A 

VERDI’S WIFE

a Romance in three acts

CHARACTER BREAKDOWN

 

GIUSEPPE VERDI, the foremost Italian Composer, 45, male (charismatic lead)

 

GIUSEPPINA STREPPONI, called PEPPINA, his Companion, 43, female (ditto)

 

ANTONIO BAREZZI, his former Father-in-law and Patron, 71, male (stolid elder)

 

FANNY SAX, a visiting French Soprano, 27, female (French accent, legit voice)

 

BAGASSET, an old wandering Fiddler, 66, male (twinkly elder)

 

NINO ROSSI, his young Helper, 25, male (charismatic juvenile, legit voice)

 

TESSA, the Parlor Maid, 19, female (classic ingenue)

        (All actors must be adept with heightened language in the Shavian manner)

 

 

 

PLACE: The Villa Verdi at Sant’ Agata, in Parma 

 

TIME: August, 1859 

 

Act One:        Scene 1.  The drawing room.  Afternoon. 

            Scene 2.  The same.  The following morning. 

 

Act Two:        Scene 1.  The kitchen.  The following day. 

            Scene 2.  The park. An afternoon three weeks later. 

 

Act Three:        Scene 1.  The drawing room.  That evening. 

            Scene 2.  The same.  Two days later.  Morning. 

                                           

Prelude: the overture to Nabucco,  starting from the “Va, pensiero” theme, is played before the house lights dim. Then, in the darkness, a thunderclap.

ACT ONE

Scene One.  The drawing room of the Villa Verdi At Sant’ Agata, framed by trees and shrubbery.  A spacious room, furnished comfortably in mid-victorian style, but not overly grand.  Up center, a pair of french doors opens onto the garden and park.  Right, a hallway leads to the kitchen and carriage entrance.  A doorway in the left wall leads to the master and mistress’ bedrooms.  Near the door is a handsome fireplace with a gilt mirror above the mantelpiece. 

The french doors and adjoining windows are shuttered against the thunderstorm raging outside, and a globular lamp is burning near the loveseat where peppina is reading.  She is a short, quietly dressed woman of 43, whose intelligence, grace, and warmth of heart create an illusion of beauty trancending her features: large, hooded eyes, long nose, and small, determined mouth, in an oval face framed by dark brown hair drawn into a bun. Trapped indoors on a rainy summer afternoon, she is glad to be interrupted by tessa, entering from the kitchen with a silver chocolate service.  Tessa is 19, brunette and pretty, and in love with playing parlor maid in so great a house.  

TESSA

Piping hot, Signora.   

PEPPINA

Lovely, Tessa, set it down here, dear.   

TESSA

And a cup for the Maestro?   

PEPPINA

I think not, Tessa. When he’s off bustling through his fields, there’s no predicting his return.   

TESSA

Even in the rain?    

PEPPINA

Especially in the rain, Tessa.

TESSA

Oh, Signora, I love to watch you read. You make it look so easy.  

PEPPINA

Can’t you read at all, my dear?   

TESSA

No, indeed. My father would never allow it.   

PEPPINA

Mm, delicious, Tessa, just right. I wonder what your father would think of me, reading not only words but music.   

TESSA

May I look, Signora? How wonderful! Marks that turn into music! Beyond me, I’m sure.

PEPPINA

It’s quite simple, once you learn.   

TESSA

Well, I think it’s wonderful. What does it say?   

PEPPINA

It’s Violetta’s final scene from La Traviata.   

TESSA

Oh, I’ve seen it! It’s so terribly sad. I loved every minute. Signora, Rosa was saying that the Maestro wrote it for you.   

PEPPINA

Oh no, Tessa. I left the stage long before Verdi composed Traviata.   

TESSA

Were you terribly famous?   

PEPPINA

Too much so, I fear. Had I been less eager to promote my vocal skill, I might not have lost it so young. How old are you, Tessa?   

TESSA

Nineteen.

PEPPINA

At your age, I made my debut in Trieste. In due course came La Scala, fame, and five years later my retirement, forced, like my career.   

TESSA

Did you travel everywhere in glorious carriages?   

PEPPINA

Oh yes, and often by rail, which was quite the novelty in those days. All through Italy, not to speak of Vienna and Paris. Such friendly cities then, long before the recent hostilities began. Paris! Oh, how I wish we were there now, even if it is August. God forgive me, this rain is worse than Purgatory. Tessa, sit down. Let me speak to you as a friend.   

TESSA

Oh, Signora, is that proper?   

PEPPINA

It must be made so. Sit down.   (Hesitantly, she does)  Tessa, I wonder if you can understand the depth of my isolation in this rural retreat, or appreciate how dearly I value the presence of another woman to confide in.   

TESSA

No, Signora.  That is… yes.   

PEPPINA

Verdi is a genius, my dear, a wizard, and to witness the birth of creation in him is a joy and an honor, but he needs to work alone, undisturbed; and equally with composing he loves tending his fields and stables, in which I have no interest whatsoever. All the same, Verdi thrives here -- he was born just a few miles away -- and from this spot he has enriched the whole world, but I must confess to you that I find it flat and dreary, and, rain or shine, I am royally bored.   

TESSA

Why don’t you go into town more, Signora? It’s such a short ride. 

PEPPINA

Busseto? Tessa, for all the friends I have there, Busseto might as well be on the moon.   

TESSA

But there’s very nice people there, I’m sure.   

PEPPINA

Not to me. They snub me ferociously, on the street and even in church. I had to stop going.  (Lifting a pile of letters)   Today’s post, Tessa. Invitations to a swarm of minor social functions, addressed as always to the great Maestro, solo; failing as always to include me. Not that I would dream of attending their paltry little— 

TESSA

Signora, may I now speak to you as a friend?   

PEPPINA

Go ahead.

TESSA

Do forgive me, Signora, but surely you know that if you and Maestro Verdi were to put an end to your sinning–

PEPPINA

Sinning?   

TESSA

Not my word, believe me. Father Anselmo says where you’re concerned it’s all right to love the sinner as long as I hate the sin. 

PEPPINA

That’s quite enough, Tessa!   

TESSA

I’m sorry, Signora. Forgive me. But you did ask.  

PEPPINA

I shouldn’t have. But I happen to believe that treating another human being with contempt is a greater sin than…never mind what. Now no more talk of Busseto. There is a greater problem at hand: assuming that the roads are not washed away, nor war erupt again, we are to receive a visit 

PEPPINA (cont.)

tomorrow from the celebrated French soprano, Fanny Sax, en route to an engagement in Rome. She is a noted interpreter of Verdi and has worked with him in the preparation of several productions. She is also quite young, notoriously blonde, and, I repeat, French. Parisian, in fact.   

TESSA

I’m surprised anyone French would dare to show their face here this summer. Those Judases!  

PEPPINA

Ah yes, but qualities that in a French diplomat may seem treacherous, in a French woman can fascinate. A fascination to which Verdi, patriot though he is, may prove susceptible, for Mademoiselle Sax has been a most attentive admirer of his since their first acquaintance. Indeed, I made a count the other day and discovered that in four months she has sent no less than a dozen letters here.   

TESSA

The hussy!   

PEPPINA

Tessa, perhaps nothing ill may come of this. Mlle. Sax is a distinguished artist and deserves our cordial hospitality. Cordial, and open-eyed.   

TESSA

Trust me, signora.   

VERDI (from outside) 

Peppina! Are you in there?   

PEPPINA

Verdi! Tessa, see if the chocolate is still hot.   

VERDI

Peppina, open the doors; my hands are full.   

TESSA

It is.   

PEPPINA

Good.

She opens the french doors as Verdi appears: a lanky, vigorous man of 45, dark of hair and beard.  His overcoat and floppy peasant’s hat are drenched, and he has been walking and kneeling in mud.  He carries a huge basket piled high with fresh-picked beets.   

VERDI

Look at these beauties! Look at them! Peppina, Tessa, look! “Noah’s beets,” my father used to call them, “snatched from the mouth of the flood!” Bursting with juice, darker than Satan and sweet enough for an angel’s palate. Come along, Tessa, we’ll pick out the best for supper tonight.  Look at the  size of these. Majestic! They’ll dazzle every market from here to Cremona.   (He goes off into the kitchen, then sticks his head back in)   Come along, you goose!   

TESSA

Yes, Maestro.   (She follows him off.  Peppina puts away the letters and her book, humming as she does. Verdi returns, minus beets, hat, coat and galoshes.) 

VERDI

And how are you this sodden afternoon, my love?   

PEPPINA

A bit restless, but recovering. Here’s some chocolate for you.   

VERDI

Bravo! You think of everything. Oh, Peppina, what a relief to be here at Sant’ Agata, in the middle of the fields, free, free from the bonds of music and the imbecility of opera houses.  I’m tired of the theatre, my love; henceforth I shall devote myself solely to agriculture. Wait till you taste those beets.   

PEPPINA

They seemed appetizing.       

VERDI

There’ll soon be corn ready, too. Fresh polenta! What a joy!   

PEPPINA

I’m happy it pleases you, wizard. Would that I felt as joyful.

VERDI

Don’t you? You used to garden happily for hours at Paris.   

PEPPINA

Ha! Twelve years ago! In those days every flower seemed a symbol of our budding love. I’m afraid it isn’t the same with beets.   

VERDI

But it is, Peppina. Every vegetable is a song, a hymn of praise from earth to sky, saluting the ardent Italian sun.   (To the tune of “La donna è mobile”:)   “Eggplant and broccoli, spinach and celery--”   

PEPPINA

Verdi, you are thoroughly mad.   

VERDI

Not today. Digging in earth is all it takes to soothe my crazy brain.   (A thunderclap.)    Aha! 

“Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes spout... 

And thou, all-shaking thunder, 

Smite flat the thick rotundity of the world!” 

Shakespeare must have had Italian blood. What an opera there is in King Lear. Oh, Peppina, if only I had a decent libretto, and a suitable bass. I could write it in no time, storm and all.   

PEPPINA

Without regard for the bonds of music or the imbecility of opera houses.   

VERDI

Teasing, are we?

PEPPINA

I suppose. The storm has spoiled my plan for a drive. Now my idleness offends me.   

VERDI

You’d like a holiday, wouldn’t you? Perhaps in Geneva, or Como?  

PEPPINA

Verdi! Do you mean it?

VERDI

Of course.  I know how these long summers on the farm erode your spirits.   

PEPPINA

My wizard! When shall we go?   

VERDI

Oh no, there’s masses of work to keep me here. I was thinking of you.   

PEPPINA

Travel without you, Verdi? Never. Not even to Paris.

VERDI

Peppina, may I not tease as freely as you?  And love as deeply? I promise you, wizard’s honor, as soon as the harvest is in we shall have a holiday together anywhere you please.   

PEPPINA

Here in your arms. Year after splendid year.   

VERDI

As you wish, Signora.   

PEPPINA

Though Paris would be lovely in the fall.   

VERDI

Peppina --   

PEPPINA

Wizard’s honor, Maestro.   

VERDI

If the French learn to keep their promises a little better, then I shall keep mine.  Will that do?    

PEPPINA

I am content. Oh no, I’m not. I’ve wanted to ask you about this tune all day. Listen.    (She hums the same tune as before.)   Do you know it?   

VERDI

Where did you hear that?   

PEPPINA

I’ve no idea. It’s been running through my brain for hours.  I’ve combed your scores, but I can’t place it anywhere. Is it yours?  

VERDI

Indeed not. It’s a tune old Bagasset used to play.   

PEPPINA

Who?   

VERDI

Bagasset. The fiddler who used to pass through the village when I was a child.  Don’t you remember him?   

PEPPINA

How would I?   

VERDI

He stayed here only a few years ago.   

PEPPINA

I don’t recall it.   

VERDI

You must. Oh no, you were in Cremona at your sister’s. What a strange old fellow. I hadn’t seen him in years, and one day he just appeared, striding through the fields playing his violin.   

PEPPINA

You recognized him?   

VERDI

Oh, I could never forget him. He was the first musician I ever saw, saving the organist in church. He’d come to town every so often to play at weddings and dances, decked out like a gypsy and twinkling as if he’d swallowed all the stars. I’d follow him about and listen to him play, never uttering a word, just listening, spellbound. Mesmer himself could never have enthralled me as Bagasset did, with his music. It summoned me to worlds beyond my father’s house, far beyond that peasant village, vast as the sky overhead. I felt that I could give my whole life to music.   

PEPPINA

How old were you then?   

VERDI

Six, seven. From some chink in his poverty, my father bought me that worthless little spinet, and suddenly the fiddler’s magical world was at my own fingertips. Bagasset! He passed through our village for years, and once or twice I saw him playing on the street corners in Milan when I was a student. Then he vanished, until the day he appeared here, easily sixty, and something of a wreck, but still as merry as a colt in May. He wanted to visit his “former protégé” and I was delighted to see him. He stayed for a day and then left for the north.   

PEPPINA

What became of him?   

VERDI

No idea. Now you explain the mystery of how you came to know Bagasset’s old tune.   

PEPPINA

It’s a mystery to me, as well. It simply came to mind this morning, out of the ether. Perhaps your latter-day Mesmer has cast a spell on us all. Perhaps he sent the rain to make us think of him.   

VERDI

I wonder if it will last another day.   

PEPPINA

Oh, never say it! I should expire.   

VERDI

It would be a dreadful inconvenience for Fanny.    

PEPPINA

For whom?   

VERDI

Mademoiselle Sax.   

PEPPINA

Yes, I know. “Fanny” is it? How intimate.   

VERDI

Peppina, you’re jealous.   

PEPPINA

Nothing of the kind.   

VERDI

You are, your nostrils are flaring. But not to worry. Fanny is a colleague, no more.   

PEPPINA

(Giving him the pile of letters)     Oh, a colleague. Perhaps she may accompany you to one of these gala soirees. Your worshippers in town are after you again.

VERDI

(Throwing them aside)   You are exquisite when your nostrils flare.   

PEPPINA

Verdi, stop it.   

VERDI

I can’t. You captivate me, my treasure.   

PEPPINA

Oh, Verdi, what nonsense! You sound like a tenor.   

VERDI (kneeling)

Be mine! Be mine!   

PEPPINA

Verdi, you’re getting mud on the carpet. Go in and change your trousers.   

VERDI

Then will you be mine?   

PEPPINA

Then and only then, madman.   

VERDI

Splendid. I go.   (He does.)   

PEPPINA

What a lunatic! I hope he doesn’t turn morose.   

TESSA (entering)

Signora, the most amazing thing! Signor Barezzi’s carriage just pulled up in the driveway.   

PEPPINA

That is odd. Take his wet things and show him in. Oh, and take the tray, Tessa.   (Tessa goes.  Peppina crosses to the bedroom door.)    Verdi, Signor Barezzi is here.   

VERDI (off)

Babbo? In this rain? What does he want?   

PEPPINA

I don’t know; Tessa’s just letting him in.   

VERDI

Tell him I’ll be out directly.   

PEPPINA

Hurry, please. You know how he feels about me.   (She collects the discarded letters.)  

VERDI

Now, Peppina --   

PEPPINA

It’s true, Verdi. Don’t leave me with him too long.

Antonio Barezzi enters, excited. A well-dressed man of 71, with sad eyes and a droopy moustache. He carries his ivory-headed cane with the confidence and determination of a prosperous businessman.  

PEPPINA

Signor Barezzi, what a surprise. Please sit down.   

BAREZZI

Thank you, Signora. Forgive my sudden intrusion, but I must speak with Verdi.   

PEPPINA

He’ll be out in a moment. Do you care for tea? You must be drenched through.

BAREZZI

No, but I’m sure my coachman would appreciate it. I’m too excited.

PEPPINA 

It will settle your nerves, then. I’ll see that there’s some for both of you.   (She exits to the kitchen. Barezzi fidgets a while and steals a regretful glance at the letters.)   

VERDI (entering)

Babbo, how good to see you. Welcome, welcome. This is a surprise.   

BAREZZI

Yes, I’m sure, but news came in by telegraph and I thought you should know it.   

VERDI

The unification vote?   

BAREZZI

Approved unanimously by every state. Parma, Modena, Tuscany, the lot.  

VERDI

It’s come at last. The war may have done some good after all. Has Austria responded?  

BAREZZI

Not yet. They’re probably waiting for a reaction from France.

VERDI

The French can’t be trusted. They betrayed us less than three weeks ago. Now we may have to fight by ourselves.  (To Peppina, as she enters:)   Peppina, have you heard the news?  

PEPPINA

Oh yes, Signor Barezzi’s coachman has alerted the kitchen staff. I’m afraid they’ve broken into the wine cellar.   

VERDI

Bravo! This doesn’t happen every day.   

BAREZZI

I should say not. Universal suffrage -- the first election in over fifty years. Not since Napoleon!

PEPPINA

Universal male suffrage, was it not, Signor? Not exactly the same thing.   

BAREZZI

Are you suggesting that women should vote?   

PEPPINA

I’m suggesting that Italy’s political future should be decided by all the Italian people, rather than a mere half of them.   

VERDI

No factionalism, please!  Here we are on the verge of unifying Italy and you’re about to revive the oldest schism in Creation. Be more discreet.

BAREZZI

Verdi’s right.   

PEPPINA

Is he? Then kindly inform Tessa that I shall take tea in my room.  

VERDI

Peppina, you needn’t go.   

PEPPINA

Thank you, but I’ll not trouble your conscience with my schismatic presence. Signor Barezzi, good afternoon.  (Out she goes.)   

VERDI

What a devil of a woman! I’ll have to let her win at billiards tonight. 

BAREZZI

It’s just as well. I’ve some information for your ears alone.   

VERDI

A conspiracy, Babbo? Go on.

BAREZZI

Well, Verdi, you said we were on the verge of unifying Italy, and we are, in fact, closer than you may realize. Every state that voted for unification will hold district elections next month for delegates to a General Assembly in Parma. That Assembly will draft a petition to Victor Emmanuel to unite all of Central Italy with his kingdom. Think of it! All of Italy north of the Papal States under a single government. An independent nation at last.   

VERDI

But a kingdom? What of our hope for a republic?  Isn’t that what we fought for?

BAREZZI

Well, yes. But for now Victor Emmanuel will safeguard against an Austrian offensive. Don’t you think?

VERDI

I suppose. Securing our freedom has to come before deciding its shape. For now, at least.  

TESSA (entering)

Tea, signori?   (Barezzi shakes his head.)   

VERDI

No, thank you, Tessa. Take the tray to the Signora’s room.   

TESSA

Yes, Maestro. Oh, isn’t it wonderful? Long live Italian freedom! Viva! (She hiccoughs and exits.)   

VERDI

Well then, Babbo? What of your private confidence?   

BAREZZI

Yes, I was coming to that. You see, Busseto will have to send a delegate to the Assembly in Parma, and the consensus in town is that the best man to represent the district would be you.   

VERDI

Me!   

BAREZZI

Who else?   

VERDI

I’m no politician, why me?   

BAREZZI

The fact that you can ask that question is reason enough.   

VERDI

Nonsense. I’m a peasant. A farmer.   

BAREZZI

Verdi, no one knows your origins better than I. But you’re also the most renowned composer in Italy, if not all Europe. And your music is synonymous with Italian patriotism. Your views are well known.  

VERDI

A patriot is not a politician. I love my countrymen; I have no desire to manipulate their lives.   

BAREZZI

Verdi, this is not a political post. The Assembly needs your prestige. They’ll undoubtedly ask you to go on and present the unity petition to the King in Turin.   

VERDI

The King?   

BAREZZI

Well, you’ve met all sorts of kings and emperors. And even the Duke of Wellington.   

VERDI

And they haven’t impressed me much.   

BAREZZI

But you’ve impressed them. Lending your name, let alone your presence to such an enterprise will guarantee its success. Otherwise, who knows?   

VERDI

I’ll discuss it with Peppina.   

BAREZZI

Verdi, before you do, I had best tell you that she -- now I’m not speaking for myself alone but as a representative of Busseto -- she poses a problem.   

VERDI

What problem?   

BAREZZI

Verdi, really...   

VERDI

What problem, Babbo?   

BAREZZI

Well, when you go to Parma, and especially when you go to petition the King, there will be all sorts of publicity and court events, you know, elegant society, and…is she to be invited? 

VERDI

You imagine I’d go without her?   

BAREZZI

And how will you introduce a woman with whom you’ve lived for twelve years out of wedlock?   

VERDI

As my wife.  Which she is.   

BAREZZI

Oh, Verdi, I know you feel that she is, and I’m sure that your theatrical colleagues accept her as such; I can understand that and even sympathize a little, but, Verdi, everybody knows --

VERDI

Everybody knows what? The gossip of some small-town provincials may pass for knowledge in Busseto, but I shall live as I please no matter what they think.

BAREZZI

Calm yourself, Verdi. I have no wish to chastise you. Indeed, I have always defended you to the town, and you know it. When you first began living with Signorina Strepponi in Paris --    

VERDI

Peppina.  

BAREZZI

Very well, Peppina. I found her charming and said so to everyone when I returned to Busseto. And I continued to speak well of her even after you moved back here, although everyone else, including my own family, was shocked.

VERDI

What right had they to be shocked?

BAREZZI

Verdi, can you blame them for their interest in you? So many remember you as just a boy here. Busseto has never produced anyone as famous as you.

VERDI

Am I in their debt for that? Oh, I know they say they made me. Made me! Then why don’t they make some more? It’s ridiculous!

BAREZZI

I don’t wish to justify them, Verdi. I’m only telling you what they perceive. Ten years ago you returned to your home town, rich and famous, and shut yourself up in a palatial villa with a mistress from Paris.

VERDI

That’s enough, Babbo.

BAREZZI

Well, they said it! The bolder ones did, and the others just looked at me in silent accusation. And how could I answer them, I who had proudly given my own daughter to you in the sight of God and the whole town?

VERDI

No, don’t remind me of Ghita, please.

BAREZZI

I must. More than anyone in Busseto, it is her ghost that has nagged at me since you brought that woman here. I never expected you to remain a widower forever, but to flaunt your liaison here, Verdi, I felt as if Ghita had died a second time.

VERDI

Don’t, Babbo. Her death turned all the beauty of life into ashes. Life with Ghita was a daily reminder of how your kindness saved me from poverty, your generosity paid for my education, your trust gave me a bride and a home. I felt that I could plant my dreams in the ground and they’d blossom forever, nurtured by her love, and yours. And so they did, for a while. Two beautiful children, an opera for La Scala, a contract for more. And then that vile God who had lured me with joy tore it all to shreds. Both children, and then their mother, sick and buried in one black year. And my heart became a coffin, too.

BAREZZI

We buried them together, Verdi.

VERDI

Yes, and for your sake I kept myself alive.  You were all that remained of my faith in goodness.  You kept me from believing that death ruled the world.

BAREZZI

I had to. We had wept together so much, I was determined that one day we should both laugh again.

VERDI

Oh, Babbo, I owe you everything, everything.

BAREZZI

I owe you as much, Verdi. I could have spent all my days trading in wine, and never known anything more beautiful than a balanced account book. But once I saw what you could be, I knew I must help you become it. And how you have rewarded my faith, and surpassed my hopes!

VERDI

I can never repay you enough.

BAREZZI

Yes, you can. Not for my sake, but for the future of Italy, which you must represent, marry Peppina.

VERDI

No, Babbo. No. Ask me anything but that.

BAREZZI

Why, Verdi? Clearly you have allied your life to hers. Is she unwilling?

VERDI

No, I think she would welcome it. I’m sure she would.

BAREZZI

Then why refuse?

VERDI 

(Much hesitation.)   No reason.

BAREZZI

No reason?

VERDI

None I can utter. 

BAREZZI

But, Verdi–

VERDI

No more of this, Babbo. The subject is closed.

BAREZZI

Verdi, please! Surely you see how you could help the cause of freedom.

VERDI

I’ve always helped the cause of freedom! Fought with censors, composed anthems, confronted reactionaries, funded rebels. I’ve earned the right to set a limit. We have a good life here, a beautiful, safe, productive life, living as we wish to. What’s the use of Italy’s being free if her people aren’t?

BAREZZI

Italy isn’t free yet, Verdi. She may never be if her best men refuse to step forward.

VERDI

If the people of this district wish me to represent them, I shall. If they feel safer as subjects of a king than citizens of a republic, even so I’ll represent them. But I won’t be dictated to. In my private sphere they must take me as I am, or not at all. Depend upon it. 

BAREZZI

They’ll never understand. I’m not sure that I do. Is it so much to ask?

VERDI

Babbo, it pains me to refuse you anything. No man living has a greater claim on my heart. But I will not, cannot consent to this.

BAREZZI

But if Peppina wishes it?

VERDI

No matter. Not even if saints and angels came to perform the ceremony. Not even--   (He is interrupted by the distant sound of two men, accompanied by concertina, singing the tune Peppina was humming.)   Listen! It’s Bagasset!

BAREZZI

The fiddler?

VERDI

Yes, but that’s no violin.   (He opens the French door.)    It’s him! And there’s someone with him, playing a concertina.

BAREZZI

In the rain?

A robust baritone voice comes wafting through the door, to the tune of “la donna e mobile”:

THE VOICE

Please, Signor Verdi,

Give us some shelter,

This awful weather

Is really miserable...

VERDI

Bagasset, you outrageous rascal! Come inside!   (toBarezzi:)   This is unbelievable.

BAREZZI

I’m going.

VERDI

In all this? Please, Babbo, stay for supper. Well, well, what impossible creatures are these?

Bagasset enters with Nino Rossi.  Both wear wide-brimmed hats and voluminous cloaks which are soaking wet. Bagasset is a grizzled little man of 66, with an eye patch and several missing teeth.  Nino is a shade taller, 25, with bright eyes and curly auburn hair and beard.  He is carrying a battered concertina.  Beneath their raingear, both men are dressed with the colorful seediness of itinerant musicians.

BAGASSET

Little Beppe, the illustrious Maestro! Ha! I told you I’d be back some day.

VERDI

Bagasset, I am speechless.

BAGASSET

Allow me to introduce my assistant and protégé, Nino Rossi.

NINO

An honor, Maestro. Yes, indeed.

VERDI

Welcome to Sant’ Agata. Look at you both!

PEPPINA (entering with Tessa)

Verdi, I thought I heard -- Saints in heaven, what’s this?

VERDI

Peppina, this is Bagasset, in person.

PEPPINA

Goodness! Really?

BAGASSET

I swears it, Signora. And my assistant --

NINO

Nino Rossi, Signora.  At your service.

PEPPINA

Tessa, take these gentlemen’s things and hang them to dry.   (Tessa obeys.)   Welcome.

VERDI

You old devil! Do you remember Signor Barezzi, my father-in-law?

BAGASSET

I’d know him anywhere. My respects, yer honor. I’ve played in front of yer honor’s mansion many a time.

BAREZZI

Yes, I remember.

VERDI

Why on earth are you travelling in this downpour?

BAGASSET

Alas, Maestro, it’s a woesome tale. I’m on my way to Piacenza, where my widowed sister is on her last legs. We tried to keep goin’ after the rains begun, but the dampness runs riot with my 

arthuritis, and seein’ as we was in yer vicinity, I made bold to head this way in the hopes of findin’ shelter for the night, in one of yer barns, maybe.

VERDI

Peppina, do you approve?

PEPPINA

Certainly. Signor Bagasset, is there anything we can do to help your condition?

BAGASSET

Thank you, Signora, I just lets it run its course. Though if I might take a seat...

VERDI

Sit down, sit down at once.

PEPPINA

Would you care for something hot to drink? Chocolate?

BAGASSET

Chocolate, Signora! That would refresh me considerable.

PEPPINA

I’ll order you some at once.

NINO

Signora, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could put a little rum in it?

BAGASSET

Nino!

PEPPINA

No trouble at all.  (She goes out.)

BAREZZI

How long have you suffered with arthritis?

BAGASSET

Couple of years, yer honor.

VERDI

Has it slowed your fiddling any?

BAGASSET

Oh, I can’t play at all no more, Maestro. Nino and me used to be a team, but now Nino makes all the music and I passes the hat.

VERDI

I see.

NINO

Yes, but I’m thinking of quitting. I’m sick of street singing and I’m going to devote myself to agriculture.

VERDI

Ha! You don’t say.

NINO

Oh yes. Shall I ask him, Fiddle?

BAGASSET

Certainly, boy, that’s what you come for.

NINO

You see, Maestro, I’ve been traveling all over Europe, and I’ve got a new strain of corn they developed in England that I’ve been wanting to introduce into Italy.

VERDI

That’s rather ambitious.

BAGASSET

Oh, Nino’s no ordinary musician. He’s got a brain.

NINO

You see, this corn produces double the yield of ordinary seed, and I thought if it did that well in England, then it should be a wonder in our climate.  (He produces a small bag which Verdi eagerly opens.)

BAREZZI

If it ever stops raining.

PEPPINA (returning)

Your refreshments will be here in a moment.

VERDI

Peppina, this young man has brought back some very interesting corn seed from England. Have a look.

PEPPINA

My, my. From England, you say?

NINO

Yes, Signora. I was in a performing troupe that went to London for the Exposition.

PEPPINA

You play that instrument?

NINO

Yes, and I sing.

PEPPINA

So that was you. We shall have another singer visiting us -- oh!

NINO

Signora?

PEPPINA

Nothing, excuse me, just an idea.

TESSA (entering with chocolate)

Here it is, Signora.

PEPPINA

Serve our guests, Tessa. Verdi, do you really propose to let your old friend and his companion stay in the barn tonight? When we have room here?

VERDI

My very thought.

PEPPINA

Tessa, when you’re done, see that the large guest room has fresh linen.

BAGASSET & NINO

Bless you, Signora, bless you. Thank you, Signora.

TESSA

But, Signora, we’ve already prepared that room for Madamazel Sax.

VERDI

That’s right, Peppina.

PEPPINA

Heavens! But that’s the only room that accommodates two. Wait, I know! Mlle. Sax can have that cozy little room, next to mine.

VERDI

Peppina--

PEPPINA

Oh, Verdi, I don’t mind in the least. And it is such a lovely room. I’m sure she will be delighted. Won’t she?

VERDI

No doubt.

PEPPINA

Good. All settled then. And, Tessa, tell Rosa we’ll be five for supper. Signor Barezzi, you will stay, won’t you? To please me?

BAREZZI

I cannot refuse a lady. Thank you.

PEPPINA

Oh, I’m so glad. How lovely it will be. We’re having fresh-picked beets.

FAST CURTAIN

intermezzo: the anvil chorus (“Chi del gitano”), Il Trovatore, act ii

Scene Two.  The drawing room.  The following morning. It is still raining.  Barezzi is sunk in an armchair. Peppina at the french doors is staring into the weather.

BAREZZI

All night, without a break. Do you suppose it will ever stop?

PEPPINA

Not from the look of it.

BAREZZI

I assume Verdi’s stomping about in the morning mud?

PEPPINA

He’s taking our young visitor on a tour of the fields.

BAREZZI

When I helped to rescue Verdi from the dirt, I never imagined he’d dive back into it voluntarily.

PEPPINA

He loves it. He once told me he had fertilizer in his veins.

BAREZZI

Well, as soon as the road is passable, I must go back to town.

PEPPINA

With empty hands, I fear.

BAREZZI

I beg your pardon?

PEPPINA

No need to dissemble, Signor. Verdi has informed me of your mission to him from the town.

BAREZZI

Has he?

PEPPINA

Yes. In toto. And if I may speak frankly, I would like very much to be your ally in this matter.

BAREZZI

I should think you would.

PEPPINA

My motives are fully as selfless as yours. I appreciate Verdi’s influence. I know what the world thinks of him. I know also what it thinks of me.

BAREZZI

I am relieved to know that your reputation is of some concern to you yet.

PEPPINA

It is not, Signor. I surrendered it the day I first set foot upon a stage, and I knew it. What matters to me is peace of mind, Verdi’s and my own. He may not admit it, but the constant defensive 

posture we have maintained during our years here has taxed us dearly. None of Verdi’s recent operas has had a success comparable to Rigoletto or Trovatore, as you know. And I find myself growing petty and suspicious. Afraid that the mere absence of a ring on this finger, and on Verdi’s, will give ammunition to my potential rival, a woman whom I would otherwise welcome as a fellow-artist and guest.

BAREZZI

And do you blame anyone for this state of affairs but yourself?

PEPPINA

Of course! Oh, I consented long ago to our arrangement, but the terms originated with him.

BAREZZI

How could that be?

PEPPINA

Signor Barezzi, I realize that you’ve known Verdi far longer than I have. Will you nonetheless admit that in some matters he’s an enigma to us both? And perhaps to himself? He can fill a stage with music that bares every secret of the human heart, but the secret of his own remains veiled and silent.

BAREZZI

Even in boyhood it was so. Except where music spoke for him. 

PEPPINA

Indeed. The world praises and rewards his genius, but he pays a price for it, a price that isolates him from conventional men. Genius has raised him high above his humble roots, yet he clings to those roots with the obstinacy of stone. He clings to a past that rewards him with torment. Believe me, Signor, to love him as I do is to embrace a menagerie of contradictions.

BAREZZI

Pardon me, Signorina, but that love is a matter I’m unfit to consider.

PEPPINA

And yet the question of marriage would seem to hinge upon it.

BAREZZI

The question of marriage hinges upon propriety. I’m sorry for my bluntness, but Verdi has a patriotic obligation he cannot fulfill under the taint of immorality. 

PEPPINA

Immorality? Is that your name for what shelters within these walls? Oh, Signor, I hoped for better from you.   (She fights back tears and he proffers a handkerchief.)  Thank you. Even if we must despair of being friends, we may yet accomplish something as allies.

BAREZZI

Yes. For the benefit of the nation.

PEPPINA

That may not suffice until he sees the benefit as his own. A convergence would be best.

BAGASSET (entering from the kitchen)

And how is the lady of the house this morning?

PEPPINA

Fine, thank you.

BAGASSET

And you, yer honor? Quite fit?

BAREZZI

Quite.

BAGASSET (settling into a chair)

Well then. I wonders if you’ve heard the news, about all the little duchies gettin’ hitched up together?  Glorious, as I sees it. Them bluebloods at the Congress of Vienna had no business choppin’ us apart in the first place. A chunk to Austria, a chunk to France, and smaller chunks to smaller princes. Fooey! Napoleon had the right idea, says I: Italy for the Italians! Viva! Remember Napoleon, yer honor?

BAREZZI

Vaguely.

BAGASSET

Best man I ever laid eye on, savin’ the Maestro, of course. They’re much of a pair, you know. Both ordinary common fellas, as got to the top through talent and zest, and poop on yer titled money. Made folks like me feel like we had a chance in life, too. Right, yer honor?

BAREZZI

Napoleon was very good for trade, yes.

BAGASSET

I’ll say he was. I played my fiddle at his coronation in Milan, in front of the Cathedral. I was only thirteen, but I cleaned up. Ah, the good old days, never to be more! Know who I’ll miss?

PEPPINA

No, whom?

BAGASSET

Duchess Louise. Parma won’t be the same without her. She had a liberal hand, that lady, even if she was an Austrian. I seen her carriage on the road to the border the other week and I yells, “Hip hip, Duchess, you’re a good old girl!” Well, as the great Dante says, “Uneasy lies the head as wears a crown.”

BAREZZI

Your political views strike me as remarkably inconsistent.

BAGASSET

Oh, I got none, yer honor. My wicked old heart’s what I follows. You want politics, you talk to Nino. He reads books about it. 

PEPPINA

He reads?

BAGASSET

Like a house afire, Signora. Where is the boy?

PEPPINA

In the fields with Verdi.

BAGASSET

I knew they’d go for each other. Nino’s a self-made man, too. Run away from home to join a troupe. He’s seen the world, that one. Self-taught in every respect. You heard him sing?

PEPPINA

Not yet, no.

BAGASSET

Candy. Candy to the ear, make no mistake. Specially with the Maestro’s tunes. From the looks of him you’d think he was just another ass with a squeeze-box, but oh, no. He feels it from the soul up. You’ll find out.

NINO (entering with Verdi)

Guess what, Fiddle?  I’m going to work here.  The Maestro’s taking me on as a field hand.

BAGASSET

That’s the stuff, Nino. You’ll be glad you done it, Maestro.

NINO

And I’m going to start sprouting that English corn.

PEPPINA

Isn’t it rather late in the season?

NINO

Oh no, Signora, this is a very fast-growing strain. Hardy, too.

VERDI

Nino claims it will create a revolution in Italian agriculture.

BAGASSET

A good revolution’s just what the country needs, right, Nino?

NINO

It’s just a figure of speech, Fiddle.

BAGASSET

Don’t you deny it, now. Why he can talk for days on end about this German fella, Karl Marx. It’s his favorite book.

BAREZZI

A Communist?

BAGASSET

The very word. How’d it go, Nino? “A specter is haunting Europe.” Makes your flesh crawl, don’t it?

BAREZZI

Communism in Italy! Ha, you must be dreaming!

NINO

Why do you say that?

BAREZZI

Well, that rubbish may gain adherents among the great industrial peoples, England or Germany, but this is a nation of farmers, and small merchants.

NINO

That’s what we are now, but when we’re a single independent country, with uniform currency and a banking system, Italy united could become a great industrial power.

VERDI

Heaven forbid. Then I should have to write music as loud as Wagner’s, to drown out the factory din.

PEPPINA

Verdi, don’t be silly.

VERDI

It’s true. Look at the early masters. They could create monuments of music with the merest handful of instruments and voices, because the world around them was so quiet. Then along came the steam engine and its mighty cousin the railroad, and suddenly Berlioz was fending them off with tubas. And every other composer has had to follow suit. God only knows where it will end. Do you remember how noisy Paris was last time?

PEPPINA

Dreadful. All that rebuilding may gratify the eye some day, but at what cost to the ear. And the nerves.

BAREZZI

You mustn’t speak against progress, Verdi.

VERDI

I’m not against progress, Babbo. The railroad and the telegraph are wonderful inventions, and lighting theatres with gas instead of candles is a great step forward. But we must proceed with care, or human sensitivity will be lost in the process. All of London smells like a giant steamboat, and nobody there seems to have noticed. No wonder their food has no flavor.

BAREZZI

All the same, there’s nothing wrong with Italy becoming as rich as France or England.

NINO

Italy is rich, and always will be, as long as she can sing Verdi’s music.

BAGASSET

Bravo, Nino!  How about a song?  I’ll fetch yer box.

NINO

Oh no, Fiddle, I couldn’t.

BAGASSET

Don’t be a fool, these good people are dyin’ for it.

NINO

They are not--

BAGASSET (racing off)

I’ll be right back.

NINO

Don’t let the old man bother you.  He’s cracked a bit since he had to give up the fiddle.

PEPPINA

Have you known him long?

NINO

About six months.  Since I got back from England.  He was playing in front of the opera house in Genoa and I could see his fingers were failing, so I joined in to help cover the mistakes.  And we just stayed together after that.

PEPPINA

And you earn enough to survive?

NINO

So far. We don’t need much.

PEPPINA

Is your family musical?

NINO

No, indeed, it’s just my own aberration. My father was an undertaker. I was his apprentice, but I couldn’t bear it. I’d sing to the corpses, but talk about an audience being dead! So after he was killed, I left it all to my brothers and ran away.

VERDI

Your father was killed?

NINO

Eleven years ago. On the barricades. The uprising of ‘48. He’d seen so much death, I guess he wasn’t afraid of it.

BAGASSET (bringing the concertina)

What’s it to be, Nino?

NINO

Not right now, Fiddle. Maybe later.

PEPPINA

So you joined a troupe?

NINO

More than one. Then I lit out for myself. I like soloing on the street. Right in the middle of life, where people need the music.

BAGASSET

Tell ‘em about that time in Venice.

NINO

Ha, that was the best.  One Sunday last spring I’d gathered a good-sized crowd in the Piazza, and they couldn’t get enough.  So I started singing some patriotic songs and sure enough, a couple of Austrian soldiers moved in and said they’d arrest me if I sang another note.  Well, the crowd was 

furious and they all started to chant, “More, more, more, more,” but I’d seen one jail too many and wasn’t about to sing my way into another one.  So I just kept playing the tune with my mouth shut, and soon enough the crowd took up the song.  Now that looked like revolution to the Austrians, so they collared me and started to pull me away, but suddenly the crowd surged up all around us and got between me and the soldiers, and the next thing I knew, I was in a gondola heading for the Lido.

PEPPINA

What was the song you were singing?

NINO

The anthem of oath-taking from Ernani.  Your composition, Maestro.

VERDI

You don’t say.

PEPPINA

Would you sing it for us now?

NINO

Oh, I couldn’t, Signora.

PEPPINA

I should like very much to hear it.

NINO

Maestro, do you mind?

VERDI

Go ahead.

BAGASSET (applauding)

Bravo, bravo!

NINO

Maestro, I changed the words from “Iberia” to “Italy,” because everybody does, anyway.  I’ve also had to simplify the chords a little to fit my instrument.

VERDI

I hope I recognize it.

NINO

(singing, at first nervously, but building to an impassioned finish.)

We swear then,

We swear together:

When the lion from sleep shall awaken

Every mountain will resound with his power,

NINO (cont.)

        And the call will proclaim Italy’s hour

To expel from her shores every foreign foe.

We shall fight with our courage unshaken

As one family forever united in bravery,

Casting off the shameful burden of slavery

We’ll stand and fight as long as our blood has power to flow.

We may die, or return victorious,

And our pledge to create a free nation,

Will inspire every new generation

With the strength to fight and never give up until we are free.

Soon the dawn shall appear, shining and glorious,

With the sun in all its splendor beaming,

For our country with heroes is teeming

And from oppression delivered shall be,

Delivered shall be, delivered shall be!

Bagasset and Tessa, who has entered in mid-song and watched spellbound from the hallway, burst into applause.  Peppina joins them.  Then there is heavy silence.

VERDI

You say the whole crowd took up the song?    (Nino nods.)   I’d like to have seen that.    (He exits into the bedroom.)

PEPPINA

Tessa, what is it?

TESSA

That’s what I was wondering, Signora.  Excuse me.    (She leaves.)

PEPPINA

Thank you, Nino.

BAREZZI

You’re wasting your time on the street, young man.  You should be in an opera house.

BAGASSET

That’s what I keeps tellin’ him, yer honor.

NINO

Oh no.  No one ever made a revolution in an opera house.

PEPPINA

On the contrary, Verdi has made quite a few.  Riots and demonstrations galore.

NINO

Yes, but he’s a great artist.  I’m just a mountebank.  And it suits me.   (Verdi returns with a small leather box.)

VERDI

Young man, that instrument is tinnier than a barrel-organ, but the voice is solid.

NINO

Thank you, Maestro.

VERDI

Have you ever sung for an impresario?

NINO

No.

VERDI

You should.

NINO

That’s no life for me, Maestro. If I sing where people expect it, I can’t surprise them. If I can’t surprise them, I can’t make them think, and if I can’t make them think, there’s no point. The revolution comes first.

BAREZZI

What a waste!

NINO

It isn’t. I’m no one special. I just want to exercise my talent instead of being a slave to custom. The world is full of people who could do the same, but they don’t know it. They’re oppressed. By war or tyranny or the factory system or just plain hunger and poverty and killing labor. Their 

wretchedness is such a burden to them that their minds have gone to sleep. I want to wake them up, so they’ll cast their burdens off.

VERDI

“A world of happy days.”

NINO

What?

VERDI

It’s Shakespeare. Richard III. “A world of happy days.” That’s what you want, isn’t it?

BAGASSET

Sounds lovely to me. “A world of happy days.”

VERDI

It’s impossible.

PEPPINA

Verdi!

VERDI

Quite impossible.  I’m sorry, but I know.

NINO

I won’t argue with you, Maestro. Not till I know you better. Come on, Fiddle, help me rig a starter box for that corn seed. It’s been waiting six months for someplace to grow. Signora.   (Exit.)

VERDI

Bagasset, just a moment.    (Taking him aside.)    You’ve brought me an unusual young man. I want to give you something in return. A token from an unimportant princeling, which you’ll put to better use than ever I did.

BAGASSET (opening the box)

Maestro, it’s gold!

VERDI

Find a good doctor for your sister.

BAGASSET

Maestro, ain’t you the man! Little Beppe, well, well!

VERDI

All right, now off with you.

BAGASSET

I won’t forget this.  (Exit.)

PEPPINA

What did you give him, Verdi?

VERDI

That gold medallion from Count du Savignac.

BAREZZI

What an extravagance! You shouldn’t encourage such people, Verdi.

VERDI

Why not?

BAREZZI

They’re so unsavory. And taking on that radical to work in the fields. What if he talks to the other laborers?

VERDI

He’ll be all right. In any case, I shall do as I please.

TESSA (breathlessly entering)

Signora! Maestro! There’s a carriage at the gate. It’s...

VERDI

Well?

TESSA

It’s Fanny Sax!

PEPPINA

Stars above!

VERDI

Show her in. Go on, don’t keep her waiting.   (He and Peppina both cross to the mirror.)

PEPPINA (laughing)

Oh, this will be jolly.

VERDI

Babbo, you’re about to meet a great prima donna.

BAREZZI

I’ve really had enough for one day.

OUTRAGEOUS FRENCH ACCENT (offstage)

Ah, Monsieur Verdi, here we are at last!

With operatic flourish, Mlle. Fanny Sax makes her entrance. She is 27 and if she isn’t careful she will be overweight before long, but at present she is merely voluptuous. Her style of dress and coiffure indicates that she can afford the best, but not appreciate it.

FANNY

Monsieur Verdi, or should it be “Maestro” now that we are in sunny Italy (which is not so sunny today, n’est-ce pas?), what a pleasure to arrive in your lovely home, so elegant, yet solid and 

masculine, all those virtues I so sincerely admire in you. It is an honor to be once more in your presence.

VERDI

The pleasure is mine, Mademoiselle. Ours, I mean.

FANNY

And you are Madame Strepponi, are you not?

PEPPINA

Welcome to our home, Mademoiselle.

FANNY

Oh, madame, I am thrilled to meet you. Your renown as an artiste was an inspiration to me when I was just a wee little girl.

PEPPINA

How remarkable. I hope your journey was not unpleasant.

FANNY

Well, I detest the railroad, huff-puff, huff-puff for hours at a time. For something meant to be convenient, travel can be so…not! It is most annoying, but then there is no sacrifice I would not make to approach the great Maestro.

VERDI

I’ve spoken to you of my friend and benefactor, Signor Antonio Barezzi.

FANNY

How do you do, Monsieur...Barezzi, was the name?

BAREZZI

Yes, Mademoiselle. Enchanté.

FANNY

Oh, how charming.

BAREZZI

I trust you were not put out of sorts by the inclement weather.

FANNY

The what?

PEPPINA

The rain.

FANNY

Oh, not at all. No, that condition seems to be improving.

PEPPINA

How wonderful! No doubt you will wish to take long, solitary walks in the country air.

FANNY

Actually, I am more of -- what you call -- a housebody. Soon I am to have my debut in Rome, and in advance of that I should enjoy as much languid relaxment as possible.

PEPPINA

You will have your hands full of it, I’m sure. Let me show you to your room.

FANNY

You are too kind. A bien tot, Maestro.

PEPPINA (as they go)

Is that really what they’re wearing in Paris this year?

BAREZZI (looking out the window)

Look, Verdi, she’s right. The storm is over.

VERDI

Look again, Babbo. It’s only just beginning.

CURTAIN

Entr’acte: the choral anthem of oath-taking (“si rideste il leon di castiglia”), Ernani, act iii

ACT TWO

Scene One.  The kitchen of the villa, the next morning. A large and well-appointed country kitchen, dominated by a cast-iron wood-burning stove up center. Shelves and cupboards, a coat rack with aprons hanging on it, and downstage a large wooden work-table with stools and a bench. Right, a dutch door to the garden, open at the top; left, a swinging door to the rest of the house. The ingredients for the meal that is about to be prepared are arranged on the workspace next to the stove. Tessa is at the stove, stirring the contents of a large saucepan, and humming to herself. Nino ap-pears through the dutch door, a sling of firewood on his shoulder.

NINO

Good morning, radish.

TESSA

It’s about time. The fire’s almost gone out.

He enters and unloads the wood, with which Tessa begins to refuel the stove.

NINO

What’s the big hurry, anyway?

TESSA

A special dinner in honor of the Madamazel. The Maestro is going to prepare Eggplant Parmesan.

NINO

Maestro Verdi?

TESSA

Yes, he’s a wonderful cook. Rosa is so jealous, she won’t come near the kitchen when he takes it over.

NINO

Too bad old Fiddle isn’t here. He can eat for three.

 TESSA

You mean your gritty old boyfriend?

NINO

Yes, he went off to his sister’s place as soon as the rain cleared. And where’s your boyfriend, radish?

TESSA

Nowhere.  He doesn’t exist.

NINO

What a pity. What’s that you’re doing, anyhow?

TESSA

Cooking, thank you. The Maestro always lets me start the sauce. It has to reduce for a while before he adds the herbs and spices.

NINO

I see. Could you use some able-bodied assistance?

TESSA

No. Well, you could cut up the mozzarella into chunks. Wash your hands first! Ugh, what an animal.

Nino rinses his hands with pitcher and basin.  then he fills his mouth with water and squirts a few jets onto the stove, where they sizzle.

NINO

Something my mother taught me.   (He sets to work dicing the cheese.)   You know, Tessa, you’re kind of pretty, for a domestic.

TESSA

Your chunks are too big.

NINO

(humming the “Miserere” from Trovatore)

Dum de da da da dum dum

Do not forget, do not forget our love,

Farewell, Leonora, farewell, farewell!

TESSA

Have you really been to England?

NINO

Oh yes.

TESSA

What’s it like?

NINO

Beautiful. A green country with sweet, pure water that flows down from the hills and across the valleys, where greedy men adulterate it with whatever they don’t need to get rich by.

TESSA

Oh, you’re awful. You have no romance in your soul.

NINO

There, finished. Haven’t I?   (Taking her by the waist and singing “di quel amor” from traviata:)

Ah, such love, love trembling and tender,

Throbs in my heart --

TESSA (sticking an apple in his mouth)

Go back to your fields, animal.

NINO

If you aren’t nice to me, I won’t teach you how to read.

TESSA

Could you really?

NINO

If I had a willing pupil.

TESSA

Oh, I’m willing.

NINO

Never mind, radish. I’m going back to the fields, and sing to my corn seeds. It helps them to sprout.   (Blowing a kiss through the door:)

            Farewell, Leonora, farewell, farewell!

TESSA (after him)

Peacock!

Verdi and Fanny enter through the swinging door.  he is dressed informally in white.

VERDI

Well, Tessa, is the sauce ready?

TESSA

Yes, Maestro, I’ve added the onions and garlic, and it’s quite nice.

VERDI

Good. Fanny, you are about to witness a concoction.

FANNY

In your hands, Maestro, a masterpiece.

TESSA

Maestro, when do you want me to start frying the eggplant?

VERDI

Not for a while, Tessa.  Why don’t you go out to the garden and cut some fresh flowers for Mlle. Fanny’s room?  A large bouquet.

TESSA

Very well, Maestro.  (She reluctantly leaves.  Verdi shuts the top of the door.)

VERDI

Drafty, isn’t it?

FANNY

Maestro, before we begin, perhaps you could explain me one small thing. Everyone in Italy is talking the politics, the politics, and nothing else. The politics on the train, the politics in town, and it is most fatiguing. And always they are hating France. Could you say why a little?

VERDI

I’m afraid it’s rather complicated.

FANNY

That is fine. I love the complications. Please.

VERDI

Very well. You are aware that my people are engaged in a struggle for political unity and freedom?

FANNY

What does this mean?

VERDI

Hm. You must have noticed that your train was very often stopped by passport and customs inspectors.

FANNY

Yes, and they were impudent, nasty and rude.

VERDI

No doubt. They exist in such quantity because after the fall of Napoleon, Italy was divided into a number of petty duchies and provinces, mostly under Austrian control.

FANNY

Yes, a lovely country.  I made a great success in Vienna.

VERDI

That may be, but we Italians would prefer to govern ourselves. For years we have struggled to free ourselves and create a republic, without success. Recently it has seemed more politic to form a union under King Victor Emmanuel of Piedmont.

FANNY

Yes, I believe that the republics are horribly vulgar. But what is the special virtue of this King Victor...?

VERDI

Emmanuel. He rules the only independent kingdom in the entire peninsula. He has influence in the councils of Europe. Enough to have attracted France as an ally in the war with Austria which has recently ended. An ally who proved, shall we say, unreliable. France made a separate peace, and Austria’s next move is uncertain. Hence our displeasure.

FANNY

Maestro, what a lucid mind you have.  Have you thought of going into politics?

VERDI

Something of the sort has been suggested.

FANNY

I think you would be most attractive in the political arena.

VERDI

I shun it, Mademoiselle. My mind, which you find so lucid, is to me a jumble of different forces vying for my attention. Not only political forces, but the inventions of my own brain: Rigoletto and Boccanegra, Azucena, Violetta, the Duke of Mantua. A dozen civilizations, from ancient Babylon to medieval Spain, have lived inside of me, and dozens more clamor to be born. Hope and despair, love, jealousy, the thirst for revenge, every emotion that ravages the frenzied heart of mankind cries out to me with the same demand: Experience me! Understand me! Plunge into the very depths of my madness, and find the song hidden there! And I must obey. The silent voice of my imagination is more powerful than all the cannons of all the kings of Europe. What place have I in the world of parliamentary protocol?

FANNY

Truly, Monsieur Verdi, you are quite the man. Oo-la-la, the sauce is burning!

VERDI

(Transferring the saucepan to the worktable.)   You see, the mundane always calls us back, dream as we may. Well, we caught it in time. Shall we begin?   (He trades his coat for an apron on the rack.)

FANNY

Allow me, Maestro.  (She ties it behind him as he dons a chef’s hat.)  One for me also, please.

VERDI (tying her apron)

Cooking is a serious business, Fanny. After agriculture, it is the very basis of civilization.

FANNY

Maestro, you are talking to a French woman. Tighter, please. Merci.

VERDI

Preparing a fine tomato sauce is like orchestrating an opera; each ingredient is an instrument, to be combined with the others without sacrificing its own character.

FANNY

Very true.

VERDI

We begin with the basic tomato puree, simmered with sautéed onions and garlic. All fresh from our own garden. This is our string choir.

FANNY

Bravo!

VERDI

To this we add three pungent bay leaves, akin to the forceful, melancholy glow of the trombone.

FANNY

Un, deux, trois!

VERDI

Precisely. Now a sprinkling of fresh basil for the gentle and caressing savor of --

FANNY

The silvery flute.

VERDI

Oui. And expanding our woodwind choir, we tickle the palate with pepper, as the piccolo tickles the ear.

FANNY

Maestro, this is divine.

VERDI

Now pour in some clarinet.

FANNY

Some what?

VERDI

Cream.

FANNY

Oh, yes.

VERDI

Not too much. And now the sweet, mellow throb of the harp.

FANNY

Honey?

VERDI

Oui. And what do you suppose is next?

FANNY

The tuba.

VERDI

No. Something special and unique. The tingling accent of the snare drum. Grated ginger root.

FANNY

Ah!

VERDI

Voila!

FANNY

But, Maestro, you have left out the most important ingredient. The human voice. The soprano.

VERDI

I was saving that, my dear Fanny. The fundamental herb, both sweet and stimulating. Between my hands, I crush the oregano.

FANNY

Let me crush some, too.

VERDI

Now stir well, so the flavors intermingle. And now there is one more essential. The flame.

FANNY

The flame?

VERDI

The fire.

FANNY

Ah.

They carry the saucepan back to the stove. They are temptingly close, when Tessa bursts through the swinging door.

TESSA

Maestro, is it time to fry the eggplant? Oh, dear!

VERDI

No, Tessa, it is not.

TESSA

Oh. Well, I’ve left a  lovely bouquet in Madamazel’s room.

VERDI

Is it scented?

TESSA

Scented how?

VERDI

With lavender, and so forth. Go out to the herb garden, the far one, and pick some lavender.

TESSA

And so forth.

VERDI

Yes. At once.

TESSA

Yes, Maestro.  (Exit.)

VERDI

Where were we?

FANNY

By the fire.

VERDI

Oh, yes. Well, while it simmers, we can grate some dry Parmesan cheese. Even grating cheese can be a fine art. It all depends on the rhythm.

FANNY

Of course. I have often admired the suppleness of the Maestro’s baton.

VERDI

Give me your hand, and I’ll demonstrate. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three...   (They grate the cheese together. While Verdi counts, Fanny bursts into the “Brindisi” from traviata.)

FANNY

Tra-la la-la-la la-la-la...

While I am young and jolly,

All in the world is but folly, but folly,

Save for pleasure alone.   (Verdi joins her:)

The thrill of love is fleeting

Enjoy it in its hour,

For like the fragile flower

It fades and is no more.

Enjoy it, when pleasure is ours for the taking --

(A discreetly loud cough from behind the swinging door interrupts their reverie. They spring apart as Peppina enters.)

PEPPINA

Lasagna, my love?

VERDI

Eggplant Parmesan.

PEPPINA

Oh, wizard, your specialty.

FANNY

We were just grating the cheese.

PEPPINA

Pray, continue.  (Sniffing the sauce:)  Hm. Rather more oregano than usual.

VERDI

My hand slipped.

PEPPINA

No matter. Variety is the spice of life, as they say.

FANNY

Yes, they do. Even in France.

PEPPINA

And we all know the French have a dreadful habit of appropriating all sorts of things to which they have no right.

FANNY

I can’t imagine what you mean.

PEPPINA

Well, for argument’s sake, why don’t we say…Algeria? Or Egypt? Or even some person who might be claimed by another?

VERDI

Why not simply avoid argument and let’s all have a glass of wine? Peppina? Mademoiselle Fanny? No? Too bad. Now where’s Tessa? It’s time to fry the eggplant.

He leans back on the stove and burns his hand.

PEPPINA

Verdi! Oh my goodness.

FANNY

Maestro, are you hurt?

VERDI

No no no no, it’s nothing.

PEPPINA

Let me see. Oh, dear. We must send Tessa to the herb garden for some aloe vera at once. Where is that girl?

VERDI

In the herb garden.

PEPPINA

Then you must go yourself.

VERDI

Peppina, I assure you --

PEPPINA

Verdi, Italy’s music depends on your hands. Go break off a piece of aloe vera and squeeze the sap onto the burn. There’s nothing like it. I shall keep Mlle. Fanny entertained.

VERDI (doffing his chef’s hat)

Oh, very well. Excuse me, mademoiselle.   (Exit.)

FANNY

Monsieur.

PEPPINA (moving the saucepan)

These men are so awfully careless, aren’t they?  We don’t want this to burn. I think I will drink some wine now.  Will you join me?

FANNY

Perhaps not. But thank you. On second thought, yes.

Peppina pours two glasses.

PEPPINA

How I love this kitchen. We have made so many alterations and extensions at Sant’ Agata since moving here. I believe that this is the only room we have not slept in–Verdi and I. Fanny, my 

dear,--I may call you Fanny?--Fanny, I wonder if you can understand the depth of my isolation in this rural retreat, or appreciate how dearly I value the presence of another woman to confide in.

FANNY

You flatter me, Madame Strepponi.

PEPPINA

Peppina.  Please.

FANNY

Peppina.

PEPPINA

I never flatter another woman, Fanny.  As this world goes, things are difficult enough for us without deceiving one another.  We are sisters, and should behave as such, don’t you think?

FANNY

When we can.        

PEPPINA

I must be sincere with you. I have an inclination to envy you, not only your youth and beauty, but the brilliance of your career. Mine was cut short nearly fifteen years ago. The life of a singer was so different in those days: we were the property of impresarios who could send us anywhere, exploiting our talents for their own profit. I was fortunate to be engaged by Signor Merelli, the impresario of La Scala, who was kinder than most. You know the ways of the theatre, Fanny. Merelli became my…protector, and used me to our mutual advantage. He was married, by the bye. Then as now no gauge of morality. And yet…

FANNY

And yet? 

PEPPINA

It can have its uses.   (She drifts.)   Where was I?

FANNY

With Merelli.

PEPPINA

Ah, yes. I was catered to and sought after. One day a young composer came to me with the score of his first opera, as many had done before him, hoping through my favor to gain access to Merelli. This one succeeded where the others failed.

FANNY

Verdi?

PEPPINA

Himself. What a bumpkin he was then! The first thing I noticed was how poorly his clothes fit, and how he stumbled over his store-bought manners. But as he played through his opera, I felt an urgency and vigor that made the luxury around me seem pallid. I sang in the premiere of that 

PEPPINA (cont.)

opera, and during the next few years, as I watched him grow through heartbreak, failure and success, one thought came forward: Merelli might advance my career, but Verdi would illuminate my soul. The choice was obvious.

FANNY

How wonderful to be loved by such a man!

PEPPINA

You’re young, Fanny. To love is everything. To be loved is nothing.

FANNY

And did you throw over this Merelli to unite your life with the Maestro?

PEPPINA

Not so romantic by half. I chose first to test myself. I wanted to approach him as an equal, or not at all. I knew my voice was going–no, that is a lie. I pushed it until it was gone, and then I went to Paris, where I met with great success as a teacher of vocal technique. Others profited from my mistakes.

FANNY

I know that you were highly thought of.

PEPPINA

Ha! Well, at least I was highly paid. And before long I played host to the young Italian composer who had taken Paris by storm. And so our union began. 

FANNY

And have you always been very happy together?

PEPPINA

Happiness comes and goes. Learning keeps on. He teaches me to be strong and I teach him to be gentle. Without such exchange, there is little reason for man and woman to live together. We have even exchanged sexes in a way, for in our household, it is he who bears the children, and I who provide for their growth.

FANNY

That seems most improper.

PEPPINA

Propriety is no cradle for the making of art, Fanny, and that is the childbearing I speak of. I know that the good Lord has punished me for my sins, for I shall never carry Verdi’s child. Instead, I am the father to his children. Not everybody can write Rigoletto. Someone has to pack and unpack the trunks. For the sake of his art, I make sure that the house is in good order, that the meals are properly served, that the lamps are not left burning all night. What other women do out of servile necessity, I do out of boundless love. And that makes all the difference.

FANNY

Oh, Peppina, I am so ashamed.

PEPPINA

Goodness, no, my dear.  Why?

FANNY

To think that I was ready to…to…

PEPPINA

Calm yourself, dear Fanny. Verdi is a robust and passionate man. His music declares it, and his person affirms it. Had those qualities failed to attract you, you’d have lacked the sensitivity 

essential to every artist–and every woman. And I’m sure that in the future, you’ll be equally sensitive to me. I feel certain of it.

FANNY

Oh, Peppina! You still accept my friendship?

PEPPINA

I welcome it, Fanny! There is always room in my heart for a true and a loyal sister.

FANNY

Yes. Forever. My darling sister.

Verdi enters to discover Fanny sobbing on Peppina’s bosom.  His hand is bandaged.

VERDI

Sisters?

PEPPINA

Forever.

FANNY

Maestro, forgive me. Your Peppina is...a saint!   (She runs out.)

VERDI

Canonized at last. Someone should inform the Pope.

PEPPINA

What do you mean, wizard?

VERDI

Don’t “wizard” me, woman, I’ve seen you play that sister game before.

PEPPINA

It is not a game, Verdi. How is your hand?

VERDI

To hell with my hand! It’s my heart that’s on fire.

PEPPINA

(Re-opening the top of the dutch door)   It is rather hot in here.

VERDI

Ah yes, how sensitive you are! And thoughtful. And responsive. The very picture of domestic affection. The perfect mate. At this rate, you might as well be my wife, contract and all.

PEPPINA

Yes, Verdi, perhaps that is true.

VERDI

Perhaps nothing! Spare yourself; I won’t hear a word of it!

PEPPINA

The suggestion was yours, I believe.

VERDI

That was no suggestion! 

PEPPINA

It wasn’t?

VERDI

No! It was a blurt.

PEPPINA

Call it what you like.

VERDI

I call it nothing! Must I remind you of the pledge we made in Paris, never to mention this topic?

PEPPINA

I have observed that pledge for twelve years, Verdi, and I need no reminder of it from you! Besides, the topic of marriage, if I may use that forbidden word, has no bearing on the agitation you seem to feel over the hindrance to your little culinary tête-à-tête.

VERDI

Damn your wiles, and your tricks, and your feminine traps!

PEPPINA

Storm away, Verdi my dear. Play Lear on the heath to your heart’s content; in my heart the sun is warm and bright. If you can find another woman who feels the same, go to her. I’ll not stop you. Go to her! I’ll pack my valises and pay my own way through life, as you know very well I can. But first ask your lady love if she’ll endure what I’ve endured. Being snubbed and scorned by every self-appointed guardian of respectability. Sitting at home alone and uninvited while her man is adored, and no doubt flirted with, at a hundred soirees. What woman could refuse such an arrangement? Who wouldn’t want to be Verdi’s whore?

VERDI

I swear to you I would kill anyone who dared to speak that word.

PEPPINA

And what of those who merely think it? Or say it where you can’t hear them? They hide their disapproval from the great man’s gaze, but I see it on every face in Busetto.

VERDI

Damn them all! Damn anyone who would shame you!

PEPPINA

It shames us both, blind to it though you may be.

VERDI

Blind? Blind? Me?

PEPPINA

Oh yes, my dear. Blinded by genius. And by pride.

TESSA (entering)

Oh, Signora, please speak to Madamazel Sax. She is crying and insists that I pack her things.

PEPPINA

Oh, what nonsense! Verdi, calm yourself. I’m going to fetch our little friend. Poor thing. Come, Tessa.  (They go.)

VERDI

Damn these women!   (He empties both glasses of wine and pours another.)

NINO (appearing at the Dutch door)

How’s that sauce doing, radish? Oh, hello, Maestro, I didn’t know-- 

VERDI

What do you want?

NINO

Oh, nothing special. Say, Maestro, I heard the great news and I’m thrilled. Thrilled!

VERDI

What are you talking about?

NINO

You standing for the Assembly. What a blow for freedom! All Europe will back us now.

VERDI

I’m not standing for anything! And I will not tolerate the spreading of false rumors, do you hear me? Absolutely false!

NINO

Keeping it confidential. I understand.

VERDI

Nino, go away, will you? Just go away.

NINO

Yes, Maestro. All the same, it’s wonderful. You, the Voice of Italy! 

VERDI

Apparently I’m not even the voice of myself. What did I just say?

NINO

Don’t worry. Mum’s the word.   (He exits.)

VERDI

Flaming hell, why can’t they leave me in peace? “The Voice of Italy!”   (Peppina and Tessa return with Fanny, dressed to go.)

PEPPINA

Now sit down, Fanny darling, and I’ll fix you a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. How dare you think of leaving us? I should be terribly hurt, and so would Verdi. You know he is preparing his favorite recipe for you. Eggplant Parmesan.

FANNY

Yes, I helped to orchestrate it.

PEPPINA

Of course, my dear. And I’m sure it will be delicious. Won’t it, Verdi?

VERDI

Delicious.

PEPPINA

You see?  You will stay, won’t you?

FANNY

I will stay.

PEPPINA

There.  That’s better.

VERDI

Well, don’t just stand there, Tessa.  Fry the eggplant.   (He slams on his chef’s hat.)

FAST CURTAIN

Intermezzo: The Brindisi (“Libiamo, Libiamo”), LaTraviata, act i

Scene Two.  The park behind the garden. A sunny afternoon, three weeks later. A row of hedges forms a semi-circle upstage, trees beyond. Downstage on either side are low gates leading to other parts of the estate. Up center is a gazebo with a thatched roof and a table and chairs. Downstage, more lawn chairs and a couple of stone benches. Tessa is seated on a bench, left, poring over a book. Verdi enters from right, munching on a fresh-picked carrot.

VERDI

Tessa, what’s this?

TESSA

Ivanhoe.

VERDI

Did Nino give it to you?

TESSA

No, he doesn’t approve of novels. He’s a wonderful teacher, but the books he wants me to read sound so boring, always about the tyranny of the proletarians, and such things. This is a present from the Signora.

VERDI

And you’re reading it?

TESSA

No, but I’m sure I will, because the pictures are so wonderful. This knight is Ivanhoe, and this is the beautiful damsel he loves. And this is Sir Walter Scott.

Nino waltzes in with a wide flat-box full of eight -inch high corn seedlings to set on a bench. Tessa hides the book beneath her apron.

NINO

Maestro, Tessa, look at these! All this in just three weeks! Truly our sun works miracles. And wait till I get them in the ground. Then we’ll see some growing. The leaves will shoot up like Bernini’s fountains. And the harvest! Maestro, I promise you, take away my high G if this little box doesn’t feed half the Po Valley.

TESSA

Nino, it’s beautiful. I’m so proud of you. Aren’t you, Maestro?

VERDI

Yes, I am.

NINO

That makes three of us. Tessa, you lazybones, why aren’t you working on your lessons?

TESSA

Oh, you’re worse than Rosa with your nagging. Can’t a girl breathe? The sun’s as good for me as it is for that pesky corn.

NINO

What’s that?

TESSA

What’s what?

NINO

You know quite well what. This. Ivanhoe?

TESSA

I was only looking at the pictures.

NINO

Tessa, why must you waste your time with fiction when the world is so interesting? Maestro, do you encourage this?

VERDI

Forgive me, Nino. I shall base my next opera on the writings of Galileo.

TESSA

Besides, I’ll read what I choose, with or without your permission.

NINO

Behold the fruits of education. You’ve hardly mastered the alphabet and you’re already thinking for yourself.

TESSA

You are an oaf. Come and help me with the lemonade punch.

NINO

Soon, radish. I’ve got to water my babies first.

TESSA

Don’t keep me waiting.  (She goes.  Nino fetches a watering can from behind the gazebo.)

VERDI

You’re good with plants, Nino. Know anything about horses?

NINO

Not much.

VERDI

A young colt in training should always be kept in harness. Otherwise, it will try to be a racer, when you only want it to pull a wagon. You’d better decide which course you want for Tessa.

NINO

What makes you think I want anything for her?

VERDI

Horse sense.

NINO

I don’t even know what I want for myself. When I’m singing, or tending this corn, I feel like a racer. But when I stumble over the ignorance and pig-headedness of other people, I realize that I’m hitched to a wagon, and I’d better start pulling.

VERDI

Nino, consider the carrot. An organism entirely free from agitation. Tranquil, self-contained, it has but a single purpose in life: to provide nourishment. It fulfills that purpose not from any contrived sense of duty or obligation, but from simple fidelity to its own nature. Does it ever scold or complain: that its part isn’t big enough, that its salary isn’t big enough, that it craves diversion, or recognition?

NINO

A carrot?

VERDI

Patience, Nino, and I’ll teach you a truth every peasant knows. The carrot makes no demands; therefore, no demands are made upon it. Let it have enough sun and enough rain, and it grows. 

VERDI (cont.)

Naturally and at its own rate, unforced, it grows. Full of beauty and flavor, stretching with a single motion into the soil and the air, it grows. And if it runs into a stone, it grows around it.

NINO

And if it runs into a person, it gets eaten.

VERDI

True. Yet who has ever been assaulted by a carrot bent on vengeance?

NINO

Maestro, I like carrots. But they can’t sing. Or write music. Or think.

VERDI

How lucky they are! Nino, you have discovered the secret of why fields are always so peaceful: plenty of growing and no thinking. What a joy, for even a moment to clear your mind of regret for the past and anxiety for the future.

NINO

What about hope for the future? For life in a new nation, free and happy?

VERDI

Ha! You think Victor Emmanuel will deliver that?

NINO

With help from the rest of us. You don’t?

VERDI

I’m not sure. I don’t trust kings, even when they grant constitutions. I have yet to meet a king who knew his way around a compost heap. To me, the idea of a republic has always seemed more reliable. And now they’re asking me to applaud the swap of an Austrian crown for an Italian one. Will that make us free and happy?

NINO

There’s no guarantee even with a republic, constitution or not.  France declared a republic and made Napoleon Emperor.  America declared a republic and crowns the stock exchange king.

VERDI

What do I care about America, Nino?  Can’t you radicals ever stick to the point?

NINO

The point is freedom, Maestro. 

VERDI

And what is that, precisely? Everybody talks about freedom, and urges each the other to struggle and sacrifice for it, but is it ever more than an illusion, with death lurking behind the façade?

NINO

We talk about it because we feel it. Even when it seems stifled, when it’s just a seed inside of us, a dim idea barely flickering, freedom pulls us. Toward justice. Toward joy. It’s bigger than crowns or constitutions. Bigger than rules or possessions. It’s what makes the carrots grow, or the music spring from your pen. I don’t know if I understand it. But that’s all right, because the 

NINO (cont.)

idea of it will guide me, the way those seeds of corn, stuck in a pouch for six months, found a way at last to free the energy that drives them toward the sun. 

VERDI

Driving too near the sun is a good way to get burned. Plants can shrivel. So can ideals. Even souls.

NINO

Can’t they be revived, as well? There’s a new world coming. Now we fight for political freedom, later for economic freedom, and who knows what other freedoms until the day comes when there’s no need for fighting, because everyone is free.

VERDI

Impossible, Nino.

NINO

Why?

VERDI

Because the world is governed by petty nonentities who answer every call for justice with bayonets! Custom and convention, force and fear rule the world, and joy crumbles before them. Back in ’48 we kicked out the Austrians, and celebrated freedom for what, a few months? Till Austria came back with more troops and bigger guns.

NINO

So the alternative is to do nothing? Maestro, do you mean it? When the nation asks you to midwife its next birth, could you seriously refuse?

VERDI

I love Italy, damn it! I do. Her soil, her art, her people. But it’s a sorry day for her when she depends on me for a midwife. 

NINO

She depends on every one of us. Troops and guns can’t break the will of a united people. You’ve helped to forge that will, Maestro, you should know how irresistible it is.

VERDI

I’ve done nothing. In ’48, I wrote a fiercely patriotic opera to rouse the people’s emotions. They screamed and cheered for it, but it was worthless against the Austrian guns.

NINO

When my father was shot on the barricades he was singing a Verdi anthem, and it -- 

VERDI

Stop, Nino! I don’t want to know that.

NINO

Why not? Your music gave him the spirit to face death with a shine in his eye. Not because you wrote it, but because something stronger than you inspired it, and that same something will keep on inspiring music and courage until not only Italy but all Europe, all the world finally abolishes the bars to human freedom.

VERDI

This is not a street corner, Nino. You don’t need to make speeches.

NINO

If all you heard was a speech I’d better start again.

VERDI

Please don’t. I’ll say one thing: my boyhood dreams of becoming a composer, when nothing but a few moldy planks stood between me and the dirt, are as nothing to the miracles you dream of.

NINO

Your dreams came true.

VERDI

Not until I suffered so much I wished I’d never dreamed them.

NINO

Too many people suffer already.  Why should I swell their ranks?

VERDI

You may not be given the choice.  I wasn’t.

NINO

Besides, look at the miracles that are happening already. Miracles of science and industry that are reshaping the world. The ones you spoke of that day, remember? Linking distant people together with words that travel through wires, who could imagine such a thing? Only one more miracle is needed, Maestro: that all these astounding inventions, and all the others yet to come, be created not for the love of profit, but for the love of humanity.

BAGASSET (entering, richly dressed)

Hey, you chatterin’ monkey, what about sparin’ some of yer fancy words for an old business partner?

NINO

Fiddle, look at you!

BAGASSET

And a good day to you, Maestro, you fine man.

VERDI

Bagasset, how did you come by those clothes?

BAGASSET

Maestro, you are gazin’ upon a new-made human. My dear sister, may she cavort with the angels, lived but a day after I gets to her, although we yet shared a laugh or two before the final expiration. And who does she place at the helm of her humble but gratifyin’ estate? Me, Bagasset, bein’ her only survivin’ kin, savin’ a bold young nephew as is gone off to enlist with General Garibaldi.

VERDI

Garibaldi?

BAGASSET

The very same, who, as they whispers, is recruitin’ in Genoa for an expedition to liberate yet another slice of our oppressed peninsula.  Ah, these men of valor! 

NINO

And you’re left with a house?

BAGASSET

A house and a patch of garden, small but edible. And I, havin’ only yesterday doffed forever my dismal rags of grief, has now embarked upon the life of a man of propertee. I, Bagasset, as is never had two shoes that went together proper! But clothes makes the man, as they says, and I, for one, believes in holdin’ quality down to a maximum.

VERDI

You old sinner!

BAGASSET

Yes, but the good Lord don’t hold ‘em against me, knowin’ as I only ever did ‘em for fun.

VERDI

Will you stay a while?  My father-in-law and Fanny Sax will be here shortly.

BAGASSET

Much as I would exhilarate it, Maestro, I has to get right on to Busseto, to communicate, if that be the proper phrase, with a lawyer. What a funny business this dyin’ is. Happens day after day, and rare it is that it don’t stow some benefit back of its tears. Take my old friend, Domenico Ruggere. Finest fiddle-maker south of the Alps. His young son, Marco, was ridin’ his sled one winter’s day, and at the bottom of a hill smashes into a tree stump and so meets his early end. Old Domenico cuts that stump apart and makes it into a violin. He lets me play on it once, and I’ll swear up and down you could hear the little boy’s soul singin’ right up out of that fiddle.

VERDI

I’ll walk you to the gate, old friend.

BAGASSET

What about you, Nino?

NINO

No, I’m going to sing to my corn for a while.

BAGASSET

Corn? Bless my heart, that’s the stuff, is it? Well, well. All that talk done some good after all. So long, boy. Head my way if ever you need somethin’.   (He and Verdi exit.)

NINO (“La donna è mobile”) 

You look so beautiful

Sweet tender little spears

But when you’re big enough

I’ll pull you by the ears.

Perfectly beautiful,

That’s what you are to me–

(Peppina and fanny stroll on with fans and parasols.)

FANNY

Oh, it is that strange young man. Peppina, I have forgotten his name.

PEPPINA

Nino, dear, come here. Giving a concert?

NINO

Just for the corn, Signora. Music gives them a boost.

PEPPINA

My, how they’ve grown! Look, Fanny, infant corn.

FANNY

Yes, for the pigs to eat.

NINO

For everybody to eat, Madamazel.

FANNY

Oh no, Monsieur Nino. I think these vegetables are morbid.

PEPPINA

Fanny has just returned from a triumphant recital in Rome.

FANNY

I have never been so acclaimed.

NINO

Maybe we could do some duets together sometime.

FANNY

A charming suggestion, Monsieur Nino, but misfortunately I never open my mouth outside of the opera house.

NINO

I’m surprised you aren’t a lot thinner.

PEPPINA

Nino!

FANNY

What did he say, Peppina?

PEPPINA

Just a silly joke.  Nino thinks bad manners will save the world.

FANNY

I should like to sit down in that charming hovel.   (She retires to the gazebo.)

PEPPINA

I’ll join you in a moment. Nino, your mischief is delightful to someone with a sense of humor, but Fanny is a prima donna.

NINO

I treat everybody the same, Signora. That’s not bad manners, it’s democracy.

PEPPINA

Oh, what are we to do with you, you firebrand?

NINO

Enlist my aid.

PEPPINA

In what?

NINO

Signora, I’ve been talking with the Maestro, and I think I could persuade him to do whatever might be necessary to ensure his participation in the Assembly at Parma next month.  There, I said that with tact, didn’t I?

PEPPINA

This is too much! Fanny, do you hear this? Nino wishes to be a conspirator with us. Soon there will be no secrets left in the world.

FANNY

A conspirator? Oh, la matrimonie.

PEPPINA

I appreciate your offer, Nino, but I think this is an affair I can handle myself. It requires the feminine touch.

NINO

Time is running out, Signora. There’s only ten days till the district election, and the Maestro has yet to announce himself as a candidate.

PEPPINA

Modify your interest in the matter, young man.

NINO

Why? I’ve got loads of good ideas, I know that. Now that I’ve the chance, I’m going to use my influence.

PEPPINA

Your influence! Nino, I’ve lived with the man for twelve years; I know the effort it takes to make him change his mind. Pressure has its uses. But so has silence.

NINO

What are you planning to do, then?

PEPPINA

For now, nothing. Let the water find its own way to the sea.

FANNY

Bravo, Peppina! Monsieur Nino, touché.

NINO

I tell you that’s no way to get things done.

PEPPINA

Nino, you are presumptuous. It does not become a young man of your sensitivity. I insist that you exercise discretion and patience.

NINO

Patience! Patience is what the ruling class has been preaching to its slaves since time began. You should know better than to preach it to me, Signora.

PEPPINA

I preach it to myself.

NINO

I don’t.

PEPPINA

You will, Nino. Not because I say so, but because no one, man or woman, can survive in this world without it.

FANNY

Peppina, please, all this argumenting is making me thirsty. You know what it means to have a throat.

PEPPINA

Of course, Fanny. Nino, would you be so--

NINO

Oh my God, Tessa wanted me to help her with the punch! She’ll flay me alive. Don’t go away.  (He rushes out.)

FANNY

That disagreeable young man! Why do you tolerate him, my dear?

PEPPINA

Verdi likes him. And so do I, most of the time. He’s young. Some day he’ll understand there’s a difference between loving what’s right and hating what’s wrong.

FANNY

Peppina, I must ask you about a very serious matter. I am more than anxious. Tell me, what gave you the first warning of trouble with your voice?

PEPPINA

A scratch in my upper register. Just below the top.

FANNY

Yes, that is what I am fearing. I felt that same scratch in Rome. No one could hear it except me, but I could hear nothing else.

PEPPINA

It may not be so serious, Fanny. Often those things disappear in a matter of days.

FANNY

Peppina, I am so frightened.

PEPPINA

Forbid it, Fanny. Discipline yourself. Inhale the vapor of boiling salt water several times a day. That helped my students in Paris.

FANNY

But what will I do if I lose my voice?

PEPPINA

You will live, as I have. My final season in Palermo was so disastrous I thought constantly of taking my own life.

FANNY

You?

PEPPINA

Instead I made the move to Paris, where Verdi eventually joined me. So it turned out well in the end. I give you the same advice I gave Nino: Patience. Endurance. You’ll be singing for years to come.

FANNY

I hope so. I adore it, you know.

VERDI (entering with Barezzi)

Look at them, Babbo. Plotting, you may be sure. When women have the talent for secrets, they have it even stronger than us. Good afternoon, ladies.

FANNY

Ah, Maestro, here you are. And Monsieur Barelli. Barezzi. I have not seen you since the weather was so inclement.

BAREZZI

How do you do, Mademoiselle.

VERDI

Babbo’s in a monstrous pique just now.  Tell them why.

BAREZZI

I don’t find it amusing in the least. It’s all the fault of that inflammatory young street singer. I told the groom at your carriage house to have a care what he fed my horses, and what do you think he said? He told me to mind my petty bourgeois business! Who taught him that, do you suppose?

PEPPINA

Verdi, that is intolerable.

VERDI

Yes, I suppose I must have a word with the groom.

BAREZZI

What good will that do? That singer person will just keep up his incessant, arrogant agitation. You should never have allowed him to stay.

VERDI

He’s not so bad. Peppina likes him. And look what he’s done with this corn. You must admit, it’s remarkable for three weeks’ germination.

BAREZZI

Oh, Verdi, what’s another few ears of corn to you? Can’t you see he’s just using it as an excuse to stay here instead of singing on some filthy street corner with his hat out?

VERDI

That’s terrible, Babbo.

BAREZZI

It’s true. Devil take him, here he comes.

Nino and Tessa enter with a pitcher and cups, which they set on the table.  Tessa begins to fill and pass them around.

TESSA

Here we are. I hope everyone is thirsty. We’d have been here sooner, but for Nino.

BAREZZI

Off expounding on Karl Marx to the mules and oxen, I suppose. In song.

NINO

You know, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll throw in a chorus for you, if you like. Free of charge.

PEPPINA

The punch is delicious, Tessa. Do try it, Signor Bar--

BAREZZI

Young man, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be working on this estate, instead of mingling with your betters?

NINO

Regardless of the way you may treat your employees, Signor, the Maestro doesn’t keep his chained up.

VERDI

All right, Nino--

BAREZZI

How dare you, you insolent upstart! I’ve never mistreated an employee in my life. I have been a model of business integrity.

VERDI

Calm yourself, Babbo.

BAREZZI

I demand an apology, Verdi.  I will not be vilified to my face by a common little beggar.

NINO

There is nothing common about me.  Who do you think you are to demand anything?

VERDI

Really, Nino, that’s enough. Show some respect.

NINO

For what? His fine clothes? His position? His money? If I’m a beggar, Signor, it’s because men like you have to make people poor so that you can get rich.

BAREZZI

God in heaven, I shall burst in pieces!

FANNY

Oh dear, this is making me giddy.

TESSA

Nino, come back to the kitchen.

NINO

Leave me alone.

VERDI

Nino, you’re talking like an idiot. I insist that you apologize. Signor Barezzi is my friend and benefactor. He has the most generous heart of any man I’ve ever known.

NINO

Oh yes, a patron of the arts. So he owns you, is that it? Bought and paid for. I thought you were above that, Maestro.

TESSA

Nino, please come away!

VERDI

Nobody owns me. Nobody! Nobody! I’m quite as free as you are, although I don’t bray about it as much. I worked and sweated for everything I have, all of it, and never once bowed low to anyone. And I will not hear the man whose daughter I married slandered in my own house.

NINO

Yes, especially the house where you keep the best woman in Europe like a common concubine.

FANNY

Oh, Peppina, my dear.

PEPPINA (simultaneously)

You fool, Nino.

VERDI

Get out of here.

NINO

Maestro, I’m sorry. But it’s true.

VERDI

Damn you, get off my land.

He seizes the box of seedlings, lifts it high above his head and smashes it upside down into the ground, stomping on it.

PEPPINA

Verdi, no!

VERDI

Off this property by sundown.

NINO

You won’t have to wait that long.   (He runs out.)

TESSA

Nino!   (She follows him off.)

PEPPINA

Oh, Verdi.

VERDI

Get away from me, all of you.

PEPPINA

Come along, Fanny.   (They start out.)

BAREZZI

Verdi--

VERDI

You, too, Babbo.

PEPPINA

Signor Barezzi, please.

They all go out. Verdi screams. Peppina returns. They stare at each other in silence.

CURTAIN

Entr’acte: The Miserere, Il Trovatore, act iv, fading out during the repeat of the monks’ chorus.

ACT THREE

Scene One.  The drawing room, late that evening.  All is dark save for the globular lamp and a waning fire, into which Verdi is staring, alone.  Bagasset appears at the french doors, tapping on the glass.  Verdi whirls around and Bagasset comes in.

BAGASSET

Cold night for this time of year, has you noticed?

VERDI

What do you want?

BAGASSET

A word or two in yer ear.

VERDI

I don’t feel like talking.

BAGASSET

Just as well. Forty year ago you used to listen to me all the time with nary a peep, and it won’t hurt you none to keep at it. Nino come to me this evenin’ and tells me about today’s terrible deeds. Now I ain’t pickin’ who’s right nor wrong; blame don’t help nobody live longer. My bid is that the two of you needs to sit down together and chew on it till you’ve made peace, cause this kind of sour fit can hang over all yer days and cramp ‘em up fierce. Maestro, what do you say?

VERDI

No.

BAGASSET

Come on, Maestro, there’s somethin’ between you and the boy could still be sweet if you’d let it. His brain explodes outa his mouth too much, but he’s a good fella with a true heart, you seen that the first day, or I ain’t Bagasset. Just give him a chance to tell you how sorry he’s feelin’ for what he said.

VERDI

Go away. Go away.

BAGASSET

You look me in the eye and say them words.

VERDI (complying)

Go away.

BAGASSET

Well, well. It’s powerful dark in there, and there ain’t a melody stirrin’. I’ll go then. But not without first I gives you somethin’ I was thinkin’ I’d keep forever. The souvenir of a great man as is no longer so great.   (He takes out the box with the gold medallion.)

VERDI

I never claimed to be a great man.

BAGASSET

No need. Yer music says it for you. Now either you or the music is lyin’.   (He throws the box down and goes back to the doors, where Nino is waiting, urges him into the room, and leaves.)

NINO

Maestro, may I talk to you?

VERDI

Get out.

NINO

Please. Just for a while.

VERDI

(Threatening him with a fire iron.)   I said get out!

NINO

Hit me if you want to, but I’ll stand my ground till I’ve said what I have to say.

VERDI (casting it aside)

Say it, and begone. I’ve done damage enough for one day.

NINO

Maestro, I admire and respect you more than any man alive–

VERDI

Stop right there. I’m sick to death of admiration! I don’t much like myself just now, nor do I care who does. Understand?

NINO

Yes. I don’t much like myself either. I’m sorry that I caused you pain.

VERDI

The pain was there before you came, Nino.

NINO

Then I’m sorry I made it sore again. That ignorance and pig-headedness I’ve been stumbling over are my very own. How can I prescribe for the ills of humanity when my own emotions make a fool of me?

VERDI

Emotions make a fool of everyone. Maybe that’s what they’re for. To knock the conceit out of our stupid heads.

NINO

But you’ve mastered your emotions. You turn them into music.

VERDI

I’ve mastered nothing. I’m slave to a grief that hides within me and mocks my efforts to subdue it. Don’t let this fine house and its lands deceive you. I was raised in helpless, agonizing poverty and what that seared into my soul holds me captive still. Why do you think I write operas and not symphonies? When I create characters for the stage I’m a puppet master, running the show, pull-ing the strings, aloof.  I toy with tragedy at a safe remove. When I don’t like what a librettist sends me, I can make him rewrite it. But I can’t rewrite life. 

NINO

Why would you want to? Your life is a miracle.

VERDI

Don’t say that. It’s talk like that that made me destroy your plants. Your babies.

NINO

Please. I brought that on myself.

VERDI

You don’t understand, Nino. When I threw them to the ground, it was you I was trying to destroy. You and your noble ideals. You and your fearless truths. Worst of all, your faith that life can be better than it seems. I wanted to hurt you as you hurt me. No man likes being exposed as a coward.

NINO

A coward? You? How can you say that?

VERDI

I must. Finally I must. What else stops me from marrying Peppina? It’s nothing to do with politics or principle or Victor Emmanuel or any of that. It’s fear! Stark, unreasoning terror. 

NINO

Of what?

VERDI

When I was about your age, these hands, these arms carried to her grave a daughter who had barely begun to speak. Later her brother, even younger. And then their poor, grieving mother. How I adored her! But not even she was spared!

NINO

I’m sorry.

VERDI

Do you know what it means to lose everything that makes life precious? To stare helplessly, again and again and again, into the face of death? The pain of it nearly killed me. I’m afraid that next time it would.

NINO

But why should there be a next time? 

VERDI

Why was there a first time? It’s cruel and arbitrary and makes no sense and never will.

NINO

I don’t understand. If it makes no sense, what’s there to be afraid of?

VERDI

Everything. Loss. Punishment.

NINO

But you already live together. Would being married make all that much difference? 

VERDI

To a reasonable man with a sound mind, probably not. If only I were! If only I had your courage. Or Peppina’s. Remember what I said about a safe remove, staying aloof? The way we live now has costs of its own, but to marry again is asking for punishment.

NINO

Maestro, forgive me for saying so, but I think your safe remove is an illusion. The costs you speak of are mostly paid by her.

VERDI

(Taking his time.)   True.

NINO

Besides, all the punishments were administered this afternoon. Now the doors are open, and the prisoners are free to go home. So do.

VERDI

You know something, young man? You’re much too clever for your own good. What will you do now?

NINO

What I should have done earlier. I’m going to Genoa to enlist with Garibaldi.

VERDI

Oh, Nino.

NINO

I learned something about myself today, Maestro. I talk about love of humanity, and I feel it, too, but there’s still a lot of violence in my nature. And a lot of rage. The combination should make me an ideal recruit.

VERDI

When are you going?

NINO

Tomorrow morning. Don’t tell Tessa I’ve gone for a soldier. She’ll worry. Tell her the fiddler sent me to America.  

VERDI

Will you carry something to Genoa for me?

NINO

What is it?

VERDI

This box. Bagasset returned it in good time. Take it to Angelo Corsaro in the Via Minghelli and tell him to furnish you with as many rifles as this medallion is worth. It should be a good number.

NINO

A fine contribution, Maestro, but it may not be necessary.

VERDI

Why not?

NINO

You see, I’ve always had this dream that one day I’m at the site of a great pitched battle, and just before it begins, I leap out into the field between the armies and I start to sing. And I sing with such a power of fascination that the soldiers and commanders all fall silent and listen, and then applaud, and scream for more, and finally throw down their arms and make peace. Now, I may actually get to try it.

VERDI

Superb, Nino.  But buy the rifles, just in case.

TESSA (emerging from the hallway)

What rifles? What rifles?

NINO

Tessa, I’m going away.  To Genoa.

TESSA

I’m going with you.

NINO

No, Tessa.  I’m joining Garibaldi’s volunteers.

TESSA

What for?

NINO

Well, to train and exercise, and then to go wherever he leads us.

TESSA

To fight?

NINO

Of course.

TESSA

Maestro, don’t allow it.

VERDI

You think I could stop him?

TESSA

You must.  He’ll be killed.

NINO

Tessa, that’s not very encouraging.

TESSA

How can you take it so lightly?  I won’t let you go and die!

NINO

You see, this is what comes of Ivanhoe.

TESSA

Don’t laugh at me, Nino.  You’ve started to change my life, and now you think you can just drop me and go off on some brave adventure before we’ve half begun?

NINO

Maestro, I’ve left my gear with Fiddle and I’ve got to retrieve it.

TESSA

Did you hear what I said, Nino?  Don’t you owe me something?

NINO

Tessa, you’re a fine girl. A fine woman, and I love you dearly. But there’s all kinds of love in this world, and I feel every one. The love that drew me to you isn’t uppermost in my mind right now. I’m sorry.

TESSA

What about your heart?

NINO

Don’t make it more difficult, Tessa, please.

TESSA

You don’t love me at all.  If you did, you’d stay with me, or let me go with you.

NINO

Oh God, Tessa, I do love you. I’d be happy for us to stay together and have good times, but I owe myself more than that. I owe life more than that. And Italy.

TESSA

What about me?  What do you owe me?

NINO

Good night, Tessa. Good night, Maestro. Goodbye.

TESSA (clinging to him)

No. You’re not going anywhere.

NINO

Oh my God, will you let me go?  Let me go, Tessa.

TESSA

Nino, please stay with me.  I beg you to stay.

NINO

No, Tessa, I can’t. Maestro, help me. Please!

VERDI 

Let go of him, Tessa. Tessa, listen to me.   (At last he has no choice but to cross and wrench her away.)

 TESSA

No!  No!

NINO

Oh, don’t cry, Tessa, please. Be strong, and keep a shine in your eye. And don’t give up your lessons, that’s the main thing. It won’t be so hard. I’m an easy man to remember.

Do not forget, do not forget our love,

Farewell, Leonor–    (His voice breaks and he runs out.)

TESSA

Nino!  Oh no, oh no!

VERDI

Calm yourself, Tessa, please try.

TESSA

Oh, Maestro, no one ever said that to me before.

VERDI

Said what?

TESSA

That he loved me. And now I’ll never see him again.

VERDI

That’s not true, my dear.

TESSA

It is true! I know it, I saw it in his eyes. I wish I could die!

VERDI

Hush, Tessa, please. Think of the household.

TESSA

What do you care for the household? You’re a man; honor and pride are all you’re fit for! Oh, forgive me, Maestro, I didn’t know what I was saying.

VERDI

It’s all right, Tessa.

TESSA

What will I do?  What will I do?

VERDI

What Nino said.  “Be strong, and keep a shine in your eye.”

TESSA

I’ll never see him again.  I can’t believe it.

VERDI

Try to sleep, Tessa.  Everything will look better in the morning light.

TESSA

Oh, Maestro, why is life so hard?

VERDI

I don’t know, my dear.  Maybe it’s all a big school.  With lessons for everyone.  Come now.

He escorts her down the hall.  Peppina, light in hand, enters in her dressing gown, her luxuriant hair flowing, and stands in the doorway. Verdi returns and they stare at each other from across the room.

PEPPINA

I heard a lot of noise.

VERDI

There was a scene. It’s over now.

PEPPINA

Everything under control again?

VERDI

Everything.

PEPPINA

That’s a mercy. I’m going back to bed, then.

VERDI

All right.

PEPPINA

And you, Verdi?

VERDI

No, I want to sit up for a while. I have to do some thinking.

PEPPINA

Do you?

VERDI

I do. No…I don’t.

PEPPINA

Equivocating, I see.  Well, good night.

VERDI

Wait.  Peppina...Peppina...marry me.

She bursts out laughing and sinks into a chair.

PEPPINA

Why?

VERDI

Because I want you to.  Because I love you.

PEPPINA

Of course, but why now?

VERDI

Because my eyes are open. Because I’ve been a coward and a fool. Because I can serve you and my country and myself all at the same time.

PEPPINA

A convergence!

VERDI

So it seems.

PEPPINA

Amen to that.

VERDI

I’m ready any time you like.

PEPPINA

Just a moment, please.  I haven’t accepted you.

VERDI

Excuse me?

PEPPINA

You’d better listen to my conditions first.

VERDI

Conditions is it?

PEPPINA

Yes, one in general and two in particular.

VERDI

Well, name them quickly before I withdraw my offer.

PEPPINA

What I want in general is to remain as we have always been, and, in becoming your true wife, not to become your dependent.

VERDI

I agree, in general.

PEPPINA

Excellent.  The particulars are these:  I shall continue to select and pay for my own clothes.  I shall continue to contribute to my own charities.

VERDI

Agreed, in both points.

PEPPINA

Fine.  And there is a third condition, which has nothing to do with money.

VERDI

There is?

PEPPINA

There is.  You will write to your agent in London to have him locate that new strain of corn, and send us a box of the seed to plant here next spring.

VERDI

Oh yes.  Very fully agreed.

PEPPINA

Well then, have you any conditions?

VERDI

I’m sure I can think of a few.  No, I can’t.

PEPPINA

In that case...what was the question again?

VERDI (kneeling)

Will you marry me?

PEPPINA

That’s right.  Yes, Verdi.  I will.

VERDI

Thank you.

PEPPINA

Thank you.   (She laughs again.  he joins her, and they embrace.)

VERDI

Peppina, Peppina!  Let it be soon.

PEPPINA

As soon as possible, wizard.

VERDI

Let me look at you, woman. Your hair is so beautiful in the firelight. Your eyes are so clear.  You are life itself.

PEPPINA (moving away)

It’s nearly one o’clock, Verdi.  Time for sleep.

VERDI

“Signorina Strepponi...”

PEPPINA

What--?

VERDI

Please assist me in remembering an ancient conversation.

PEPPINA

How ancient?

VERDI

Older than time itself:  Signorina Strepponi, my friends in Milan advised me to call upon you as soon as I arrived here.

PEPPINA

I am glad, Signor.  They knew that you would be a welcome guest in my home.

VERDI

Since Paris is so strange to me, and so familiar to you, and since my French is even worse than my manners, I have dared to hope that you might consent, as a fellow Italian, to act as my guide here in whatever time you could afford to spare.

PEPPINA

You honor me, Signor Verdi.  Where would you like to go?

VERDI

I should like to see the Cathedral of Notre Dame.  And also Napoleon’s Arch of Triumph.

PEPPINA

Signor Verdi, it would make me equally happy to introduce you to those of my Parisian friends whose warmth of heart and nobility of character recommend them ideally to your acquaintance.

VERDI

If you will forgive my boldness, dear Signorina, when I am with you, there is no one else I care to see.

PEPPINA

Boldness for boldness, dear Signor, when I am with you, there is no one else.

They kiss and move together towards the bedroom.  At the door, Peppina stops.

Wait, Verdi.

Crossing back to the table, she extinguishes the lamp.

SLOW CURTAIN

Intermezzo: the love duet, Un Ballo In Maschera, actii, (the tenderest clip)

Scene Two.  The drawing room, two days later.  Sunlight pours through the windows and the open doors on a glorious morning.  Verdi’s coat is folded over a chair.  The room is filled with flowers.  Tessa is arranging some in a porcelain vase.  Barezzi enters, with a nosegay of white bud roses in his hand.

BAREZZI

Good morning, Tessa.

TESSA

Good morning, Signor Barezzi.

BAREZZI

Is Verdi about?

TESSA

Out there.

BAREZZI

On his wedding day?

TESSA

Oh, not in the fields. He’s been cutting flowers all morning.

BAREZZI

So I see. Well, I’ve brought him his railway tickets. Would you tell him I’m here?

TESSA

Signor, you see I am occupied. Please remember you are speaking to one of the proletariat.

BAREZZI

Oh, God! Where is the Signora?

TESSA

In her room. Madamazel Fanny is helping her to dress.

BAREZZI

Then I’ll just have to wait.

TESSA

Please make yourself comfortable.

BAREZZI

Tessa, if I may interrupt your labors, can you pronounce the name of this town they’re going to?

TESSA

No, Signor. I don’t even know where it is.

BAREZZI

Up near the Swiss border. I don’t see why they couldn’t be married in Busseto, like normal people.

TESSA

Don’t you think it would be difficult for them to conduct a private ceremony here, Signor?

BAREZZI

After twelve years of public flagrancy, their desire for a private wedding seems perverse to me.  But my views belong to another time, and they must pass, I suppose.

VERDI

(Entering in shirtsleeves, and with flowers)   What must pass, Babbo?

BAREZZI

Ah, good morning, Verdi. My views on life.

VERDI

No matter, let ‘em go. It’s your deeds that survive, anyway. Tessa, would you take these in to my bride-to-be?

TESSA

Oh yes, Maestro.   (She does.)

BAREZZI

Here are the tickets for your journey. How do you pronounce that name? 

VERDI

Collonges-sous-Saleve.

BAREZZI

Yes. I had the devil of a time at the railway office. Parma would have been simpler.

VERDI

Peppina knows a priest at Collonges whom she holds in high regard.

BAREZZI

What will you do for witnesses?

VERDI

I hadn’t thought of it. Well, we’ll have to hire a carriage from the station to the church, perhaps the driver will oblige us. That’s one.

BAREZZI

Oh, Verdi!  This is absurd.

VERDI

Utterly, Babbo, utterly. “We that are true lovers run into strange capers.”

BAREZZI

What?

VERDI

Shakespeare, Babbo. As You Like It.

BAREZZI

I cannot understand you at all today. When will you be back?

VERDI

I don’t know. After a few days’ holiday in Geneva.

BAREZZI

Busseto goes to the polls in eight days, remember.

VERDI

I’ll be back in time to cast my vote.

BAREZZI

Yes, but what about --

VERDI

I will not make any speeches, Babbo. It’s my name they’re after and that’s all they’ll get.

BAREZZI

Your election is a certainty. You have no opponent.

VERDI

I suppose that helps.

BAREZZI

Some day soon you’ll have a free Italy’s gratitude. For now, more than ever, you have mine.

VERDI

Thank you, Babbo. I’ve known all sorts of men, but never a better one than you.

FANNY (entering from the bedroom)

Ah, Maestro the groom! May I give you the kiss for good luck?

VERDI (donning his coat)

Certainly, Fanny.

FANNY

You, too, Monsieur!

BAREZZI

Thank you, Mademoiselle!

FANNY

Oh, I am so happy today, I could kiss the whole world! If only I didn’t have to take that wicked train to Paris this morning. When is your train, Maestro?

VERDI

Not till noon.

FANNY

How foolish seems the railroad today. What train can fly as fast as a lover’s heart?

VERDI

Is Peppina ready?

FANNY

Yes, she is just saying her “Ave Maria.” And what an exquisite gown! I shall have the copy made for Act Two of my next Traviata.

BAREZZI

Where did it come from, Verdi?

VERDI

Milan. The dressmakers haven’t slept in two days.

FANNY

I can well believe it.

Peppina enters, radiant in a gown of pale blue linen, trimmed with ivory silk cord.

PEPPINA

Under the circumstances, I thought it advisable not to wear white.   (Off:)   Don’t forget my gloves, Tessa.

VERDI

You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen.

BAREZZI

Lovely, my dear.

PEPPINA

Verdi, look at these flowers! Did you cut them all this morning?

VERDI

Not a one. They jumped into my arms, begging to stand in the presence of Giuseppina Strepponi Verdi.

PEPPINA

Well, now they shall jump into mine. How wonderful to live with growing things!

TESSA

(Entering with long, white gloves)   Here they are, Signora.

VERDI

Let me help you with them. What’s this?  “G.S.V.” Who did such fine embroidery in two days?

PEPPINA

Actually, I must confess that I’ve had them for a year and a half. I knew they would prove handy some day.

VERDI

Peppina, you are the true wizard in this house.

FANNY

I’m afraid I must be off to the station.

PEPPINA

Oh, Fanny, if only you could be with us today.

FANNY

Another time, my dear. That is, well, you shall both visit me in Paris, cher Monsieur et Madame Verdi.

PEPPINA

Tessa, see that Luigi is ready with the carriage.

TESSA

Yes, Signora.   (Exit.)

FANNY

Darling Peppina, many happy returns. To me, you will always be the First Lady of the Theatre. Monsieur Barezzi, I will see you again?

BAREZZI

I hope so, Mademoiselle.

VERDI

Let me see you to the door, Fanny.  With my wife’s permission.

PEPPINA

Granted.

FANNY

Oh, Peppina, listen to this!   (She executes a dazzling coloratura run.)   You hear? No scratch!   (Laughing gaily, she exits with Verdi.)

BAREZZI (offering the nosegay)

My dear, may I give you these?

PEPPINA

Oh, thank you, Signor.  I will carry them on the train.

BAREZZI

I hope you will carry my good wishes, as well.

PEPPINA

Gladly.

BAREZZI

There is something that I must say to you. Not so long ago, you said we must despair of being friends, and, regrettably, I had given you reason to think so. It has been difficult for me to see you clearly these past years.

PEPPINA

The past is gone, Signor.

BAREZZI

Please let me finish. You have been obscured to me by the interference of a ghost, that of my daughter Ghita. His childhood sweetheart she was, and although she understood little of his genius, she loved him dearly, and in my mind she has somehow remained his wife, and you, an unseemly intruder upon her memory. No more. Today I see you without obstruction, and without envy: you will be, indeed you have been a better match for Verdi than Ghita could have begun to be. She gave him the sweet and innocent love of a child. Yours is that of a woman. An extraordinary woman.

PEPPINA

I thank you, Signor. With God’s grace I shall strive to be your daughter, too.

BAREZZI

Oh yes, Peppina, yes.  That you shall be.

Verdi returns to find them embracing.

VERDI

Oh, Babbo.

BAREZZI

Take her, Verdi, with my blessing.

PEPPINA

The sun is so bright today.  Come out of doors.

VERDI

Wait, my love. There’s a vow I need to make, with Babbo and you as witnesses. By the spirit of Nature, which helps me to husband the earth, and by the spirit of inspiration which wrings forth beauty from my soul, this truth I swear always to remember: That the deepest meaning in my existence comes from knowing the love of a woman like you, and a man like you. Without it, the world were chaos, and no fit home for humankind. But it is our home, for here we are, with the fields, and the sunlight, and the music. Come, Peppina, be my wife.

PEPPINA

Truly I will.  For a world of happy days.

Arm in arm, they walk into the garden as…

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

“If you want to tell people the truth, you’d better make them laugh or they’ll kill you.”

                                            ––G. B. Shaw

STATEMENT OF OBJECTIVES

In “Verdi’s Wife” I have attempted to evoke the nineteenth century by writing in a style suggestive of that era. This is true as regards not only the structure but the tone and the spoken idiom. As noted in the Character Breakdown, it can only be effectively played by actors to whom such idiom, whether formal or lower-class, is congenial. Such actors are often found in costume dramas from across the pond (witness “Masterpiece Theatre”), but not so easily here at home, where contemporary “naturalism” has to a great extent marginalized rhetorical flourish.

My goal for the optimal development of the play is to find, with the NPC’s help, a company of actors, and also a director, who can make “style” come alive. This is not a matter of contriving a British accent (which would in any case be pointless in a play about Italians). Far more important is a shared commitment to overcoming, through joy and humor, the coarse cynicism about the human species that pervades so much contemporary theater. I would hope that the community of artists who create the NPC can hear the beat of a more idealistic drum. With their help it will be possible to learn what in my text works and what doesn’t, and whether the experiment of welding elevated expression to dramatic urgency can speak to a modern audience as it did in former times.