Verdi's Falstaff: A Conversation with Saul Lilienstein

This article is the fifth installment in a series of my conversations with Washington, D.C.-based opera scholar, Saul Lilienstein, about the Verdi operas scheduled for broadcast this season on WETA Classical’s Opera Matinee Saturday afternoon feature.  We’re delighted to hear Mr. Lilienstein’s insights into opera, many of which he has shared throughout the Washington, D.C. community through his involvement with professional arts organizations, universities and The Smithsonian. This conversation includes references to comments Mr. Lilienstein previously presented in his lecture series for Washington National Opera. 

Here, we discuss Verdi’s Falstaff, presented by the Metropolitan Opera as part of its Artist’s Choice series in a recorded 1964 performance, on Saturday, February 22, 2025 at 1:00 pm (ET) and broadcast on WETA Classical’s Opera Matinee. This vintage performance was conducted by Leonard Bernstein, and was selected by the Met’s Music Director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, as his choice for the Artist’s Choice series.  

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Linda Carducci:  Verdi’s final opera, Falstaff, is a comedy.  It’s based on the fictitious character of John Falstaff (drawn from an historical character) who appears in two Shakespeare plays: The Merry Wives of Windsor and Henry IV, Parts 1 and 2.  Even though Verdi wrote a comedic opera, Un giorno di regno, early in his career, the bulk of his operas are weighty dramas.  Is it surprising that Verdi chose comedy for what he must have known would be his last operatic work? 

Saul Lilienstein:  It’s not surprising because in many of his dramas you will find elements of comedy.  It can be a purely comedic scene, or comedic elements placed within sinister settings or surrounding someone’s misfortune.  Look at Un ballo in maschera, for example.  It’s a mixture of light and dark until the final scene that depicts the assassination of the Governor of Boston – and even there, the orchestra plays a light mazurka behind the action.  We find it also in the first scene of Verdi’s Rigoletto in which light music, dancing and flirting is set against a game of sexual politics and boasting before Monterone flings down that curse upon them.   

True, Verdi may have a stern persona and his operas are serious, but he enjoyed comedy and humor.  We see it in the affectionate letters he exchanged with Falstaff librettist Arrigo Boito as they were collaborating on this project, and the dry wit he sometimes used in response to comments about his work.  And he had great affection for the 17th-18th century tradition of commedia dell’arte, a traveling troupe of stock characters that performed various comedic skits. In fact, the character of Falstaff is similar to Pantalone from commedia dell’arte -- an older, wealthy, vain man, always seeking romantic relationships with young women and often the brunt of jokes.   

Importantly, though, Verdi was drawn to Falstaff because of his love of Shakespeare.  He had already written two operas on Shakespeare plays:  Macbeth and Otello, and seriously considered one on King Lear.  What would he have made of Lear?  Who knows?  But listen to King Philips’ lament in Act 3 of Verdi’s Don Carlo and we can imagine.  With Falstaff, Verdi and Boito adapted Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor, a tale of a vain, buffoonish knight, Sir John Falstaff, who lives off the money of other people.  He hatches a plan to seduce two married women, Alice Ford and Meg Page, so that he can satisfy his lust while luring away their husbands’ wealth.  But the women and their husbands become wise to his plan and concoct a scheme to trick and humiliate Falstaff.  Falstaff does indeed receive his comeuppance, although with good grace.  There’s also a tender subplot of two young lovers, Fenton and Nannetta, who eventually wed, despite Nannetta’s father’s objection, through a humorous scene of mistaken identity.  

According to legend, It was Queen Elizabeth I who suggested that Shakespeare write The Merry Wives of Windsor because she enjoyed the character of Falstaff in his plays Henry IV, Part 1 and 2, and wished to have a story about Falstaff in love. 

LC:  Let’s explore the genesis of the composition and Verdi’s collaboration with Boito.  Verdi was in his late 70s and uncertain whether he could complete another opera.  But he was enabled by Boito.  He persuaded Verdi to write Falstaff and gently pushed him along during the process.  Verdi responded with courtesy and enthusiasm to Boito and his libretto.  Quite a difference from Verdi’s relationship with his previous librettists, especially Francesco Maria Piave. 

SL:   You’ve got to feel sorry for Piave; his final products were valuable but Verdi prodded and criticized him, never treated him as an equal.  But Verdi’s and Boito’s collaboration and friendship, and Verdi’s respect for Boito, were key to this project.  In fact, Verdi wouldn’t have written Falstaff without Boito.  What Boito produced was one of the great librettos in opera.  Boito was a composer himself; he’s best known for his opera Mefistofele.  He also wrote the libretto to Verdi’s Otello and worked on the libretto revision to Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra.  Boito was 29 years younger than Verdi and was among a group of young composers who looked upon Verdi’s style as old-fashioned – in fact, before their collaboration, a young Boito disparaged Verdi in print, a slight for which Verdi held a grudge for a while.  But Verdi was impressed with Boito’s revisions to Simon Boccanegra, and two men become friends and respected collaborators.   

Boito knew that Verdi had longed to write a comedy.  After the wildly successful premiere of Otello  in 1887, Verdi had retired to his rural villa, living the life of a gentleman farmer. But Boito had other plans; he sparked the process by writing a draft libretto to Falstaff without Verdi’s knowledge and then encouraged Verdi, telling him he had a natural aptitude for comedy.  “There is only one way to end your career more splendidly that Otello, and that is to end it with Falstaff.” he told Verdi.  Despite initial hesitations, Verdi was delighted with Boito’s clever libretto.  He took to the project with enthusiasm and gusto, although with occasional pauses.  Verdi write to Boito, “What a joy to say to the public, ‘Here we are again!  Roll up the curtain.’ ” 

LC:  It's worth noting that in crafting the libretto, Boito also looked back at the Trecento, a 14^th collection of Italian stories, which itself had served as source material for The Merry Wives of Windsor.  So Boito’s Italian libretto of Falstaff has an old-fashioned tinge and meter.   

SL:  I think Boito had fun crafting a humorous libretto that included a couple of inside jokes.  For example, when Mistress Quickly deceitfully tells Falstaff that Alice Ford is sick with love for him, Quickly sings “Povera donna” (Poor woman) to describe Alice, which is a direct quote from Violetta in Verdi’s La Traviata when she reflects on her choice of pleasure as a single woman in a world of men.  And there’s a play on words in the final scene of Falstaff, as the women sing for the Lord (Domine) to absolve Falstaff, he responds with a plea to save his precious belly (addomine). 

LC:  The process of composing Falstaff took three years, with hesitations, and stops and starts for various reasons.  And all the while, Verdi was insistent that the project be held in strict secrecy.  From the start, and throughout the writing process, Verdi had bouts of uncertainty of whether his age might affect his ability to complete Falstaff.  "Now Boito has written me a lyric comedy quite unlike any other”, Verdi wrote, “but I don't know whether I'll be able to finish it."  That may have motivated him to insist that he and Boito work in complete secrecy, so as not to raise expectations.  They gave the project a working title of “Big Belly,” a reference to Falstaff’s large belly, of which he was proud.  Verdi was also distracted by travel and the grief at losing two friends.  

SL:  And remember, Verdi wasn’t writing this on commission for an opera house or publisher; he was writing it for himself so felt he could take time in working through it.  It was Boito, though, who kept things moving, meeting with Verdi in person and by letter, cajoling and encouraging him, gently prodding him to continue.  Yes, Verdi insisted on maintaining complete control over the production, from conducting to costuming to sets.  Even rehearsals were held secretly.  At the end of the three-year composing period, a pleased Verdi wrote to Ricordi in words paraphrased from Falstaff’s comments in the opera, “It is all finished!  Go, go, old John!  Go on your way for as long as you can, amusing rouge, forever true beneath the masks you wear at different times and places. Go, go on your way.  Farewell.”  You can’t help but think that with these words Verdi himself was bidding a poignant farewell to the opera stage and a masterful career.  I am tearful just thinking about this. 

LC:  The music of Falstaff, both orchestral and vocal, is different from other Verdi operas.  Even if you don’t know exactly why, you can’t help but notice that the structure is unlike others. 

SL:  Oh, yes, for a number of reasons.  First, things move very quickly.  It’s as if Verdi doesn’t have time or patience anymore to linger over long expressions or lengthy scenes.  He always appreciated brevity but even more so at this point in his life.  Second, there is an abundance of gorgeous and clever melodies and wonderful ensembles in Falstaff, sure, but each is concise and most arias are brief.  Each section is a melodic gem that transitions without end to the next moment.  And although the narrative drives the work, I think the orchestra in Falstaff is more important than in any of his other operas – not because it’s louder (it’s not) but because the orchestra serves as commentator on the action and often instigates the musical ideas.  We’ve already seen that tendency in Otello.   

Take, for example, Act 1, which opens with music governed by orchestra, not voice, which is unexpected for Verdi.  The scene at the Ford’s home, where the women and men gather at the Ford’s home to angrily plot their revenge against Falstaff for his fraudulent scheme, is a study in texture.  The quartet of women sings in 6/8 time, while the men simultaneously sing a duet in duple meter.  It’s a perfect way to depict the frenzy of the situation.  Against this mixture is the young Fenton, a tenor who sings of his love for Ford’s daughter, Nannetta.  He and Nannetta romantically sing in their own rhythm, a soft and graceful waltz like an embrace – young love as relived in the memory of a nearly-80-year-old composer.  Boito asked Verdi to set their words with music “as one sprinkles sugar on a cake”, and Verdi delivers.  Those sweet intervals alternate with the frenzy of the scheming adults.  We’ll hear the young lovers in more short declarations of love in Act 2, against a similar scene of frenzy when the women throw Falstaff into a laundry basket to hide him from the wrath of Ford.  Different textures represent different people, different expressions, different personalities. This technique is also perhaps a nod to Wagner’s Die Meistersinger; in both operas a group of high voices sing in triple meter against low voices in duple meter, while at center stage a tenor sings a song of love.  The difference is in time and space – Verdi’s thoughts and phrases in Falstaff are briefer than Wagner’s. 

The beginning of Act 3 finds Falstaff despondent at being made a fool of in his attempt to seduce Alice Ford.  He sits alone in the tavern, dripping wet from having been thrown in the river, lamenting life.  Mistress Quickly pretends to comfort him and brings him wine.  As he drinks, we can see and hear the warmth of the wine taking effect; Verdi slowly brings Falstaff back to life accompanied by delicious and gentle trilling from the woodwinds, tenderly repeated by violins until, finally, the entire orchestra bursts out in a life-affirming trill.   

And then there’s the glorious fugue of voices in the opera’s finale in which all of the characters come together with intricate textures to rejoice love and seek forgiveness for Falstaff by echoing  Falstaff’s final declaration that all the world’s merely a jest. 

LC:  I imagine that singers enjoying performing Falstaff.  There are many ensemble sets and it gives them a chance to use their comedic skills. 

SL:  Yes, performers find it challenging and fun.  Although Falstaff has never been one of Verdi’s most popular operas for audiences – there are no large scenic tableaux, no grand ensembles -- it’s a favorite for conductors to conduct.  First, they find the quick pace exciting and challenging, and second, they like to carefully craft the brief and fleeting little gems that Verdi sprinkled throughout so that the audience can enjoy and appreciate them within the context of the narrative.  This opera is really in their hands.  After its premiere at Milan’s La Scala in 1893, which Verdi conducted, it was quickly produced throughout Europe and in the U.S.  Then Falstaff fell out of circulation for a while.  But early 20^th century conductors, such as Arturo Toscanini, Gustav Mahler and Sir Thomas Beecham, greatly admired and promoted Falstaff.  

LC:  As in many comedies, though, there are moments of seriousness and sentimentality in Falstaff, starting with the character himself.  He’s portrayed in the play and opera as an off-putting buffoon, confident in his cleverness to trick and deceive people.  But we feel sympathy for him at pivotal moments.  And we also glimpse the gentle, yearning love between Fenton and Nannetta.  How did Verdi incorporate these elements in the comedy? 

SL:  Verdi writes with compassion for the character of Falstaff, I think because Verdi at that point understood the experience of being an older man feeling the sentiment and heartbreak of the passage of time and a young world emerging.  The character of Falstaff is poised between delicacy, vulnerability and debauchery.  We hear it in Act 1 when Falstaff first visits Alice Ford -- he tries to seduce her by assuring her of his past accomplishments and nimble youth, trying to prove that he was once desirable. There’s a sense of sadness in seeing the elderly, portly knight trying to endear himself with tales of past glory.   

And later in Act 3, when the Fords and other characters, disguised as fairies in a haunted forest, continue to humiliate Falstaff by trickery and taunting him with sticks, Boito gave Verdi a bunch of onomopeic words to have fun with in this scene:  pizzica, stuzzica, pungi, spilluzzica . . .   We can’t help but feel for the poor soul.  But when the jokes ends, Falstaff takes the teasing with good humor and is proud of being the brunt of the joke: "It is I, not only witty myself but the cause of wit in other men."  He concludes by paraphrasing a famous quote from Shakespeare’s As You Like It:  “Tutto nel mondo è burla.  Ma ride ben chi ride La risata final.” (All in the world is a jest.  But he laughs well who has the final laugh.) 

The relationship between young lovers Fenton and Nannetta is given its own special treatment.  They never sing a love duet – their love for each other is proclaimed separately and tenderly.  Verdi wrote their music in flat keys, which are typically softer, and they’re accompanied by gentle clarinet, oboe and bassoon and soft French horn.  Fenton and Nannetta are the only characters to whom Verdi gives full arias, and that doesn’t happen until near the ending.  Before that, they are portrayed by sweet phrases no longer than a gentle caress.  Each of their arias in the final Act ends not with a definitive stop but instead with an uninterrupted transition to another segment of music, a device Verdi purposely used to keep the audience from applauding and stopping the narration.  Nannetta’s aria is particularly lovely.  It’s as if Verdi knew this would be his final aria, watching young love with a sentimental eye as he hands the opera stage over to young people in this, his final creation.  “Go, go, old John, on your way.” 

LC:  We’ve discussed in our previous episodes on Verdi whether and how Wagner may have influenced Verdi’s later-career operas.  But there are a few reminiscences of Mozart in Falstaff, such as the gorgeous reconciliation music in the finale of Falstaff that reminds us of the elegant and beautiful reconciliation scenes that grace some of the Mozart’s opera finales. 

SL:  Yes, the final scene of Act 3 is, I think, gorgeously beautiful and touching, reminiscent of Mozart not only in music but in plot.  While Falstaff is teased, ridiculed and taunted by the Fords and their group in Windsor Forest, lovers Fenton and Nannetta stand apart at moments to proclaim their love for each other in separate arias.  This is the first time in the entire opera that Verdi gives us full arias, and each is beautiful and heartfelt.  Here, Nannetta knows that the group’s treatment of Falstaff is a cruel game, and she knows that she is deceiving her father by disguising herself as an anonymous bride so that she may marry Fenton under cover, yet her music of love is sincere.  With that, we’re reminded of Act 1, Scene 1 of Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte, in which Fiordiligi and Dorabella, who have been tricked by Don Alfonso into believing that their lovers are going off to battle, bid a tearful and sincere farewell.  Sincerity within a scene of deceit.  It’s like a moment in life when we experience beauty and love so profoundly that there is no room for cynicism. 

LC:  Verdi had much to be proud of in his career, and his legacy remains strong.  With Falstaff, his final masterpiece, we can say “Go, Giuseppe, go on your way.  Farewell.” 

Hear Verdi’s Falstaff on WETA Classical’s Opera Matinee, Saturday, February 22, 2025 at 1:00 pm (ET).