Strakosch Italian Opera: Mignon

Plot synopsis.

Description of the music.

“As was anticipated Thomas’ beautiful opera proved last night the most successful event of the season. The Academy had its usual assemblage of beauty, wealth and fashion, and the applause was of a more enthusiastic character than on any preceding night of the season. The cast included the following artists [see above]. The music of the opera is exceedingly interesting, and the instrumentation, in particular, graceful, varied and always in accordance with the dramatic character of the scene. Unusual pains were taken by the management to present the opera complete in every detail, and the audience gazed with astonishment at the unwonted feature of new scenery and appointments. The opera was very handsomely mounted, and the scene in the third act representing the lake, park and theatre near the Baron’s castle, was worthy of one of our comedy theatres. The dresses, also, in this scene were very different from the dingy garments that generally adorn the chorus of the opera here. The roles of Mignon and Filine are almost of equal importance, one serving as a foil for the other. Mignon is sad, sympathetic and childlike, both in her love for her protector and her jealousy; Filine is the accomplished coquette and heartless flirt. In the first act, in the entrance and procession of the gypsies, a cart laden with the traps of these vagrants is drawn on the stage and in it Mignon is discovered asleep. Nilsson never made a more charming appearance than in the coarse garments and bare feet of the young girl stolen by the gypsies. From her first simple, touching prayer to the Holy Virgin, in gratitude for her escape from her brutal master, which leads into a lovely ensemble or sestet, with chorus, in the Donizetti style, down to the exquisite terzet in the last act, in which she recognizes her father and lover, Nilsson seemed the very personification of childlike innocence. The romance ‘Non conosco il bel suol,’ which gives a tinge of sadness to all the music of ‘Mignon,’ was sung in a plaintive, touching manner without any pronounced attempt to create an effect, which would have destroyed its simple beauty. This romance is beautifully worked into the instrumentation in the latter part of the opera, appearing at the most unexpected times, and each time in an attractive form. As we predicted yesterday the most popular number in ‘Mignon’s’ music proves to be the styrienne of the second act. The duet of the swallows, sung by Mlle. Nilsson and M. Jamet, was deliciously rendered, although a little slower tempo would have given the figure for the strings at the commencement of each bar more prominence. In the last act the great dramatic ability of Mlle. Nilsson was shown to its fullest extent. The gradual awakening of memory when she is in the home of her childhood, with her father and lover bending over her with tender solicitude, and her joy in recognizing them, made the scene one of intense interest.

Mlle. Duval must be congratulated upon having made her first success this season, and a brilliant one too. The rôle of Filine is an extremely difficult and fatiguing one, the music being almost entirely of the bravura order. Like the ‘Connais tu’ in Mignon’s music, Filine has a dashing polonaise which gives a bright color to the rôle. This polonaise is by no means easy of execution; but all its runs, roulades and trills were given by Mlle. Duval with an ease, accuracy and spirit that surprised all who had heard her previously in other rôles. The part seemed admirably suited for her engaging appearance and coquettish manner, and she certainly availed herself of the opportunity to make a decided hit. M. Capoul won his greatest triumph this season as the susceptible and tender-hearted Wilhelm Meister. He was in excellent voice, and the charming aria, ‘Addio! Mignon,’ and the passionate music of the last act received full justice at his hands. He seems to have made a special study of love making on the stage, and his studies have made him a perfect master of the subject. Jamet sang and acted the rôle of the wandering harper and bereaved father very successfully. The music of this rôle is characterized by the harp passages, which constantly appear in the instrumentation. In fact, there is a strong individuality about the music of all the rôles in this opera. A word of praise is due to M. Lyall, who made his first appearance this season. The rôle of Laerte did not call for much at his hands, but that little he did gracefully and satisfactorily. The chorus and orchestra must have undergone severe training, as both were unusually good as far as accord goes, but they still need drilling for the sake of expression. Altogether the production of ‘Mignon’ may be looked upon as an unqualified success.

It is not exactly fair that Mlle. Nilsson and M. Capoul should have to bear the weight of this season on their shoulders, without having one artist capable of relievIng them for a single night. The effect of this constant strain on an artist’s voice is well known, and many fine artists have been placed hors de combat by its means. Now there will be another season of opera given at the Academy of Music in the spring, and it would be an excellent thing for the management to secure such great artists as Miss Kellogg and Herr Wachtel to alternate with Nilsson and Capoul. The liberal patronage bestowed upon the opera by the public demands from the management such a complete company of first class talent as will preclude the possibility of a disappointment. One prima donna and one tenor cannot be considered as sufficient for an opera company.”

“An immense and brilliant audience welcomed the long-deferred production of ‘Mignon’ last night, at the Academy of Music. For once in this disappointing world, expectation and fulfillment were in harmony. We had, somehow, been led to expect in the opera, perhaps an interesting rôle for Miss Nilsson, but hardly a composition so fresh and charming on the whole. The music of the score is in the first two acts mainly vivacious and spirited, in the third almost entirely plaintive and tender. Its main fault is a certain deficiency in clear and distinctly-phrased and original melody, a fault somewhat exaggerated by the fact that the spoken text of the original French libretto is here converted into recitative, thus somewhat overbearing the arias and concerted music. As an offset to any defect in this regard, however, the music is, throughout, highly artistic in construction, graceful, sparkling or pathetic, as the feeling of the moment may require, exquisite in orchestration, and with a delicate and subtle correspondence between the music and the sentiment to be conveyed which is an excellent trait of the better modern school. It would be too much to ask that it should never remind us of old favorites. Thus, in the lively and joyous tone of the opening scenes an irrepressible sense will catch little strains and far-off bursts, as if were, suggestive of Cimarosa and the older Italian buffo music. In Filina’s charming air, ‘Io son Titania bionda’ there occur a few phrases of very Offenbach-like savor, and Mignon’s last air, ‘Potes io tornare,’ will to many recall suggestions of Gounod. It would exceed our limits to recount in detail all the charming numbers which won the delighted applause of the audience last evening. To our own thinking, the ‘Leggiadre rondinelle’ of the first act, sung by Nilsson and Jamet as only two such artists can sing it, was, in its exquisite and imaginative pathos, the gem of the evening, and the auditory were clearly of our opinion. Hardly less charming were Mignon’s air, ‘Non conosci quel suolo,’ (the famous ‘Knowest thou the land’) of the story. The ‘Titania’ air of Filina, the opening scena of the second act, Federico’s rondo-gavotte, ‘In veder l’amata stanza,’ and Mignon’s fantastic scena, ‘Io mi trovo piu vezzosa,’ are brilliant instances of the author’s skill in humorous, fantastic or bravura composition. The exquisite tenderness of Lotario’s air in the third act, ‘Di guel cor;’ of Guglielmo’s passionate outburst, ‘Rinascia nuova vita,’ and Mignon’s half-sung half-recited prayer, ‘O vergine Maria,’ show him not less powerful in touching our deeper feelings.

“The opera of ‘Mignon’ may be said to be founded indeed upon the favorite character of Goethe’s ‘Wilhelm Meister,’ yet the librettists M. M. Carré and Barbier, have taken little from the original story except the names of a few principal characters and a faint outline of one or two leading incidents. The work of the great German poet and philosopher would seem to offer no particular attractions to the maker of an opera book. Neither its plot nor any of its episodes can be called dramatic, the poetical beauty of Mignon is too fine for stage representation, and the sentiment of the story is too deep to be expressed in the theatrical action. Yet MM. Carré and Barbier have made an effective and graceful story, whose resemblance to the original, though not strong, is at least recognizable. It was Ary Scheffer, who showed them how to do it, just as he showed the same writers how to create a new Margaret for M. Gounod’s ‘Faust.’ It is Scheffer’s, not Gounod’s, Margaret whom we saw in the opera last Monday. It was Scheffer’s, not Goethe’s Mignon who was presented to us last night. Everybody knows the three scenes in which the artist has depicted the child-heroine; the pensive little figure of the bare-foot street-dancer, thinking of her native-country, singing perchance those exquisite verses, ‘Kennst Du das Land,’ the group wherein Mignon, stands at the knees of the old harper, and the tableau in which the girl with clasped hands and attitude of aspiration looks upward while the light of another life falls upon her face. It is upon these three pictures that the opera has been constructed. They do not show us, of course, the true Mignon, ‘daughter of enthusiasm, rapture, passion, and despair,’ but a wayward, yet graceful, sentimental, prematurely old child, developing into a tender woman. Goethe’s Mignon, so spiritual and yet so very human, so perverse and yet so loving, dies through the very intensity of her affection, and when she passes out of the pages of the book she leaves a void in the reader’s heart which none of the other personages can fill. The pathos of this ending is all missed in the opera, which finishes with the union of Mignon and Guglielmo, and the Harper’s recognition of his daughter; and though the exquisite art of the actress conveyed last night the idea that the hand of death had fallen upon the girl in her hour of happiness, this interpretation was not indicated—if indeed it was even justified—by the text. It is not worth while, however, to vex ourselves over the ruin of a poem which would not have suited Ambroise Thomas, nor perhaps any other writer for the lyric stage. Though the Mignon whom we have is not the mysterious ideal of the novelist, she is still a charming and loveable creation. Though the story is marred in some of its finest aspects, the plot is not a bad one, and at least may remind us of its poetical origin. The character of the old Harper, upon whom the librettists have bestowed the name of Laerte, given by Goethe to a very different person in the novel, is much better preserved than that of [illegible] and serves as an admirable foil to the delicacy of the young girl. The fascinating, lively, and heartless Pauline is hardly at all changed; and Wilhelm Meister, under the name of Guglielmo, loves, and wavers, and succumbs to the blandishments of the sex in the opera, as he does in the story. The page, Frederigi, and the actor Laerte appear in subordinate capacities, but display no individuality.

“The second representation of ‘Mignon’ tends to add clearness and precision to our earlier impressions, without modifying in any essential regard our judgment of the work as a whole. In melodic quality, the opera, naturally enough, gains on a second hearing. Airs and phrases which at first seemed vague, fragmentary or meaningless, stand out more distinct and and symmetrical, on the background of the harmony, and assume proper relation and significance. Prominent themes, such as the fundamental musical thought of the ‘Rondinelle,’ the ‘Titania’ and others, are recognized, not only in their separate importance, but as tingeing and inspiring the general tone of the composition. The general relation of the orchestration to the singing is more easily traced. The hearer learns with pleasure to appreciate the singular delicacy and light, fanciful, almost fantastic, yet sympathetic quality of the accompaniments, which never obstruct or swallow up the voices with heavy or strongly-colored harmonic masses, but weave their broidery of gossamer tones in fairy-like profusion, yet with exquisite modesty and refinement, about the main theme of the vocal score. Subtle hints and imaginative touches get clearer acknowledgment, such as, for instance, the little phrase of the ‘Rondinelle,’ hardly caught by a careless ear, which represents the dim but awakening sense of reminiscence in Mignon’s mind on the reappearance of Lotario later in the drama. Spite of a certain impalpable grace and charm in such morceaux as the ‘Conosci il Suol,’ ‘the Rondinelle,’ the ‘Titania,’ and Federico’s one air, and the like, we are still forced to admit that Mr. Thomas is not a great or forcible composer in melodic regards, even as compared with the somewhat time-worn and common-place merits of such men as Donizetti and Bellini. Strictly speaking, there is more of distinct and even enjoyable tune simply as such, in one act of ‘Sonnambula’ or ‘Norma,’ than in the whole of Thomas’s tone-poem; nor are we willing to allow that the evident and singable character of the airs should impair their popularity even with fastidious and thoughtful judges. But the great fault of these familiar writers, the lack of any depth of feeling and rich, dramatic and imaginative tone, in their music beyond its more evident expression of temporary or superficial emotion—the lack of thought in their work, in short—is amply made up in such compositions as ‘Mignon.’ Mr. Thomas, as judged by this work, is eminently an imaginative composer, not so much profound, perhaps, as sympathetic; though we are far from sure that he does not merit the weightier form of praise. As a dramatic poem, set to music, ‘Mignon’ seems to us an altogether delightful work, in which the judgment and higher aesthetic taste may take a keen satisfaction, apart from and above its more sensuous effect on the nerves or ears.

Misled by our interest in the music, we have left ourselves no space for the artists. Suffice it that we rank Miss Nilsson’s Mignon among her best creations. Not the pining, brooding enthusiast of Schaeffer, but the wayward, impulsive, passionate child of the Gypsy Camp, with the richer and nobler nature of the high-born woman breaking through, developed and brought to light by the chances and sorrow of her romantic story, as by the affection which forms its chief episode. M. Capoul is not in his element in the role of Guglielmo, and we miss the calm and even swell of voice and level delivery so enjoyable in his rendering of such parts as Elvino.

“The second representation of ‘Mignon’ at the Academy of Music, last evening, attracted an audience that filled the house. The impression which the elegant music and the picturesque story produced on the first hearing of both was much deepened by yesterday’s recital. From the uninterrupted attention bestowed upon the performance and the consequent appreciation of most of the beauties of Mr. Thomas’ score, we can safely prophesy that the opera will become popular to an extent not even the composer’s admirers dared expect. Before many weeks, ‘Conosci quel suol,’ the beautiful and touching air so finely delivered by Miss Nilsson, M. Capoul’s romance in the last act, and the splendid polacca will be familiar tunes, while the dance-music, which only sounds Offenbachian—and therefore inelegant—because the string forces of the orchestra ought to be doubled, will appear on all ball-room programmes of the Winter. Last night’s interpretation of ‘Mignon’ needs no detailed account. As on Wednesday, the singing of Miss Nilsson, so varied in its eloquence, and, throughout, so earnest and finished, with her capital acting, in which petulance and passion, sadness and fury, are expressed with a resource and a skill never equaled on the lyric stage of America, elicited repeated evidences of admiration. The vocalization of Mlle. Duval, whose pyrotechnic notes brighten the concerted pieces of the opera, and her execution of the polacca, also supplied an amount of pleasure shown by frequent and enthusiastic applause. To say that M. Capoul sings with sentiment, science, and taste, and that his whole performance is characterized by rare conscientiousness and talent is only to repeat words whereof the writing has been an imperative duty after each entertainment of the present season. M. Jamet’s embodiment of Lotario is worthy of the thoughtful and experienced artist his previous exertions disclosed. Mr. Lyall, who is fast recovering from his indisposition, acquitted himself yesterday very creditably of the difficult and thankless task set for Laerte. The pieces encored last evening were ‘Conosci quel suol,’ the ‘Duo delle rondinelle,’ the styrienne, the polonaise and M. Capoul’s last romance. But acknowledgments of the demands for repeats were in some instances conveyed to the audience by the not fatiguing means of bows. There were also calls before the curtain, and, in brief, all imaginable indications that ‘Mignon’ is not merely an acceptable novelty, but a work which must be henceforward a permanent part of the repertory.”