Frenchmen in the same degree, and is not given at all to Germans, to follow this straight course and find it blossoming with melody, the Italian genius plucks its flowers thus with ease. I am speaking of the genius of a Verdi, or a Rossini; for with Bellini and Donizetti the melody declares its independence and the drama languishes; the feminine element emancipates itself from the virile.
V
In the fine book of Camille Bellaigue, to whom no work of Verdi is unknown, will be found accurate and valuable information on the long series of operas which he wrote between the decisive moments of his career, the moments that mark the beginning of a fresh stage. I will say a word about the last stage, which corresponds to that triple harvest of glory, Aïda, Othello, Falstaff.
It has often been said that Verdi changed his manner under the influence of Wagner. Nothing could be more untrue. Verdi remained entirely himself. If he had deviated however little from the line of his own nature, he would have grown weak. And that certainly is not what happened. We ought to say that Verdi's own special genius, received from the impulsion of Wagner a fresh impetus on its own lines. It is right to give credit to Wagner for this, but it is not possible to say that in any of these three works there is the smallest Wagnerian touch or inflexion. "The hour was grave, even threatening," writes Camille Bellaigue, speaking of this renovation. "Lohengrin was about to cross the Alps and descend as a conqueror. Verdi armed himself for the defence
