ARRIGO BOITO presents the peculiar example of a musician high in distinction in his own country, with a fair measure of fame in other lands, who, though past the age of fifty years has thus far produced but a single work, his Mephistopheles. This work, having at first met with a sad repulse in Italy, recovered itself in a brilliant fashion some years afterwards, and has since run successfully on almost all the large stages of Europe. He is perhaps the only known example of a composer who owes his reputation to a single work, and the uniqueness of the case makes it worthy of mention. It is true that Arrigo Boito is poet as well as musician, that he is more productive as poet than as musician, and that his fame in his own country addresses itself perhaps even more to the writer than to the composer. Another peculiarity of Boito's is that, like Wagner, he claims that a musician cannot write a good score unless he has also conceived and executed the poem of his opera, and he puts this theory in practice by writing the words and the music of his Mephistopheles. But he has belied himself by outlining the librettos of half a score of operas, of which he has confided to other artists the task of composing the music; so that, between his principles and his conduct there is an evident contradiction.

Boito was born at Padua on the 24th of February, 1842. His father, who was a Venetian, was a distinguished painter. His mother, Polish by birth and education, was a woman of remarkable intellect, high birth and great culture. The eminently artistic conditions which surrounded his early childhood, and that of his elder brother Camillo, seemed to push them irresistibly towards the cultivation of the fine arts. Indeed, Camillo became an architect and distinguished art critic, whereas Arrigo devoted himself to letters and to music.

Arrigo was only eleven years of age when he was admitted, in 1853, to the Milan Conservatory, where he formed a very strong and fraternal attachment for one of his fellow-students, poor Franco Faccio, an artist of great promise, who became conductor of the orchestra at the Scala theatre, Milan, and who died insane, cut off in the full vigor of youth and the full maturity of his talent in less than a year after. Both had for their masters at the Conservatory, Ronchetti and Mazzucato, and both finished their studies in the same year, 1861. Boito had written the words of a "mystery" in one act, entitled le Sorelle d'Italia, for which he and his friend Faccio wrote the music, and this little work was performed according to custom, by the pupils of the Conservatory in one of the exercises at the close of the year. It was so well received by the special audience gathered to hear it that the minister of public instruction granted to each of the young composers a premium of 2,000 francs to enable them to study abroad for one year.

I believe that Boito then made a trip to France. At all events, he had returned to Italy in 1862, and was already proving his poetic talent by writing the verse of the Inno delle Nazioni, of which Verdi wrote the music, and which was performed at Her Majesty's Theatre, London, on the occasion of the opening of the Universal Exposition in that city. Soon afterward he again became poet collaborator, furnishing his friend Franco Faccio with the libretto of an opera entitled Amleto, which was given with some success at the Carlo Felice theatre, Genoa, in 1865, but which, given some years later, in 1871, at the Scala of Milan, suffered a signal and memorable defeat. In 1866, when Italy was at war with Austria, Boito, who is an ardent patriot, enlisted as a volunteer and served the campaign in the ranks of Garibaldi's army.

The 5th of March, 1868, was the important date in Arrigo Boito's artistic career; it was the date of the first performance, at the Scala theatre, Milan, of his Mephistopheles, an opera in five acts with prologue, the complete failure of which formed an epoch in the history of the theatre in Italy. He had already spent several years of labor on this important work, for which, as the title implies, he had been inspired by Goethe's Faust, and which he had counted on giving this title, when the unexpected appearance at the Scala of Gounod's Faust, and the success which it obtained there, came to cause him considerable disquietude, and obliged him, that he might not be accused of servile imitation, to modify the plan of his work, and to change even its title. He called it Mephistopheles, and proceeded with as much persistence as ever to have it performed at the theatre which had just seen Gounod's masterpiece applauded.

The fiasco of Mephistopheles was tremendous and rarely had a storm burst with such fury under the roof of the Scala. The author had given such free scope to his fancy both in the music and the poem, that the Milanese public was quite upset by his ultra romantic methods and indignant at a work which diverged so widely from the beaten track. Yet, although they cried out at the sacrilege and hissed furiously, those of the spectators whose minds were not warped by prejudice, recognized in this work, in spite of its faults, the breath of an intelligent, earnest and inspired artist. Here is what an Italian biographer of Boito says on the subject:

"Boito staged Goethe's poem with true spirit, making the Evil One his protagonist and giving to the drama an absolutely new form, even attempting to bring back the use of the Latin metres in his verses, an attempt which he was the first to make. The first performance of Mephistopheles at the Scala was a veritable battle, in which the work was sustained by passionate admirers and combatted by bitter adversaries. The composer, with rare intrepidity, directed the orchestra as if he were wholly oblivious of the uproar which surged about him. In short Mephistopheles fell, but in so doing left a lasting impression on the minds of the public. Perhaps its failure was chiefly due to the excessive length of certain episodes, and the little or no dramatic element in some places, as for instance the symphonic interlude between the fourth and fifth acts. But Boito was not discouraged, and he was right. Apart from a certain eccentricity which even the intelligent, unprejudiced public did not relish and which it wished to see disappear from the prologue of the libretto, his opera contained many real beauties. Boito had the rare virtue of submitting partially to the wishes of this public, and the patience to wait till his time should arrive: and it did arrive. In 1875, Mephistopheles was performed at Bologna and applauded there. In 1881, it reappeared at the Scala, reduced to four acts and considerably modified, and this time it was received with enthusiasm. The author was feted by numerous artists, critics and men of letters assembled at Milan on the occasion of the national Exposition, and from there his work began to make the tour of the theatres of the two worlds, being everywhere received with equal favor."

More productive as poet, I have already said, than as musician, it was in this capacity that Boito appeared before the public during the interval that elapsed between the first and second editions of his Mephistopheles. He first published a little humorous poem, Re Orso, which had great success. Then he soon set to work to write opera librettos for various composers. He wrote, by order of Mazzucato, director of the Milan Conservatory, the poem of a little opera in one act, un Tramonto, the music of which was written by a pupil of the establishment, Gaetano Coronaro, become since then second conductor at the Scala. This opera was written for representation on the little stage of the Conservatory at the closing exercises of the academic year. It was to this work, which was afterwards played at several Italian theatres, that Coronaro owed his diploma on leaving the Conservatory. A little later Boito wrote the libretto of la Falce for Alfredo Catalini, an opera which also appeared first at the Conservatory; then he gave to Amilcare Ponchielli the libretto of Gioconda, which was very successful in Italy and abroad. The subject of Gioconda he had borrowed from one of the most beautiful of Victor Hugo's dramas, Angelo tyran de Padone, but he had reduced it for the lyric stage with great skill, preserving the principal situations, and those best calculated to excite the inspiration of the composer. Boito signed these various works with the pseudonym Tobia Gorrio, which forms an anagram of his name, Arrigo Boito.

It was about this time that Boito wrote the words and the music of an opera entitled Ero e Leandro. The verses are exquisite, it is said, and worthy of a true poet, but the music did not satisfy him and he declined to make it known. He then confided the poem of Ero e Leandro to the celebrated double-bass player, Bottesini, who was also a distinguished composer, and the opera with the latter's music was performed in 1879 at the royal theatre of Turin. Boito had not entirely condemned his own score, however, and he embodied several fragments of it in his new edition of Mephistopheles, among others, the duet Lontano, lontano. He wrote librettos for other composers, particularly Alessandro Farnese and le Maschere, and he published a volume of poems, il Libro dei versi (Turin, Casanova, 1877,) which was very well received by the public, and parts of which deserve the honor of being included by Paolo Heyse in his Antologia dei poeti italiani.

Boito, whose ideas and principles are very advanced in music, as in literature, put himself at the head of the Wagnerian party in Italy. He was one of the most ardent in sustaining and spreading in his country the doctrines of the German master, being aided at Milan by the musical critic of the Perseveranza, Filippo Filippi, who died some years ago, and at Rome by Sgambati, a remarkable pianist and composer, and one of the most distinguished artists of his country. In order to accelerate as much as possible the movement which was manifesting itself in Italy in favor of Wagner, Boito did not hesitate to make a translation of his works. To him is due the Italian adaptation of Rienzi, performed at Turin in 1882, and that of Tristan and Isolde.

He had not given up, however, appearing again himself as a composer, and he had written the libretto of a lyric drama entitled Nerone, for which he also wished to compose the score. But at least ten years have slipped by since this work was first spoken of, the newspapers announcing each year that it is about ready for representation, and nothing has been seen of it yet. So the Italian critics make much sport of Boito and his long promised work. However, while waiting for Nerone to be finished, Boito has written for Verdi, who has a very deep affection for him, the librettos of two great works, one of them dramatic, the other comic, the subjects of which he has borrowed from Shakespeare. The first is Otello, which has been so successful for a number of years, and which Verdi did not hesitate to attempt after Rossini; the second is Falstaff, of which the master has finished the score, and which is to be performed in the near future at the Scala, Milan.

And this is where we find Boito to-day. But we would hardly know how to pass over one incident of his life which is greatly to his honor, and which suffices to show the deep and true brotherly affection which united him to his unhappy friend Franco Faccio. In 1890, when the death of Bottesini made it necessary to select a successor to this great artist as Director of the Conservatory at Parma, Verdi was extremely anxious that Boito should accept the office, which he persisted in declining. Then Franco Faccio was proposed and accepted. But Faccio, whose health had begun to fail, was, before he could go and take possession of his post, seized with a mental aberration at Graetz, where he had gone for rest. At the first news of the event, Boito left for Graetz, lavished upon his friend the most devoted care, and with some members of his family, took him back to Milan, then to Monza, where the unfortunate man died at the end of about eighteen months. Until the last they were hoping against hope for a recovery; but meantime the Parma Conservatory was without a director, a thing prejudicial to the labors and the studies of the pupils. At this juncture Boito generously volunteered to go to Parma as a substitute for his friend at the Conservatory until his health should permit him to fulfill its functions. He was named "honorary" director, as is stated in the following despatch addressed from Rome at that time by Dr. Giovanni Mariotti, syndic of Parma, to the Vice-director of the Conservatory of that city:—"Arrigo Boito, to whom, before all others, and on several occasions, Verdi has vainly offered the directorship of our Conservatory, consents to day, through a very noble sentiment, to become our director in place of his afflicted friend. Yesterday was signed the royal decree which names Boito honorary director of our Conservatory, confiding to him the supreme authority during the absence of the real director. He is a precious acquisition, of which Parma will, no doubt, be proud." Boito, indeed, went to Parma and assumed temporary charge of the Conservatory. Then, when poor Faccio died, he resigned the duties which he had accepted only as a service to his friend, and resumed the simple course of his private occupation and labors. Is it not very true that this fact does honor to Boito's character?

Boito is certainly a distinguished artist, but one who carries boldness almost to the point of temerity, and the desire to be original to the point of eccentricity; and this applies to the poet as well as to the musician. Thus his own countrymen find fault with certain daring peculiarities in his Mephistopheles, for instance, from a scenic point of view, his prologue with the chorus of angels, which has nothing to do with the subject; and from a poetic point of view, the use of odd and affected metres, as well as the use he makes from time to time of verse written in Milanese dialect, which has nothing to do with the true Italian language. As a musician also, he is criticised for having broken so radically with the ancient Italian melodic forms, without daring, however, to accept frankly the Wagnerian theories, but permitting whimsicalities and eccentricities which seem useless and appear only calculated to offend sensitive ears. Notwithstanding all that, he is very talented and remarkably clever. In a letter which Rossini wrote to Tito Ricordi, the famous music publisher of Milan, on the 21st of April, 1868, that is to say some weeks after the appearance and fall of Mephistopheles at the Scala theatre, I find these interesting lines: "I desire to be remembered to Boito, whose great talent I appreciate infinitely; he has sent me his libretto of Mephistopheles, by which I see that he is too precocious in desiring to be an innovator. Do not fancy that I would make war on innovators! I simply prefer that people should not claim to do in a day that which can only be accomplished in several years. Let the dear Giulio (Tito Ricordi's son, an excellent musician and composer) read benignly my first work, Demetrio e Polibio, and William Tell; he will see that I was not a crab! * * * * *" Rossini meant by this to indicate the artistic progress which he had made between his first and his last opera; he had gone steadily forward. Boito had wished to go too quickly, and had broken too openly with all the traditions. Hence the sad reception which the public gave to his Mephistopheles in its first form. Profiting by this warning of the public, Boito took his work in hand, modified it without destroying its character, by smoothing the rough places, made the desirable concessions and saw himself recompensed for his pains by a success as complete as had been its previous failure.

It is very difficult, however, to judge an artist and estimate fairly his talent on the strength of a single work. The score of Mephistopheles can only give an idea of the author's tendencies, only serve to indicate his temperament and his artistic nature. It is insufficient to permit of classifying him, and of fixing his place among contemporary composers. If Boito continues to preserve the obstinate silence which he has preserved now for quarter of a century, his fugitive dramatic passage can only be regarded as an accident in the musical history of this century. If he decides at length to shake off his idle inclination and break that silence by offering to the public that Nerone which has been so long talked about, and at which he works so slowly, perhaps it will be possible to form a rational opinion of his worth and of his personality. Until then, criticism will be very difficult and will run a great risk of going astray.