And now sudden sorrow swept over the little family.  At the beginning of April one of the little boys fell ill.  Before the doctors could understand what was the matter, the little fellow breathed his last in the arms of his desperate mother.  A few days after this, the other child sickened and died.  In June the young wife, unable to bear the strain, passed away and Verdi saw the third coffin leave his door carrying the last of his dear ones.  And in the midst of these crushing trials he was expected to compose a comic opera!  But he bravely completed his task.  “Un Giorno di Regno” naturally proved a dead failure.  In the despondency that followed, the composer resolved to give up composition altogether.  Merelli scolded him roundly for such a decision, and promised if, some day, he chose to take up his pen again, he would, if given two months’ notice, produce any opera Verdi might write.

At that time the composer was not ready to change his mind.  He could not live longer in the house filled with so many sad memories, but moved to a new residence near the Corsia di Servi.  One evening on the street, he ran against Merelli, who was hurrying to the theater.  Without stopping he linked his arm in that of the composer and made him keep pace.  The manager was in the depths of woe.  He had secured a libretto by Solera, which was “wonderful, marvelous, extraordinary, grand,” but the composer he had engaged did not like it.  What was to be done?  Verdi bethought him of the libretto “Proscritto,” which Rossi had once written for him, and he had not used.  He suggested this to Merelli.  Rossi was at once sent for and produced a copy of the libretto.  Then Merelli laid the other manuscript before Verdi.  “Look, here is Solera’s libretto; such a beautiful subject!  Take it home and read it over.”  But Verdi refused.  “No, no, I am in no humor to read librettos.”

“It won’t hurt you to look at it,” urged Merelli, and thrust it into the coat pocket of the reluctant composer.

On reaching home, Verdi pulled the manuscript out and threw it on the writing table.  As he did so a stanza from the book caught his eye; it was almost a paraphrase from the Bible, which had been such a solace to him in his solitary life.  He began to read the story and was more and more enthralled by it, yet his resolution to write no more was not altered.  However, as the days passed there would be here a line written down, there a melody—­until at last, almost unconsciously the opera of “Nabucco” came into being.

The opera once finished, Verdi hastened to Merelli, and reminded him of his promise.  The impressario was quite honorable about it, but would not agree to bring the opera out until Easter, for the season of 1841-42, was already arranged.  Verdi refused to wait until Easter, as he knew the best singers would not then be available.  After many arguments and disputes, it was finally arranged that “Nabucco” should be put on, but without extra outlay for mounting.  At the end of February 1842, rehearsals began and on March ninth the first performance took place.