venerable,
moss-grown stone bridge, at the foot of which are a large park and
artificial lake. When he takes his evening walks, the peasantry, who are
devotedly attached to him, unite in singing choruses from his operas.

In Verdi's bedroom, where alone he composes, is a fine piano--of which
instrument, as well as of the violin, he is a master--a modest library,
and an oddly-shaped writing-desk. Pictures and statuettes, of which he
is very fond, are thickly strewn about the whole house. Verdi is a
man of vigor' ous and active habits, taking an ardent interest in
agriculture. But the larger part of his time is taken up in composing,
writing letters, and reading works on philosophy, politics, and history.
His personal appearance is very distinguished. A tall figure with sturdy
limbs and square shoulders, surmounted by a finely-shaped head; abundant
hair, beard, and mustache, whose black is sprinkled with gray; dark-gray
eyes, regular features, and an earnest, sometimes intense, expression
make him a noticeable-looking man. Much sought after in the brilliant
society of Florence, Rome, and Paris, our composer spends most of his
time in the elegant seclusion of home.

III.

Verdi is the most nervous, theatric, sensuous composer of the present
century. Measured by the highest standard, his style must be criticised
as often spasmodic, tawdry, and meretricious. He instinctively adopts
a bold and eccentric treatment of musical themes; and, though there are
always to be found stirring movements in his scores as well as in his
opera stories, he constantly offends refined taste by sensation and
violence.

With a redundancy of melody, too often of the cheap and shallow kind, he
rarely fails to please the masses of opera-goers, for his works enjoy
a popularity not shared at present by any other composer. In Verdi a
sudden blaze of song, brief spirited airs, duets, trios, etc., take
the place of the elaborate and beautiful music, chiseled into order and
symmetry, which characterizes most of the great composers of the past.
Energy of immediate impression is thus gained at the expense of that
deep, lingering power, full of the subtile side-lights and shadows of
suggestion, which is the crowning benison of great music. He stuns the
ear and captivates the senses, but does not subdue the soul.

Yet, despite the grievous faults of these operas, they blaze with gems,
and we catch here and there true swallow-flights of genius, that the