Strakosch Italian Opera:Roberto il diavolo

“It is a very singular and unaccountable circumstance in connection with the principal operas of Meyerbeer that each libretto seems to have been written as a pamphlet directed especially against the Church of Rome. ‘The Huguenots’ presents the massacre of St. Bartholomew in a most hideous form; ‘L’Africaine’ dilates upon the horrors of the Inquisition; ‘Le Prophete’ has a dart in store for the Catholic Church, and ‘Roberto Il Diavolo’ brings nuns from their tombs, at the bidding of Satan, to dance à la ‘Black Crook,’ around a Crusader. In other words, the librettos of Scribe, who has been the principal writer for Meyerbeer, are offensive in the highest degree, violating the very first principles of art. The opera of ‘Roberto il Diavolo,’ founded on a supremely ridiculous story, and only worthy of representation on account of the superb music, has never attained the popularity of the other works of the composer. Forty years ago it was introduced to the London public with the same cast as signalized its first representation in Paris. The artists were Madame Damaro, Madame Darons Gras, M. Nari and M. Levasseur. The last mentioned artist died a short time ago in Paris, and he was the original Bertram. In 1847, at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Jenny Lind appeared as Alice, Standigl as Bertram, Fraschini as Robert, Gardoni as Rambaldo and Cerito as Helena. In 1852, at Covent Garden, Giulia Grisi sang the rôle of Alice, Casetellan that of Isabella, Tamberlik that of Robert, Mario that of Rambaldo and Carl Formes that of Bertram. It is singular, but a fact, that in this combination only two artists carried the opera through successfully, and these were Tamberlik and Formes. In this country there were only four great casts in this opera. Max Maretzek was the manager of three—namely, 1852, at the Astor Place Opera House: Steffanone as Alice, Bosio as Isabella (the best that ever sang the rôle), Bettini as Robert (he was then in his palmy days), Vietti as Rambaldo and Marini as Bertram.

In the following year the opera was presented at Castle Garden with Steffanone, Sontag, Salvi, Pozzolini and Marini—a great cast. Maretzek again brought out the opera in 1863, with the following cast:--Alice, Medori; Isabella, Bosisio; Robert, Mazzoleni; Rambaldo, Habelmann; Bertram, Biachi. Ullman tried it at the Academy previously, with Lagrange, Siedenberg, Bignardi, Lorini and Formes. 

The representation last night was, as far as the ensemble is concerned, a disgrace to the name of opera. The cast was the following [see above].

Mlle. Nilsson made such a success in the rôle of Alice as few artists before her have ever enjoyed. The character of the fair girl of Normandy who snatched the reckless, hot-blooded knight from the clutches of Satan suited her admirably. The terrible scene before the demons’ cavern gave her full scope for her wonderful dramatic talent, and her struggles with the fiend were characterized by intense passion and superb acting, which electrified the audience. As regards the singing, we can point to her rendering of ‘Nel Lasciar la Normandia’ as a triumph in art. It was a terrible drawback to her magnificent impersonation of the principal rôle that the opera was so badly produced. Mlle. Duval’s thin, reedy French voice did not do justice to the part of Isabella, and Mr. Lyall, who was suffering from illness, nullified the rôle of Rambaldi. Brignoli achieved a genuine success by his vocal rendition of the part of Robert, and we do not think that he has, during the present season, acquitted himself with more credit to himself and his numerous admirers. But the acting exigencies of the title rôle are very exciting, especially where the tenor has to stand amid the ruins of the Monastery of St. Irene and submit to the absurd pleasantries of a still more absurd ballet. Few tenors are willing to stand the test. It is hard for an operatic artist to fulfil the rôle of an unpleasant statue, with a second class ballet dancer throwing her arms around his neck and making him a pedestal to pose from. Jamet was an excellent Bertram; in fact, the success of the evening was between him and Nilsson. After the unapproachable Formes, it is hard to find a Bertram. But Jamet, even if he did not electrify the house as Carl used to do, gave a very devilish, Mephistophelian idea of the character. 

But to give a reason for our denunciation of the ensemble we must say that never in the course of our long operatic experience did we know of such merciless butchery as was inflicted in the score last night. Some of the very best marches were ruthlessly cut out, and the choruses were worse even than those of the Harmonic Society in its olden days. Twenty pages of the score were passed over at a jump, and demons and Crusaders were constantly at variance. The ballet (shades of Covent Garden!) consisted of a dozen girls, who could not dance, and the Helena, when we bring to mind Carlotta Grisi, Lucille Grahn, Taglioni and Cerito, could have been dispensed with. The mise en sdène was tawdry and cheap and entirely unworthy of the occasion.

The Academy of Music next season will pass into the hands of Max Maretzek, who will have as business manager Mr. Henry Jarrett, whose thirty years’ experience in London will be brought into requisition. Pauline Lucca and the company of Her Majesty’s Opera, Drury Lane, will be the attractions of opera in the Academy during the next season.”

“Leaving for once the graceful scores of Donizetti and Verdi, the Strakosch management last night devoted the ability of its troupe to Meyerbeer’s music. ‘Roberto il Diavolo,’ a work very familiar here, was produced for the purpose of enabling Nilsson to assume the part of Alice. That she would do credit to herself everybody knew; but in the opinion of many able critics and musicians her personation of last night was the finest, the most intellectual, which she has yet presented to us. In appearance and in action she was an Alice who might have delighted the heart of Meyerbeer himself. Her finest points of acting were in the scene where Alice meets Bertram by the solitary cross, and in the last act, where her entreaties save Roberto from the baleful influence of Bertram. In vocalization, the rendering of the Vanne disse was characterized by exquisite taste and purity, though it was received by the audience with unaccountable coldness and apathy; and the singing of the Quando lasciai la Normandia was marked by point and brilliancy. The voice of Nilsson is rich with an ineffable beauty and sweetness; but it does not possess the passionate force of that of several of her predecessors, and consequently certain effects which singers like Grisi or Medori or Steffanone made in the part were wanting; but in place of these there was an equable grace and finish which could not fail to satisfy any listener taking an intellectual view of the part and its requirements. 

The Bertram of Jamet was favorably received. If not a striking personation like that of Hermanns, it is certainly satisfactory, and by far the best thing which this singer has done here. Brignoli, as Roberto, was as serenely unconscious of dramatic requirements as ever, his indifference to the blandishments of the Helena of the evening causing the usual amusement to the audience. Indeed, this scene awakened audible hilarity. Miss Duval was much applauded for her singing of the Roberto, tu che adoro.

The stage appointments of last night’s opera were simply wretched. Such paucity of scenic effect is unusual even at the Academy of Music. The dancing in the ghost scene was bad, and the chorus singing throughout was miserable. The duet between Rambaldo and Bertram was omitted, and other liberties were taken with the score. 

We have had some glorious representations of ‘Robert’ in New York. The Alice of La Grange, or Steffanone, or Grisi, or Medori and of other artists of merit deserves remembrance, though these artists do not surpass Nilsson. The Bertrams of Formes, Hermanns, Biachi and Marini were all superb. The best Robert we have had, at least in point of dashing action, was Mazzoleni. In the part of Isabella Sontag has surpassed all others, though Bosio was nearly as good. On one occasion La Grange sang on the same evening the two parts of Alice and Isabella.”

“The role of Alice in ‘Robert’ seems, at least in several of its more important scenes, to have been created for just such a singer as Nilsson. Everybody familiar with the part expected the prima donna to achieve, last night, a new and distinct success, and there can be no question that she did so. Innocence and womanly sweetness, tinged, with a little flavor of rusticity, are precisely the traits which she delights in exhibiting; and we doubt whether we have ever seen an Alice in New-York who reproduced with more perfect realism the charming Norman maiden. Musically this is rated as a heavy part, and it requires an organ of extensive compass; but it is not beyond Miss Nilsson’s strength, and falls within the reach of both her upper and lower register. As a mere piece of singing, her execution of it is good but by no means remarkable; yet in the whole she gives a striking and picturesque personation that will be classed with her Mignon and Margherita. The success of the performance last evening was notably increased by the excellence of M. Jamet’s Bertram, and Mr. Brignoli’s Robert. The Bertram was the best we have had in many years, careful and correct in singing, and impressive in dress and action. The terrible unaccompanied trio at the end of the Second Act, between these two artists and Miss Nilsson, was finished without a fault. That is an achievement which we rarely have the satisfaction of recording; it should be mentioned to the honor of Nilsson, Brignoli, and Jamet that, in trials of this kind, they can always be depended upon. The orchestra did nobody any credit, though the gentleman who played the ophicleide put an abundance of honest work into his contract, and the horns, albeit a little vague, and erratic, and uncertain of wind, no doubt meant well. The palm of inefficiency, however, must be worn by the chorus, which is probably one of the worst and weakest of its size our Academy has known; it gave us last night an Infernal Chorus all through the opera.”

“Meyerbeer’s ‘Robert,’ as usually seen in New-York, is one of the exhibitions that neither God nor men ought to permit. The wrong that is done to a composer and to art by these mutilated and ridiculously imperfect efforts is such that it is hard to see how educated musicians can bring themselves to assist in the desecration. ‘Robert,’ with its grand and terrible conception, its picturesque associations of costume and architecture, its labyrinths of complicated instrumentation, its wealth of quaint and fantastic melody, its weird and thrilling ballet, and its powerfully wrought contrasts of character, needs all that the best appointed lyric stage can possibly do for it to develop the master’s intention. Much the same is true of such works as ‘William Tell’ or ‘The Huguenots.’ All have often been done here, and have been illustrated by much the same degree of preposterous badness. They have been tissues of clumsy make-shifts, with perhaps one or two good artists and the rest worse than indifferent, and with mise en scene which, if put on our English stage, would disgrace a barn. It is not alone that the legitimate pleasure derivable from such superb works is thus ruthlessly cut off; a greater evil is done in the impression upon the popular mind of a coarse and distorted notion of what is properly harmonious and symmetrical, and by the gross affront and injury thus offered to art in the persons of its great exponents and teachers.

For these reasons, the announcement of any operas of the grade of those names is naturally regarded with distrust, and will continue to be so regarded until the needed progress comes, which will see at least as liberal equipment and as reflected taste on the lyric stage as in the best of our theatres is bestowed on the English drama. After this preface, it is just to say that the performance on Monday evening at the Academy was much better than we hoped to find it. The management clearly appreciated the evil effects of previous misadventures, and strove to the utmost, as far as they are concerned, not to add to the number. ‘Robert’ was by no means all that it should be; but it was a long stride in advance of what we have been used in New-York to see it; and we recognize the propriety, in such a case, of doing ample justice to those who have labored to bring about so worthy an end. The Academy was crowded to excess, and we believe that, with some noted exceptions, the general feeling was one of agreeable disappointment.

This observation, we need hardly say, does not apply to the prima donna; for of the Alice of Mlle. Nilsson much has been heard in the way of praise, and so much was looked for. It is very little to say that the result was highly satisfactory. The audience expected to find the performance naïve yet sweet, simple yet arch; and it was all of these and something more. The girlish Normandy peasant can hardly ever have had a fitter representative, or one who has made a finer or closer study of her characteristics and opportunities. In her opening scene, and especially in the air which most readers will best identify by its original name of ‘Quand je quittais la Normandie,’ Mlle. Nilsson not only quite won the hearts of her auditors, but suggested, by a few easy yet supremely artistic strokes the whole nature of the artless being portrayed. In the Crucifix scene her acting was exceedingly fine, and in that of the awful climax at the close it rose to grandeur. It is by such work as this that the rank of Mlle. Nilsson as a dramatic artist is maintained so as to correspond with the exalted plane she has reached as a vocalist. Unlike Jenny Lind, Mlle. Nilsson does not appropriate from Isabella the ‘Robert toi qui j’aime,’ which stirring cavatina was sung with happy effect by Mlle. Duval. The latter lady did herself credit throughout and gained warm applause. Signor Brignoli was in capital voice on Monday night, and did good justice to the extremely exacting music of his role. To say that he can act Robert would be to say that he can do what perhaps no tenor on the stage is entirely capable of. Signor Brignoli took great pains, and his efforts were warmly appreciated by the vast audience. Signor Jamet, although hardly a basso profundo, is the best Bertram we have seen in a long time. He executes with remarkable taste and discretion, looks the character finely, and is thoroughly versed in all the histrionic traditions of his diabolical role. It is seldom so perfect an effect is produced as was heard on Monday evening in the grand trio, without orchestra, of the second act, when Mlle. Nilsson and the two gentleman named so delighted their hearers as to receive an enthusiastic encore. M. Lyall, the Rambaldo of the night, has a sweet flexible voice, acts unpretendingly, and, on the whole, produced a favorable impression. The choruses, if not all they ought to be, were far better than they often are, and the orchestra was uncommonly prompt and effective. Mlle. Billon was the guilty Abbess Helena of the occasion, and, with the exception of herself, the ballet was almost as bad as in this opera New-York is accustomed to see. The third act was, as usual, the stumbling-block of ‘Robert,’ and marred the ensemble of what promised to be an uncommonly harmonious representation. Even with this drawback ‘Robert’ was fairly done, at least by comparison, and will probably draw another fine house.”

“The one novelty of the fortnight—the production of ‘Robert’ on Monday—was by no means a remarkable piece of enterprise, nor was its success in an artistic point of view a brilliant one. We remember no occasion on which the score was more shamefully cut, and there are not many instances of a worse prepared performance of Meyerbeer’s great work. Yet Miss Nilsson made an excellent Alice and Mr. Jamet a careful and acceptable, though not a very profound Bertram, besides which we had the never-to-be-fortgotten spectacle of Mr. Brignoli tempted by the ballet in the grave-yard scene, which, alone, as the circus bills say, is worth the price of admission.”

 “After the musical platitudes of Verdi, in refreshing contrast, came the massive chorus and skillful orchestration of ‘Roberto.’ We were curious to know what new charm our Prima Donna would add to the character of the Norman maiden, Alice. The cast was distributed as follows [see above]. 

The character of Alice affords little scope for variety of action, for throughout the opera she appears only in the attitude of a gentle and loving soul overshadowed by vague forebodings of a calamity which she knows not how to avert;--a danger which threatens her foster-brother.

There is no display of individual passion, no love, no jealousy; but the versatile genius of the singer, in the absence of that which makes the stock in trade of an ordinary actress, has created an original rôle even here, and her Alice is by far the best impersonation of that character which I have ever seen. From first to last she is moved rather by a holy hatred of evil, than by love for Roberto. In the last act she rises into positive grandeur, and caps the climax by a wonderful stroke of art in the cry ‘Oh gioja,’ which is inexpressibly thrilling and dramatic. How well she sang need not be said, and the airs ‘Vanne, diese al figlio,’ ‘Nel lasciar la Normandia,’ and ‘Sommo Iddio,’ as rendered by her, are not to be forgotten. 

Mlle. Duval was good as Isabella, and M. Jamet made an excellent Bertram. The score of the Opera was cut and mangled without mercy, to give time for a long and tedious ballet, during which Brignoli, burning with ill concealed rage, stood surrounded by a bevy of resuscitated nuns. The position is a trying one, to be sure, but the part once accepted, he should have made the most of it, and been Roberto instead of Brignoli.”