New Italians

Paris recently had an opportunity to hear a new opera, Phaedre--book by D'Annunzio and music by the modernist composer, Pizetti. As a piece of dramatturgy the opera was voted dull. But the music was praised loudly as a lovely bit of classical and archaic beauty. The composer is above all things a scholar, who, working his way into new harmonic textures, gives himself, at the same time, to an ardent study of the music of antiquity. He is a great authority on the Greek modes, and uses them with vast skill and charm.

Pizetti is the philosopher of the new school of Italian composers. Italian musicians are becoming serious and profound. A new spirit has come over them. This is well illustrated by a spectacular disturbance which marked the opening of the Scala season two years ago.

It was the first operatic season at the famous theatre since the war. The opening was, of course, a most distinguished event. As a mode of celebrating it, no doubt, something new and special was announced. Toscannini was the director for the season, Toscannini, universally recognized as the world's greatest orchestra conductor, Toscannini, in Italy a very god. This prodigious musician is one of the radical innovators among contemporary Italian musicians. There are many old operatic customs that he does not like. For instance, in Italy, as here, audiences have the habits of coming in late, especially the swell folk.

The first night would witness the inauguration of the new idea. He issued notices that the doors would close at the first note and would not open again until the last note of the act had sounded.

Meanwhile other curious things had been occurring. Fascism was then a very small thing in Italy. Socialism was raising its voice with loud and often triumphant outcries. The socialist newspapers, noting the approaching opening of La Scala, were inspired with an idea. They printed large articles saying that in the past the boxes of the opera house had been occupied by the hated capitalists, but now a new state of things had arrived and no such anti-democratic thing would be tolerated. They demanded that the opera boxes be turned over to the proletariat. This agitation produced a result that sounds very American. There was a bomb scare. The " authorities grew excited with fancies of bomb-throwing in the opera house, when the revolutionaries saw that the capitalists still had the boxes. Precautions were necessary. The officials ordered a force of soldiers to the opera house to search all who entered, and further gave forth the regulation that no one might go into the auditorium with a cloak or coat, since such were adapted to conceal bombs. Every wrap must be checked at the cloak room.

The gala night came. The public, respectfully heeding the great maestro's command that no late comer be admitted, arrived in early crowds. They were greeted by a file of soldiers who lined the lobby and began searching everybody. The search went slowly and the crowd swelled before the theatre. The people who had been searched trooped back to check their cloaks. In the cloakroom stood the same single old fellow of yore. Nobody had thought of putting on extra help for the wholesale cloak checking. Between these two sources of delay only a few hundred people got into the auditorium. The crowd grew restive, as excitable Italian crowds will. Then two young soldiers straight from the provinces searched a beautiful lady in such fashion that she and her escort grew furious. A fight started, and the crowd got more excited. At this critical moment Toscannini, who pays attention to nothing save his orchestra score, walked down in front of the orchestra, raised his baton, and began the first notes of Verdi's Otello. Immediately, according to his orders, the doors of the auditorium swung shut, and were locked.

When the angry crowd outside saw themselves thus shut out, they broke into a riot, with wild yells of " Down with the management!'' The noise sounded in the auditorium, but Toscannini, growing furious, relentlessly continued the performance. Several score of workmen who had contrived to get into the gallery, heard and heeded the protesting yells of their comrades outside. They grew indignant, and joined the chorus of exterior chorus. " Down with the management!" the howl from the galleries drowned the music. But such was the respect inspired by Toscannini that the disturbers in the theatre amplified their cries. "Down with the management! " they shouted, " Ma evviva Toscannini! " The compliment, however, did not lessen the clamor. The enraged musician tried for a while to keep on with the performance, in spite of the din, but finally had to give it up and order the doors opened. The crowd poured in. The opera began again.