Verdi’s Sacred Music: The Requiem and the Four Sacred Pieces

​To anyone who has been paying attention in rehearsals during Verdi’s Stabat Mater, this piece has a lot in common with his Requiem, which also happens to have a lot in common with his operas in general...

Completed in 1897, the Stabat Mater was his final composition, and it shows a level of compositional complexity that is rarely seen in the bulk of his output, especially harmonically. This piece was published alongside three others as the Quattro Pezzi Sacri in 1898 but the four pieces are not connected in any other way. The other pieces are the Ave Maria for solo quartet or chorus a cappella, completed in 1889; the Laudi all Vergine Maria for four female voices a cappella, in 1888; and the Te Deum for double chorus and orchestra, in 1896. It is worth noting that besides Otello and Falstaff in 1887 and 1893, Verdi had not written any opera since Aida in 1871 and during his decades of retirement (the Requiem in 1874 notwithstanding), he did write some other sacred choral works and some chamber music, though nothing was on this scale. With the bulk of his operas coming in the mid-1840s through the 1860s, this was like another lifetime for Verdi, looking back at his own work, and his own life. Though we have no evidence for an external circumstance that led to the composition of this work, it is assumed the prolonged illness and death of his second wife Giuseppina may have played a role, if only on the basis of chronology.
 
Interestingly, we know Verdi took to studying Palestrina and Bach in his later years, in a sort of return to how his musical career in the church started. I think it is here we find why such dramatic and sudden contrasts exist in his Stabat Mater. Clearly the work of a composer of Italian opera, the extreme dynamic contrasts come from striving for a detailed interpretation of the text itself. Coupled with how much  chromaticism is used (in even the otherwise straightforward orchestral accompaniments, let alone the chorus), and the homophonic choral passages as on “Eja mater fons amoris” and “Juxta crucem tecum stare,” one could more easily make comparisons with Puccini and even Wagner, rather than Rossini, or any other Italian whose popularity had ultimately faded over the decades. However, anyone looking for longer “symphonic” developments, as might be expected with Brahms or Bruckner, will search this music in vain. And like Palestrina’s Stabat Mater, Verdi chooses to never repeat any text in his interpretation.
 
Before I go into any more about the Stabat Mater itself, let me take just a moment to give an overview of Verdi’s Requiem, which I believe impacts this work just as much as anything else. The Requiem was completed in 1874 but, unknown to many, the Libera Me movement was originally completed in 1869 (mostly the same as the finale of the Requiem) as a contribution to a joint project like none other: A Requiem for Rossini, in which each movement of the mass was contributed by a different Italian opera composer of that period. As it happens I wrote my Master’s thesis at Bard on this very subject, and let me tell you, it’s some wild stuff. If you think the Verdi Requiem was an excuse for a sacred opera, these disparate movements really take that to another level, and it goes to show what exactly Verdi thought when originally conceptualizing his Requiem, that there was some inherent Italian nationalism to the project. Now, it goes without saying that the Requiem itself is a top-tier masterwork. It and the Brahms Requiem are the two pillars on which the rest of late romantic sacred music is supported (I could make a case for the Bruckner Te Deum being a third pillar, but while thoroughly magnificent, its scope is just not comparable). The Requiem covers the full range of Italian tropes: solemn and emotive, rhythmic and intense, having bursts of dramatic dynamic ranges, and of course the minor 9th chords that I’ve pointed out in the Stabat Mater are also seen all over the Requiem. While there are no solo roles as in an opera, the solo quartet has its share of solo, duet, trio, and quartet moments, and the soprano is easily recognizable as the leading role. This also goes back to the Libera Me being written first, as it has an extensive soprano solo. The Libera Me also has the famous and thrilling Dies Irae that Verdi expanded into its own movement and used as a retuning theme in the Requiem, fully intact. Lastly, Verdi’s Requiem is much darker compared to the Brahms. A lot of Verdi’s music generally is; his first wife died at age 40 and both of their children died as infants. Like Mozart, Verdi’s sacred music reflects much more of his inner self than any of his operas even glimpse at. And that is where these two pillars reach their greatest heights: Verdi in hope in spite of darkness and disparity, and Brahms in hope through looking toward light and peace.
 
Now back to the Stabat Mater itself:
 
As stated, Verdi’s interpretation is rooted in a clear desire to convey the emotional weight and drama of the text, the story of Mary before Jesus on the Cross. It is telling a story, and as in the “Dies Irae” sequence in the Requiem, Verdi uses his full dynamic range and force to do so. If you haven’t read through the English translation, you should. There is a good one on our practice page . It is some of the saddest text in all of liturgy, and the weight and pain of this text is clearly translated in Verdi’s music. The music follows the journey of the text so closely, that the work as a whole is through-composed rather than having any recognizable classical form.
 
Its large sections are musically self-contained:
 

• First is the Passion story “Quae maerebat” through “dolentem cum Filio.” Already the music has modulated many times from the opening in G minor to C, then F to B♭, with many minor chromatic embellishments along the way. In fact, if you are looking for “home keys” in Verdi, his cadential sequences are so long, and his phrases often use so many chromatic notes, that it’s easier to look at where the music lands rather than where it starts.
• The second is built entirely on the theme he gives on “tui nati” through “tecum plangere.” Much more stable in G, then F, though sometimes minor and sometimes major, as seen in the alto soli.
• In between these, at the halfway point of the work, is the marvelous a cappella moment on “Eja Mater, fons amoris,” where the text changes from the Passion story in the third person to a prayer from Mary in the first person. The modulation to B major from what is otherwise a home key of G major underlines this radical change.
• The contrasts are further heightened by the despairing interjections like “Vidit Jesum in tormentis” and “crucifixi fige plagas,” and the final supplication, the plea, which starts on “Christe, dum sit hinc exire,” and concludes the work:

           
Christ, when thou shalt call me hence, be thy mother my defense, be thy cross my victory.
When my body here decays, may my soul thy goodness praise, safe in paradise with thee.
 
For how hopeful these last stanzas are, Verdi does not end on the glorious paradise of G major, instead, the final bars return to the opening theme, now low and somber in the orchestra, but without a leading note; leaving us without confirmation, and instead with a longing for it.
 
All of this, in addition to the use of full orchestra, with all of the hard brass and lush string sonorities we get in his Requiem and his operas, make Verdi’s Stabat Mater a real gem of romantic sacred choral music. It exemplifies the height of the composer’s musical output, and at the end of his life, is a sincere and emotional statement from a composer whose life was as dramatic as his music.