Maretzek Italian Opera: Faust

“Mme. Lucca repeated, at the Academy of Music, last evening, her remarkable performance of Margarita, in Gounod’s—and Goethe’s—‘Faust.’ The whole personation was distinguished by the natural charm and the dramatic power with which the artist invested the character she portrays from the first; and the familiar passages of the opera, that is to say, the ‘jewel song,’ the exquisite love-duo, the whole of the church scene—hitherto, by the way, an unfamiliar rather than a well-known episode—and the fifth act, elicited tumultuous applause from an overflowing audience. Mme. Lucca was thrice summoned before the footlights after the fourth and the fifth acts had terminated.”

“Lucca’s second appearance in Margherita was an unquestionable triumph. The audience was the largest that has been collected at the Academy since the opening night, and their delight was manifested in hearty applause at many passages of the music. The charming prima donna, whose popularity is now established, was called before the curtain six times during the evening, and the mingled sweetness and power of her closing scene produced an immense impression. Signor Vizzani was in better voice and sang with greater acceptance, but still unequally. We note with satisfaction that the imitation of the Mass has been omitted from the altar scene.”

“Looking at the representation of ‘Faust’ last night at the Academy of Music, entranced by the magnetism of Lucca’s singing and acting, a scene that took place twenty-two years ago was brought to our recollection. We remember seeing Spohr’s opera of ‘Faust’ at the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden, in 1850, the occasion being rendered specially interesting by the presence of the eminent composer, Spohr, who had come over from Hesse Cassel on purpose to superintend its production and conduct the performances. Even Costa (now Sir Michael), temporarily abdicated his orchestral throne in favor of the renowned German master, and everything possible was done to render the opera attractive.

There were musical giants and giantesses on earth in those days, and many of them were then assembled in London for the season. Among the vocalists were:--Mesdames Grisi, Jenny Lind, Persiani, Dorus, Gras, d’Angri, Castellan, Alboni, Mario, Salvi, Tamburini, Carl Formes, Ronconi, Pischek, Lablache, Marini, and Tamberlik. Of these (all then in their zenith) some are dead and others so lost in a kind of sympathetic dissolution as regards artistic existence that Rossini’s ‘Mi Manca la Voce’ (my voice fails me), or the old men’s chorus in Gounod’s ‘Faust’ are the only places in which they could now be heard to advantage. Fancy Tamberlik and Mario in the first tenor part of the latter.

From the above-mentioned splendid galaxy the cast of Spohr’s ‘Faust’ was selected, Madame Castellan, Tamberlik, Giorgio Ronconi and Carl Formes sustaining the principal characters. But, despite the superior beauty of the music, and the applause bestowed upon the lovely baritone aria, ‘Liebe ist die zarte Blüthe’ (Faust is a baritone in Spohr’s opera), the soprano scena, ‘Ja, ich fühl’ es treue Liebe;’ the fine bass air for Mephisto, and the witches’ choruses, the opera failed to take a permanent hold of the public, in consequence of the clumsily constructed libretto and comparatively small importance attached to the character of Marguerite.

We have glanced at the production of Spohr’s ‘Faust’ at Covent Garden chiefly to show that music alone, however beautiful, will not insure the success of an opera in the present age, and to explain why one of the greatest of modern composers failed in dealing with a subject since so successfully treated by Monsieur Gounod. It is not so much to his music that the celebrated French composer owes the popularity of his ‘Faust’ as to the fact that his librettist provided him with a leading character in the person of Marguerite, which makes large demands upon the highest order of executive genius. With an efficient Marguerite, Gounod’s ‘Faust’ must always please; with a great one it excites enthusiasm.

But speaking of Marguerite, her name is legion. In a recent article we mentioned all or nearly all the successful representatives of that deeply interesting character who have appeared here and elsewhere. We spoke of them comparatively, the good, the better and the best, and that best is unquestionably Mme. Pauline Lucca. Hers, indeed, is the only truthful portrayal of the past according to the poet’s idea. To say that she does justice to M. Gounod’s music would be faint praise, for she raises it into a pure atmosphere of simple truth to which the composer does not seem to desire to soar. She infuses some healthy German life blood, fresh from a heart fired by Goethean inspiration, into the veins of the Gallic muse, who improves under the process.

Take for instance the dismal ‘Es war ein Koenig in Thule,’ with its quaint harmonies. 

Why should the light-hearted German child feel so hopelessly wretched as this mournful ditty, which sounds like some ancient Scandinavian death song or an Irish ‘keen’ seems to imply? Gretchen is simply disturbed in mind. ‘Es ist mir so, ich Weiss nicht wie (I feel I know not how), says Goethe’s creation, and M. Gounod immediately intones the saddest of chants.

Mme. Lucca, however, with more knowledge of Goethe than of M. Gounod, very properly lightens the oppressive effect of this as much as possible by singing it faster and with much less melancholy expression than the composer intended. The same kind of merit belongs to her immensely joyous and thoroughly unaffected rendering of the ‘Air des Bijoux,’ which rather solicits from the singer the small graces and piquant effects of the French opéra comique school. Here again Mme. Lucca corrects M. Gounod and surpasses in truthfulness every other representative of the character.

With Madame Lucca, Marguerite, in fine, is the unadulterated child of nature that Goethe drew. No fine lady, truly, no poetical visionary. Would Faust kiss her hand, she tells him ‘Sie ist so garstig ist so rauh.’ (It is so dirty and so rough.) Further she relates how at early morn she had to be at the washing tub, ‘Und fruh am Tag schon am Waschtrog stehn.’ When she loves, nothing can be more emphatic than the expression of her love. Witness the manner in which she takes Faust to her arms and kisses him, exclaiming, ‘Bester Mann! von Herzen lieb ich dich.” (Best of men, I love thee from my heart.) Those who do not understand Goethe may take this to be coarse, but those who do regard it as the pure and spontaneous ebullution of first love, trusting, truthful and beautiful.

But in the church scene and the last agonizing interview with Faust the acting and singing of Madame Lucca rise into the regions of sublimity. No one who has ever seen her in these scenes can forget the forceful character of her acting or the voice quivering over with real passion. Owing to the illness—a severe one, too—of Mlle. Sanz, the contralto of Mr. Maretzek’s company, Mlle. Frida de Gebele, a recognized favorite in New York, undertook the rôle of Siebel at a few hours’ notice, and made a very commendable impersonation of it. Signor Vizzani was taken actually out of a sick bed to play the part of Faust, and he did not disappoint the expectations of his manager. We wish we could say the same of Signor Sparapani as Valentine, but we cannot. Entire praise is due to the magnificent rendition of the rôle of Mephistopheles by M. Jamet, who has so far proved himself one of the best and most reliable artists of the entire troupe. There seems to be something fatal to operatic voices in the present weather, but Madame Lucca has so far escaped scot free. Her glorious voice was in first class condition last night.”