Strakosch Italian Opera: Lucia di Lammermoor

Event Information

Venue(s):
Academy of Music

Manager / Director:
Maurice Strakosch
Max Strakosch

Conductor(s):
Max Maretzek

Price: $2; $3 and 4, reserved seat; $1 family circle; $.50 extra, reserved seat; $5 box or front row of balcony

Event Type:
Opera

Record Information

Status:
Published

Last Updated:
18 October 2023

Performance Date(s) and Time(s)

23 Oct 1871, 8:00 PM
28 Oct 1871, 2:00 PM

Program Details

See related article on 10/25/71: Article on full dress at the opera, which is a response to the New York Herald review.

Performers and/or Works Performed

Lucia di Lammermoor

aka Lucy of Lammermoor

Composer(s): Donizetti

Text Author: Cammarano

Participants: Strakosch Italian Opera Company; Mme. [mezzo-soprano] Cooney (role: Alize); Pasquale Brignoli (role: Edgardo); Domenico Coletti (role: Raymond); J. [tenor] Reichardt (role: Arturo); Christine Nilsson (role: Lucia); Armand Barré (role: Ashton); [tenor] Lyall (role: Norman)

Citations

Announcement: New-York Times, 11 June 1871, 5.

Announces forthcoming season of Italian opera, to be managed by Max and Maurice Strakosch; lists artists engaged and partial repertory.

Article: New-York Times, 15 June 1871, 4.

Notes Max Strakosch’s departure for Europe to complete arrangements; provides testimony from London regarding the merits of the new tenor Capoul.

Announcement: New-York Times, 30 July 1871, 5.

Lists singers so far engaged by Strakosch for his forthcoming season.

Announcement: New-York Daily Tribune, 15 August 1871, 5.

Announcement: New York Clipper, 19 August 1871, 158.

Company's arrival in New York; names of members; itinerary.

Announcement: New-York Times, 25 August 1871, 5.

Notes Strakosch's engagement of eminent baritone Barre, of the Paris Opera Comique.

Advertisement: New York Herald, 04 September 1871, 2.

Announcing the comapany’s principal singers and repertory.

Announcement: New York Post, 04 September 1871, 4.

Lists company oster and season repertory.

Advertisement: New-York Times, 04 September 1871, 7.

"Season of twenty nights." Lists principal singers and repertory.

10)

Announcement: New-York Times, 04 September 1871, 4.

Notes that the Boston season will begin on October 9.

11)

Announcement: New York Herald, 01 October 1871, 7.

12)

Article: New York Herald, 04 October 1871, 5.

Christine Nilsson's reception on board the Swedish frigate, Josefine.

13)

Announcement: New York Sun, 04 October 1871, 3.

14)

Announcement: New York Herald, 21 October 1871, 7.

15)

Announcement: New York Sun, 23 October 1871, 2.

16)

Review: New York Herald, 24 October 1871, 3.

“The Academy was all ablaze last night with the crème de la crème of fashion and elegance. The boxes and circles were graced by the belles of the metropolis, and the chef d’oeuvres of the modiste’s art and full dress seemed to be to a great extent de rigeur. Regarding the subject of full dress, we are of opinion that it should be made at the opera a rule, and every lady and gentleman should observe it. When a lady takes off her bonnet she is considered to be in full dress, and the same is the case with a gentleman wearing a dress coat. This is the general acceptation of the term, and it is by no means difficult to dress a house in this fashion. The effect would be immeasurably better than is produced at present by an audience in this city. In European opera houses full dress is rigidly enforced, and we see no reason why the same should not be done here. [See program details for related content on "full dress."] The appearance of the house last evening was magnificent. The artist came to hear the new prima donna, the litterateur to gain materials for his next effusion, the Knickerbocker magnate because it was fashionable, the Wall Street broker because everyone else was there, and the oi polloi sat in the gallery dividing their attention between the stage and the brilliant scene beneath them. It was not an enthusiastic house, or at least their component parts had made up their minds to listen, chat and applaud decorously. Nothing short of genius could have roused to the extent of glove- splitting and hearty ‘bravos!’ It cannot be said now that Italian opera receives scanty encouragement in New York. A glance at that house was a sufficient answer to such an assertion.

‘Lucia di Lammermoor’ was the opening opera of the season. Since its first performance at Naples, thirty-seven years ago, its intense dramatic character and delicious melodies have made it a standard favorite on the operatic stage. The original cast consisted of Madame Persani and Signori Duprez, Porto and De Angeli, and the names of the most celebrated artists in Italian opera are associated with this lyric story of ‘The Bride of Lammermoor.’ For the heroine we have Frezzolini, Sontag, Jenny Lind, Catharine Hayes, Gazzaniga, Dolores Nau, and Adelina Patti, and the master of Ravenswood has been represented by Rubini, Mario, Salvi, Fraschini, Laborde and Sims Reeves. Although there is much that is nonsensical in the libretto and an excess of florid ornamentation weakens some of the music, yet there are a few scenes that for fervor and passion have never been excelled in opera. The cast last evening was the following [lists cast].

To Mlle. Nilsson is due the success of the entire opera. No better rôle could have been selected for her debut. From the moment that she came upon the stage, in the second scene of the first act, after the beautiful harp solo that precedes her first recitative and cavatina (this harp solo was played by a lady in the orchestra in a truly artistic manner, marred only by one of the strings being a half note out of tune), until the close of the mad scene, she held the audience spellbound. No one who has heard Nilsson in concert only can form an idea of her singing in opera. There is a rich glow of expression which lights up even the most commonplace numbers, and an earnestness that gives to every scene the appearance of reality. The duet, ‘Sulla Tomba,’ for soprano and tenor, which brings the first act to a brilliant close, drew from a naturally cold audience enthusiasm of the most unqualified kind. In this duet Brignoli astonished all by his unwonted fire and spirit, roused, undoubtedly, by the genius of the prima donna. In the second act the scene between Lucia and her brother, in which he shows her the forged letter that contains proofs of her lover’s perfidy, was rendered in a highly dramatic manner. In the broken recitative that expresses her despair Nilsson displayed her great power even more than in an aria, and the magnificent sestettino, the best concerted vocal piece that ever the composer wrote, was given with an effect rarely heard within the walls of the Academy. But in the mad scene she rose to a height of dramatic passion rarely attainable by prima donnas nowadays. Even the exuberance of florid vocalization that detracts from the spirit of the music became in her hands the means of adding to the effect of the scene. It was indeed a grand triumph for an artist, and we shall look for her appearance as Gretchen or Marguerite with much interest.

Brignoli never sang better in his life, and he rendered the closing aria, ‘Lu che a Dio spiegasti’ with his old fire and expression. ‘Fra poco,’ the aria of the opera, was not so successful, owing to the diapason normal or French pitch which is used by this company, and which lowered this aria to an unwarrantable extent. Barré, the new French baritone, has a pleasing voice, and it is under complete control. He is hardly the kind of artist, however, one would look for as the leading baritone of such a troupe, as there is an absence of fire and dramatic fervor in his singing. The secondary characters in the opera were represented by people who should not be permitted to sing in any opera company, as their voices and management of the same are conspicuously deficient in any quality that calls for commendation. The chorus, fully sixty strong, was the best that ever trod the stage of the opera house, and, although we recognized many of the old familiar faces among them, yet it is evident that particular pains have been taken to give them thorough rehearsals. The orchestra is also very large and complete, and it is a positive relief from the horrible [illegible] in this line of past seasons. Still, we would suggest to the conductor that noisy and ineffective as the instrumentation of this opera is in every scene except two, it is not advisable to give his orchestra loose rein and drown the voices of the singers, especially when the voice is the principal exponent of the situation.

It may be seen from this review that the management of the Nilsson Italian Opera Company has received the most flattering encouragement at the start, and we trust that he will not relax for a moment his exertions to make every detail in the production of each opera as perfect as possible. The company has a priceless gem in the prima donna and the tenors are entirely satisfactory. But the secondary people must be replaced by artists who can sing and act.”

17)

Review: New York Post, 24 October 1871, 2.

“The opening of the Nilsson season last night at the Academy was socially and artistically brilliant beyond record. Of Miss Nilsson we have spoken elsewhere in these columns. For the rest we can only note briefly that M. Barré is a pleasing but not a forcible singer; that Brignoli is as ponderously deliberate and as wheezily melodious as usual, and that Herr Reichhardt in his weakness, as Signor Coletti in his strength, were alike quite from the mark of music. Chorus and orchestra did well, and when the strong artists of the troupe are conjoined, as in ‘Faust’ to-morrow, we may expect such opera as shall make the walls of the Academy memorable and reverend with great associations in a single night.”

18)

Review: New York Sun, 24 October 1871, 2.

“At last the golden days of Italian opera have returned. At length we really hear Mlle. Nilsson; she has emerged from the pale, cold light of the concert room into the warmth and glow and lustre of the lyric stage. She has laid aside the trammels of formalism that hem in and confine the singer of arias, and assumed the freedom of the prima donna. [Illegible line] the great artist. At last she is in her true sphere, and was recognized at once by every one of the great audience that gathered to hear her last evening to be so.

It would be useless to enter into details as to the manner in which ‘Lucia di Lammermoor’ was given, or as to how this or that cavatina was sung. Suffice it to say, that so far as the prima donna was concerned, there seemed nothing left to be desired. There may be a better Lucia somewhere in the world, but if there is we have no desire to hear her. Mlle. Nilsson suffices.

Both in action and vocalism she seemed to do all that could be done. The series of pictures that she gave was sufficient to delight the eye, and every note was a pearl of purity— translucent, glowing, and of perfect beauty. The praise may seem extravagant, but the fact remains that such a prima donna has not been heard in this country since the days of Malibran. Her singing was more than good enough to atone for every deficiency in the minor parts.

Brignoli seemed inspired to unwonted excellence by the occasion, though, as usual, he was afraid to act, and in the first act rather hampered than aided Miss Nilsson. The new baritone, Mr. Barré, is a good and careful artist. Coletti sang neither better nor worse than he has this last hundred years, and, as for the chorus, though its diverse tartans proclaimed it of all the different clans of Scotland gathered into one band, it sang with fervor and unanimity, and was altogether a goodly body so far as numbers were concerned.

On the whole the representation was a superb one, and if our public fail to lend their support to so admirable a series of presentations as are now likely to be given, they will forfeit all claim to have Italian opera forevermore.”

19)

Review: New-York Times, 24 October 1871, 5.

“The influence of the genius of Scott was strikingly exemplified in New-York last night, when two of the greatest artists now living represented, one on the dramatic, the other on the operatic stage, two of his most famous heroines. The applause of foreign nations is said to be equivalent to the voice of posterity; and when we see the combined token of both in an Italian opera such as ‘Lucia,’ we are impressed with the solidity of the master’s fame. Here is the story of one of those matchless and poetic romances—those novels of the author of Waverley, which, as Alison says, made the poetry of Walter Scott to be forgotten —woven into a foreign tongue, and wedded to the silver music of the South, and accepted in that shape for years with an eager appreciation that shows the deep hold of the pathetic tale upon the universal heart. It is hard to think that such people as the Master of Ravenswood and Lucy Ashton were never real people. Do they not, in fact, seem as real to most of us as Mary, Queen of Scots, or Rizzio, or Darnley? And in a sense they are as real. They typify certain phases of sorrowing, hopeless love, of bitter despair, of the agony for which no cure on earth is to be permitted, and for which consolation comes only in the dim hereafter. Such phases are veritable as all who have lived and seen and suffered know, and thus as in all true art the unreal becomes real, and the imagined the true.

This was vividly shown at the Academy on the opening of the Italian opera to a close- packed and remarkably fashionable audience; for Mlle. Nilsson’s Lucia, in the first place, is to be placed at once in the rare and all too scanty list of stage performances that do not represent but realize. Poetic, exquisitely delicate, and graceful to the last degree, this is indeed a creature the Wizard of the North might have had in view when Lucy Ashton was first conceived. We thus convey an idea of the personal fitness of Mlle. Nilsson for her task. The adaptation is no less striking in this than in the vocal respect. To look Lucia and to sing it equally well is a felicitous achievement. To act it even better than either is an effort of genius. Of Mlle. Nilsson’s histrionic powers less has hitherto been known here than of her gifts as a vocalist. Glimpses she has given us and report is rich of what she has done elsewhere. It is, however, a pleasure to affirm even the strongest artistic credentials. Mlle. Nilsson’s impersonation, then, of the unhappy Bride of Lammermoor, is to our minds of almost unexampled excellence; and, after owning the evenness of that excellence in nearly all the performance, we should add that in the Mad Scene Mlle. Nilsson rises to a pathos and a grandeur infinitely touching and impressive. She was in superb voice on this occasion, and while accomplishing many notable feats of superb vocalization, the quality and purity of her organ were more noticeable that the agile fioriture frequently delivered by it. The Mad Scene, we repeat, was the finishing portion, the fitting and exceedingly beautiful climax of a performance of which it may be truly said just praise must infallibly read like hyperbole.

Signor Brignoli sang much of the music of Edgardo charmingly. It is idle to say that this favorite tenor’s dramatic capacities equal his vocal ones, or that both are not occasionally somewhat overtaxed by the trying scena of ‘Lucia’ which delineates its catastrophe. The ‘Malediction’ Signor Brignoli poured forth with considerable declamatory power and nearer approach to passion than has usually characterized him; the closing episode is, notwithstanding, beyond his means, as it is beyond those of most contemporary tenors, and the final impression left was, therefore, unsatisfactory. To say this is to say no new or unduly harsh thing. For where in truth are we now to look for an Edgardo? Now that Mario has retired, that the exquisite voice of Giuglini can be heard no more, and the impassioned tones of Salvi have become merely a memory, any approach to an ideal of the ill-fated Ravenswood seems out of the question; and remembering how much vocal superiority Signor Brignoli brings to his task, and, despite some inelegance less conspicuous than formerly, how notable a freedom from vulgarity, we feel that we should be grateful for the goods the gods provide, and thankful they are no worse. We always hear Signor Brignoli with pleasure, and rejoice to record that he was received last night with a cordiality not disproportioned to his merits. Signor Barre, who has a light baritone of good training and management, acquitted himself to general satisfaction, and was welcomed with heartiness on this the occasion of his first appearance. Signor Coletti was painstaking, so far as his resources would allow, and Signor Reichardt sang the strains he has so often essayed in Arturo with artistic delicacy, if not always with strict fidelity to the score. For the rest we may observe that the chorus, at least so far as male voices go, was good, and the orchestra was well up to the mark. The house was, as we have said, remarkable for numbers and fashion, and Mlle. Nilsson was repeatedly called for and lavishly complimented with flowers.”

20)

Review: New-York Daily Tribune, 24 October 1871, 4.

“Let us spare ourselves a description of the festival aspect of the Academy last night, when the great event toward which Art and Society have both looked forward with so much anxiety crowned expectation with rich fulfillment. It is enough to say that what ever New York could show of beauty and brightness was there to welcome Miss Nilsson. The radiance of jewels and sparkling eyes shed luster over the scene. Full dress fluttered in the boxes, and regiments of young men about town, interspersed with myriads of spare tenors and battered baritones, made an effective background for the glowing picture. Thus Italian Opera, dead, Sirs, a hundred times within the past five years—came to life once more with phenomenal vigor, and Mr. Maretzek, who has buried it so many times that he has become a sort of lyric undertaker, presided from the orchestra over a brighter musical resurrection than he has ever witnessed before. Lucia is said to be one of Miss Nilsson’s favorite roles, and we doubt not that in [illegible] two [illegible] it will rank among her strongest. And yet, judging from what we have seen and heard at her concerts, we question whether it was well chosen to show her best power or to give full play to the indescribable personal charm which, more than voice or action, is the secret of her success. It will be accounted rank heresy, we suppose, to say that the first act was rather disappointing, but we believe that is the exact truth. The entrance of Lucia was of course the signal for a best round of applause and a liberal offering of flowers. She came upon the stage in a quick, resolute way, thinking, apparently, more of the business of the part than the audience, the slender, graceful figure becomingly [illegible] and the deep eyes seeming to light up the cold, [illegible] face with the peculiar Northern beauty of which she has set her admirers raving. Her opening cavatina was given with much more intense action than [illegible] accustomed to see, for Lucia, in her conception, is not the simple, trustful, loving girl of the conventional prima donna, but a nervous, passionate, and, we should imagine, rather willful heroine—an uncomfortable sort of person to be in love with, but with a predisposition to insanity, which, if not pleasant, is appropriate. With the entrance of Edgardo she passes into a somewhat softer mood, and the latter part of the duet (‘Verrano a te sull’aura’) is thoroughly sweet, tender, and charming. The whole business of the second act is the wedding with Arturo, the return of the absent lover, and the despair of Lucia at the discovery of the fraud of which she has been made the victim. The alternations of anguish and melancholy in the first part of the act are admirably indicated [illegible] terrible scene of the close is superb. Here, when she tore off the wedding vail, threw herself at Arturo’s [illegible], grasped his hands, clung to him as to her last hope, and almost fought with him as he tried to tear himself away, one felt that the fierce consuming love which [illegible] in every look and gesture must turn to madness if it [illegible] defeated of its object. The effect upon the audience was electrical. It was impossible to mistake the demonstrations which followed; they were the marks of real enthusiasm. In the mad scene the action was perhaps [illegible] finer. An actress raving in white muslin is generally of the most ridiculous of objects; but the [illegible] of Nilsson’s Lucia is something awful, and, at the same time pathetic. There is no violence, no rant, no horrible grotesque fancy, but simply the mad melancholy of a bewildered [illegible] broken heart, bearing through all [distractions?] the memory of a great sorrow. There was something [illegible] and painful in the exquisite cadenza with the flute obbligato which occurs in the midst of this number, [illegible] of such beauty must be out of place in mournful company, and the closing melody, ‘Spargi d’amoro pianto,’ with which Lucia finally disappears from the scene, left an impression too deep to be soon forgotten.

Yet with all these dramatic triumphs, we doubt, as we have said already, whether ‘Lucia di Lammermoor’ shows the best that Nilsson can do. We saw no reason last night to modify the opinion we have heretofore expressed of her singing, abounding as it does in crude phrasing, extravagant contrasts, and defective intonations, nor was her voice often heard in the [illegible] and fineness for which it has been so justly [illegible]. Her success was that of an actress rather than [illegible]. But we must admit that after the first act it was success of the most pronounced kind.

The rest of the company must be dismissed for [to-day?] with brief mention. Brignoli exerted himself to [the?] utmost as Edgardo, and went through the trying scene with no little credit to himself and satisfied the audience. The new baritone, M. Barré, cannot be said to have made a profound impression in any [way?]. His voice is too light for the rôle of Ashton, and his [illegible] as an artist is evidently not of the highest. But it [illegible] funny to see him shake himself when he wants to [give?] emphasis to the music. The chorus numbers [illegible] and the orchestra the same.”