His main achievement was the writing
of the two admirable libretti, "Otello" and "Falstaff," for Verdi.
The elder, Amilcare Ponchielli, is the most important link between
Verdi and the contemporary writers. Something ought to be
said of this man to whom Puccini is indebted for instruction in
the higher technique of composition. If the histories do not
deal with him it is probably because he was somewhat over
shadowed by the powerful personality of Verdi. Born in 183
he early showed his musical bent. In his teens he studied wit
Mazzucato and worked to such good purpose that, at the ag
of twenty, he gained his diploma at the Milan Conservatoir
Not very prolific, he is remembered by two operas, "La Gioconda
and "I Promessi Sposi." If in the former, universally recognis
to be his best work, there be no evidence of a very striking orig
nality, there is distinct proof of the man's ability. A gift fo
attractive, though not profound, melody and a sense of dramati
effect are to be credited to him. That Puccini, through constant
intercourse with a man who knew the tricks of the trade, profite
handsomely hardly admits of doubt.
Before speaking of Puccini's operas a word of warning ought
to be uttered. In forming an estimate of a dramatic compose
it is always necessary to employ dramatic standards. No musicia
of serious purpose would attempt to deny the unique place amon
musical forms which the symphony holds. But much less tha
common justice has frequently been meted out to operatic writer
simply because the judge has been oblivious of the facts that th
aims of these men are not identical with the aims of the symphon
ists, that the methods are at variance, that dramatic and sym
phonic composition have difficulties peculiar to themselves
Turn to any half-dozen French or Italian scores, carrying in
your mind the practices of the symphonists, and you will see thi
borne out. The question at issue is not whether the symphon
or the opera is the finer medium, not whether the highest poin
touched by the musician is to be found in the one or in the other
What we have to remember is that certain things may be right
in a symphony and wrong in an opera, and the converse is equally
true. If the fact be forgotten we shall discover ourselves to b
in a morass of confusion, a wilderness of contradictions. All this
may be very obvious, but obvious things are sometimes overlooked
and there is still a type of man who takes a score with him to a
performance of "Carmen."
The early "Le Villi" and "Edgar" may be dismissed. So
far as the world is concerned, Puccini's career began with "Manon
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A View of Giacomo Puccini 511
Lescaut." It is usual to contrast the Italian version with that
of Massenet, but, in the end, the process yields little save a
superfluous proof that an Italian is Italian and a Frenchman
French. Here I shall rest content with remarking that Puccini's
work contains some of the most vigorous and spontaneous melody
which he has ever given us. Des Grieux's address to Manon in
Act I is in the best Italian vein, the madrigal effective and the
concerted items are shaped by a sure hand. The Puccini "manner,"
which has not escaped the attention of the small fry, is not absent.
Indeed, considering the chronological position which the opera
occupies, it is surprising that there is so much of the mature
Puccini in it. On two occasions the melody reminds us of Mas-
senet (the Andante amoroso in Act I and Lescaut's Una casetta
angusta in Act II) and sometimes we seem to catch the echo of
other voices, but the man walks the boards with surprising ease
and has obviously a store of ideas from which to draw.
The chief fault of "La Boheme" is structural rather than
musical. In place of a closely connected plot we have four
tableaux and it says much for the composer that the work is
so attractive. There is a profusion of sentiment and passion,
an abundance of good vocal melody, a prattling orchestral com-
mentary which maintains the interest and an utter absence of
dullness. The opera marks a distinct advance on its predecessor.
While Puccini treats the orchestra with the care which we have
a right to expect from a modern writer, the style of the vocal
utterances proclaims the nationality and musical ancestry of
the man. Several times the mood is caught with a success which
he has never excelled. To the tender charm of Che gelida manina
he owes a host of fervent admirers, and such numbers as Musetta's
waltz-song and the duet for Rudolph and Marcel in Act IV show
that he is fond of spreading himself on a broad and generous
theme. The Bohemian music is thoroughly good; fun and frolic
laugh and sparkle through every bar of it and the very crispness
of these pages emphasises the appeal of the romantic and amorous
episodes. It may be submitted that the music is not all of the
same value, that here and there Puccini is at something below
his best, and this, I think, is true enough. While a more scrupulous
method would undoubtedly have abandoned some of the material,
there is a fruitful exhibition of the musician's aptitudes. Once,
at least, he attains to real heights of effectiveness. Few moments
in contemporary opera are so happy in conception and so telling in
performance as the return of Mimi's theme in the last act, where the
change in harmonic complexion presages the impending tragedy.
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512 The Musical Quarterly
The Italian stage has given us melodramas in plen
chronicle of crimes, splendid and sordid, has been
South. It is, therefore, remarkable that in "La Tosca" Puccini
sounded a fresh note. For, truth to tell, the fugitive from the
castle of St. Angelo, the shooting party and the torture chamber
belong to that world of disasters and catastrophies which is
older than "Rigoletto" and "II Trovatore." In my opinion
this opera is the high-water mark of Puccini's achievements.
We have Verdi's "recipe," rhythm, the human voice and brevity,
stretched to its utmost limits. Few modern examples are so
uniformly vocal and in fewer are the events compressed into so
short a space of time. The man is here in his full stride. While
nine persons are introduced only three are highly characterised,
but in their cases the thing is well done. Scarpia is depicted in
a short, incisive theme which often throws itself about the score
with the sinister flexibility of a serpent. And we follow the for-
tunes of Cavaradossi and Tosca with the same interest as that
with which we pursue the characters in a well-written tale o
adventure. One blemish falls to be recorded, and where there
is such a copious flow of melody the composer can afford to allow
us the luxury of finding fault about a small point. The unaccom-
panied unison with which the duet of the last act finishes is not
only trite from a thematic point of view, but is old-fashioned in
an ineffective way.
Few of us, I imagine, would be disposed to grudge "Madame
Butterfly" its day of success, for it is a tour de force. So many
pens have described it, so many hands been employed in applaud-
ing that I shall only remark that Puccini here struck out upon a
new line. The old world of romanticism and picturesque villainy
is, for the moment, deserted. This world is neither old nor
romantic and the villainy is far from picturesque. We breathe
the air of these times and a modern battleship rides at anchor
in the bay. Opera is a convention and a realisation of the fact
should throw some light upon the suitability of subjects. It was
not without reason that Wagner insisted upon the value of legen-
dary plots, and I am sure that it is a reliable instinct which
whispers to us that there is something wrong when Pinkerton
offers Sharpless a whiskey and soda. The golden goblet of the
Middle Age, the love philtre of Wagner, we can cheerfully accept.
But a decanter and syphon break the spell and cause a heaviness
of heart to true children of the opera-world. More might be said
about this, but space must be left to note that Puccini attempts
for the first time to disguise himself. That the introduction of
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A View of Giacomo Puccini 513
the Eastern element is only partially successful is not astonish
It is impossible for an opera to be Japanese in more than pa
and the difference between the East and the West which is
parent in the score is accentuated by the native fervour w
which the lyrical moments are attacked. In the duet for Pinker
and Cio Cio San we penetrate the disguise and I refuse to believ
that we are at Nagasaki, for the accent betrays the man an
unless I am mistaken, the speech is the speech to be heard in t
villages of Sicily and the hills of Calabria. It ought to be add
however, that while the adoption of Japanese characteristic
and the reversion to the Italian vocabulary must be remark
by the critic, the work plays well. Thackeray called "Vani
Fair" a novel without a hero and "Madame Butterfly" may
fitly be termed an opera in the same melancholy condition. All
the sympathy and most of the interest is concentrated on Cio Cio
San and Suzuki, but the two portraits are skilfully drawn. The
entrance of the former in Act I and the well-known duet in and
finale of Act II are admirable and the attention is held until the
last note. Altogether, "Madame Butterfly" is a most useful
addition to the repertory.
Puccini is an Italian pur sang and the main reason for the
failure of "The Girl of the Golden West" must be attributed to
the disastrous policy of attempting to exploit a kind of modernism
which assorts ill with the manner of his sincerity. The right mood
had surely deserted him when he worked at this score. There is
little or nothing of the natural flow which always marks him at
his best. Distinction is lacking and the novel feature is the
importation of a kind of music a la mode which sounds very
often like inferior Debussyism; and, to put it plainly, the Italian
cuts a sorry figure in Debussy's variegated pantaloons. The most
merciful thing which the critic can say is that the sooner the
opera is buried in oblivion the better.
So far as I am aware, no very precise calculation as to the
status of Puccini has ever been made. It may be that some
of the "potent, grave, and reverend signiors" who point the
moral are not enamoured of that flippancy of mind which finds
a certain satisfaction in what they are pleased to call "theatre-
music"-an attitude which neglects the important historical
truth that, in Italy, opera is a natural expression of national
sentiment. Others, perhaps, take exception to some technical
point or dismiss the subject with the suggestion that there is
little to "crag" your mind on. More than once learning has gone
far astray on this very matter. Mazzucato has well reminded
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514 The Musical Quarterly
us that the Italian revelled not in science but in simplicity, in
well-defined rhythms and unstrained harmonies. There is thus
something whimsical in the complaint that Puccini makes no
show of profundity-though, incidentally, it may be remarked
that the "music of the period" in "Manon Lescaut" and "La
Tosca" shows an aspect of the composer's talent not to be caught
elsewhere. A final touch of humor is lent to the situation by the
fact that Puccini, by virtue of his inborn sense of what is and
what is not effective on the stage, could teach men with ten times
his store of knowledge a much needed lesson. It must be added
that not a few ultra-aesthetic circles would be all the better for
the good shaking up which the performance of a Puccini opera
would give them. It is conceivable that a few make their protest
on more legitimate grounds. One can concede that some of the
finer shades of expression are beyond Puccini, and it is true that
he does not always practice economy. Most of us, I fancy,
could put our fingers upon some page where a theme is introduced
only to be discarded before its possibilities are touched upon.
Emerson somewhere speaks of the natural bias which a man ought
to obey, and we must be prepared to encounter such things in any
work which owes its existence to the impulsive enthusiasm of the
South. Verdi, it is said, "felt much more than he learnt" and
the criticism stands if applied to Puccini. His method is derived
very largely from Bizet and the later Verdi, which is to say that
in the essentials he is the antithesis of Wagner. Where Wagner
is leisurely, he seeks concentration and, like most Latins, he has
an instinctive dislike of arguments upon the stage. The leit-
motif is used, but not extensively, and at the crucial moment he
has the habit, common to most of his countrymen, of launching
into an honest "tune." With what unconcealed delight he pens
Vissi d'arte, E lucevan le stelle and Un bel di! This music is
the bitterest opponent of all that is mechanical and metallic. He
cannot resist the trick of giving the vocal melody to the upp
strings, a simple device which easily stirs the emotions. The
voices dominate, but they do not tyrannise, and one notices wit
satisfaction the fullness and variety of his scoring. It remain
to be said that Puccini's modernism is innocuous-I am not
speaking of the affected manner of "The Girl of the Golden W
The consecutive fifths which open the second act of "La Boh
and accompany the shepherd's song in "La Tosca" need not
cause the most ardent Mendelssonian any uneasiness; and in
these times the final chord of "Madame Butterfly" is not a
sensation. He writes with a gusto and zest, and with him there
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A View of Giacomo Puccini 515
is no equivalent of the problems which confront us when
approach Wagner, Bruneau, Scriabin and others. No propaga
no philosophy, is forced down your throat. By his own confe
he is determined not to trespass beyond the point at whic
feels at home. To Benedetto Croce and his confreres are left t
problems which agitate the intelligentia. In short, he prov
a place of rest and refreshment in which, (if you accept his sty
you will find little at which to cavil. First and last he is a sin
which is another way of saying that he is an Italian. To repro
Puccini for being an Italian is to complain that the leopard
spots, and I am heartily sorry for the man who does not g
thrill when Puccini's operas are interpreted by the great singe
to whom he owes so much.
I do not belong to that circle which sets little store upon the
Italian point of view. In "the land of song" there is, doubtless,
a vast amount of thoroughly bad music which, to make matters
worse, is sometimes wretchedly performed, and we know that
there was often an overwhelming enthusiasm for music which
existed side by side with a disreputable taste, as in Naples.
While recognising the value of the work of Sgambati, we may
deplore that Cherubini has had no successor and that the sonata
has fallen into comparative disrepute. Nevertheless, in its higher
manifestations Italian music has definite claims upon our esteem.
These lie in its ability to rescue us from the dire results of over-
development. Remembering its qualities we hesitate to give
the palm to barren intellectualism. The constantly increasing
demand for technical excellence is an admirable thing, which
may easily have the effect of hypnotising the musician into the
belief that good music can be written if only the intellect be given
free play. We have here to deal with valuations that affect our
judgment of every writer. The extreme method is to crown the
symphonists with laurels and consign the improvisors to the
outer darkness. I am not at all sure that such summary proceedings
meet the case when a man has a genuine initiative gift. Mere
cleverness will not acquit a composer at the final tribunal. Let
it be said quite frankly that there never was a time when the
Italian standpoint was fraught with such significance. In the
past the North learnt from the song of the South, but expressed
itself most naturally by instrumental means. Since then many a
contest has been waged between the music which is primarily
instrumental and that which is primarily vocal. Within the last
half-century Italy, perceiving the trend of thought in other coun-
tries, has discarded the foolish practices of the singing age; and
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516 The Musical Quarterly
once more, at a time when Tom, Dick and Harry are
the burden of their own knowledge and can dispor
in a score for a hundred and twenty instruments
position to remind us that intuition is still intuition
taneous impulse has a high artistic value. "Had Be
lessons from a German schoolmaster he would pr
learnt to do better; but that he would have unlearnt
the bargain is much to be feared." Thus wrote Wa
are those of us who would not for worlds that t
"unlearnt his song." And if, at times, the earnest stu
that Verdi is no longer writing, the feeling of despon
be mitigated by the thought that the musical re
easily bears comparison with that of any other co
history furnishes countless proofs of the recuperati
the Italian people.
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