Incomplete And Utter History Of Classical Music

STEPHEN FRY'S

amp;UTTER HISTORY

Mmm. I think I'll sleep on that. Anyway, now to the music of 1871, and if it isn't Big Joe. Our man Green. Giuseppe Verdi was by now a very sprightly fifty-eight-year-old, and was loved by the Italians only a smidgeon less than Parmesan cheese. Anyone who could wander round virtually ANY Italian town and expect to see his name graffitied across the walls in virtually every backstreet piazza knows he has made it. To be fair, Verdi's name had become synonymous with the now successful nationalist movement, in part due to Verdi's own nationalist leanings and subsequent use of nationalist plots in his operas, but also, in part, down to a quirk of fate with his name.

The words 'Viva Verdi' were to be seen in backstreet piazzas because of a serendipitous piece of luck. The then incoming King of Italy was one Vittorio Emmanuel. As a result, the letters VERDI were used as an acronym of Victor Emmanuel, Re D'ltalia - or Victor Emmanuel, King Of Italy - and, in long form, Viva VERDI. In other words, Long Live Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy. It's an oft told but nevertheless beautiful bit of serendipity, one which wouldn't have worked half as well if Verdi had been either (a) not a nationalist or (b) a crap composer.

In 1871, though, Mr V received a very nice letter from the Khedive of Egypt. Khedive… I think it's some sort of root vegetable. Whatever. Anyway, he was writing to ask Verdi for a nice BIG opera to open up his nice BIG opera house, the brand new Cairo Opera. He'd like it nice and BIG, please, preferably hummably tuneful, and could he have it ready Thursday? Well, the way I see it, Verdi probably didn't want the gig. Cairo? I mean, it was miles away, and he was doing perfectly well here in Italy, thank you very much. Name in every back-street piazza, the works. So, Big Joe sends a letter back saying he'll gladly do the opera, but he would have to charge $20,000. $20,000! (that's in bold, you know?) $20,000.4 Just so's you know, that was in bold, italics too, and with an extra exclamation mark! Well, just think how much that was then. Absolutely STAGGERING amount of money, in those days. In these days, too, even. Anyway, much to his surprise, the Khedive (actually I think it might be a small canape or something) agrees the fee and stumps up the twenty grand. So, Verdi duly supplies the opera and the rest is his story, as it were.

Oddly enough, the opera had originally been conceived as a celebration of not just the brand-new 'Italian Opera' House, but by way of a general party for the opening of the Suez Canal, in 1869. It has an amazing lineage, commissioned, as it was, by an Egyptian Khedive (I think it's possibly, literally, a funnel-ended vessel), with a plot by a French Egyptologist, a libretto written, in French, by Camille de Lock, and then the whole thing translated into Italian by fellow librettist Antonio Ghislanzoni, and the odd 'crossing-out' by Mr Verdi himself. The whole thing was then shipped out to Egypt -composer not included - along with scenery and costumes, ordered from Paris, all to be then held up in the Siege of Paris.

Eventually, it was premiered, though, and it - Ai'da - became one of the most successful operas in history. Again, if you get a chance, go and see it live, because it really is worth it. Try one of those huge, popular productions, with a cast of thousands, performed in the round, at the Millennium Stadium, or somewhere like. It really is a fantastic spectacle.

Verdi himself refused to attend the premiere. Refused point blank. Said he didn't like all the glitz and glamour, and was not fond of sea travel: and besides, he couldn't do a thing with his hair. He did, however, receive a telegram from the Khedive (literally, a mollusc of the species Phylum mollusca) to say that Aida had gone down a storm. Fascinating, huh?

This was all happening around the same time that Wagner was preparing a Christmas present to his new wife, Cosima - the daughter of Franz Liszt and previous wife of his 'dear friend', Hans von Bulow. Prior to marriage, Wagner had been conducting an open affair with Cosima for some years/ As much by way of relief from his??? he rearranged as a love token some of the tunes from his opera, Siegfried, into a cute little piece called the Siegfried Idyll, and had it played to her outside her bedroom, with a bunch of musicians squeezed on to the landing. Awwww. Now that's what I call High Romantic, Volume 7! (Not a huge-selling album.) So that's that. Cosima has her Idyll, the Khedive had his opera. Actually, let me quickly look up the word 'khedive' while you wait. Key, khaki, khalifa, khamsin, khan khidmutgar. Mmm. No 'khedive'. Mm. Sorry, can't tell you what it means. I can tell you, however, that, according to my dictionary, a 'khilifat' is 'a caliphate'. Very useful.