Maretzek Italian Opera: Fra Diavolo

“Madame Lucca’s Zerlina, in Auber’s pretty opera, is somewhat celebrated abroad and certainly presents many characteristics which ought to give it popularity anywhere. It is vivacious, picturesque, and amusing. She conceives the part just as she does Gounod’s Margherita, with more reference to the suggestions of the text than to the sentiment of the music. She makes the innkeeper’s daughter, therefore, a genuine rustic full of animal spirits, unpolished, a little coarse, and even vulgar,--not a French soubrette, but an Italian contadina. The abundant by-play with which she decorates the scene in the first act wherein Fra Diavolo takes his refreshment at the inn door is of the low comedy order, and she allows herself sometimes a little of the freedom of the farce. The second act offers her best opportunity. Here, in the bed-chamber scene, if not always judicious, she is thoroughly amusing. She fills the house with laughter, and infuses even into the most wretched of her supporters some faint spark of dramatic spirit. She betrays perhaps no very great art, but she brims over with fun. The music is delivered with simplicity and smoothness, especially the toilet song; but it is less by song than by action that she fascinates in this opera, and it would be easy to mention half a dozen artists who deliver the music with far more ease, brilliancy, sweetness, and expression that she does.

Ronconi was, of course, the Lord Allcash, and he acquitted himself of the oft-repeated task with even more than his customary humor and less than his customary voice. Sig. Vizzani was entirely out of place as Fra Diavolo, having no élan whatever, and not enough voice, and dressing as to his body like a well-to-do gambler, and as to his legs like aFulton Market oysterman. The Lady Allcash of Mme. Frida de Gebele, replacing Señora Sanz, was lamentable. The celebrated tenor, Herr Reichardt, and that eminent basso, Signor Locatelli, the one as the brigadier and the other as the innkeeper, had a better opportunity to display their vast incapacity than is often afforded them, while Dubreul and Weinlich, as the bandits, completed the symmetrical cast. We have only to add that the chorus was the worst we can now remember, and if a chorus cannot sing ‘Fra Diavolo,’ what shall be said of it? The representation indeed was so poor that even Mme. Lucca could not save it.”

“Every one seemed to take it for granted that Mme. Lucca would be no less charming in light than in serious opera. Report had said that she was a mistress of all those graces and winning ways that make comic opera enjoyable, and this report her performance of Zerlina in Auber’s ‘Fra Diavolo’ completely justified.

It is not much of a part, vocally considered, and requires the art of the actress to give it prominence. Mme. Lucca has not only an excellent knowledge of the ordinary stage business, but she vitalizes the character with her own buoyant spirit and sense of humor. Her action is always natural, easy, and to the point. Her powers as an actress have been well exemplified by the varying rôles that she has assumed. The stateliness, dignity, and grandeur of character of the Indian Queen in ‘L’Africaine,’ the pathos, passion and sentiment of Marguerite in ‘Faust,’ and the mirth, brightness and vivacity of Zerlina in ‘Fra Diavolo,’ have each in turn been represented by her, and it would be difficult to say which of the three was the better done. Certainly but few prima donnas could represent so well such diverse characteristics as they call for.

Zerlina was least of a creation, because it always allows but little scope to the imagination of the actress.

Of the rest of the cast we have not many favorable words to say. The bandits were grotesque rather than amusing. Dubreuil and Weinlich have acted the parts so long that they are forgetting how to do them well. Vizzani, the tenor, showed last evening all his weaknesses and scarcely any of his strong points, and Mr. Reichardt is allowed to exhibit his imperfections much too often and too conspicuously at the Academy for the pleasure of the audiences.

We should not omit to say that Signor Ronconi, as usual, contributed to the spirit of the performance by his suggestive and artistic drollery as Lord Allcash.

In consequence of the continued illness of Mlle. Sanz the rôle of Lady Allcash was given to Mme. de Gebele.”

“’Fra Diavolo,’ the merry, sparkling, picturesque opera of Auber, which always pleases, was given last night at the Academy of Music with marked success, despite many drawbacks in the representation. Probably no great artist was ever so badly supported as Madame Lucca upon the boards of an opera house of first repute. Musically all was weakness save the charming Zerlina. The tenor ran constantly into falsetto, the chorus was faintly adumbrated against the background of the orchestra, the brigands manifested their signal incapacity in a short crescendo up to the crowning failure of the mirror song in imitation of Zerlina; the Lady Allcash was deplorable—where, then, was the marked success? It was in the piquant spontaneity of Madame Lucca whose graces of person and manner were shown to the greatest advantage, and who sang throughout with wonderful sweetness and brilliancy, though never exerting herself to make us lose sight of the soubrette in our admiration of the soprano. To this character she imparted an indescribable espiéglerie, betraying in it a talent for comedy that is hardly surpassed on the acting stage. In the bedroom scene it was amusing to see how adroitly she trod on the verges of propriety, and what pretty innocence characterized the whole passage, wherein the Honi Soit continually suggested itself. We should not omit to give a word of thanks to Signor Ronconi for the unfailing vivacity and humor of his historical Lord Allcash, though his voice is but a memory and no more."

“Auber’s opera of ‘Fra Diavolo,’ old and popular though it be, does not call for any extended comment in a musical point of view. It is Frenchy, glittering and abounding in military noise and blasé. It has never attracted even the passing attention of a real musician. Therefore in this country only one artist has, heretofore given any sort of vitality to the opera and brought it forward as a feature. This was the tenor, Mazzoleni, who came out six years ago in the rôle and carried the metropolis by storm at once. The public spoke of Mazzoleni’s Fra Diavolo as a revelation in sensational opera, and certainly they stood to him as long as he had a shred of voice left. After the artistic demise of this singer ‘Fra Diavolo’ was quietly dropped from the operatic répertoire, and never has commanded attention.

Last evening there was a new departure. The queen songstress, Madame Lucca, essayed the rôle of Zerlina. Now this rôle is by no means an interesting one in a musical point of view. The music of the opera, from beginning to end, is better suited to the opéra bouffe stage than that of the ‘grand Italian opera.’ The rôle of Zerlina is particularly barren of real melody. There are a few flashy subjects conceived in the spirit of the salon more than that of the lyric stage, and these subjects do not command even a moment’s attention from a musician. When, in face of these facts, Madame Lucca carries the opera through with a dash, success and brilliancy such as no one has ever known it to possess here before, some idea may be formed of her wonderful impersonation of the rôle of Zerlina. A cold description in words cannot give an adequate idea of it. The mind that can thrill the audience with the tragic power displayed in the rôles of Selika and Marguerite is here as potent in representing the light-hearted peasant girl and innkeeper’s daughter. Nothing in opera can be more commonplace than the song in the first act, known in English as ‘On yonder rock reclining,’ yet the verse of this song sung by Madame Lucca called forth a perfect avalanche of enthusiasm.

But the scene of the second act, when the pure-minded, joyous peasant girl, in the supposed privacy of her chamber, gives way to her own girlish feeling, was one that should make the opera of ‘Fra Diavolo’ a great popular success if there was nothing else to recommend it. Her acting was the quintessence of comedy. There were none of the little French arts in the undressing business that mar the purity of the character. She sat down at her toilet table, singing the maidenly ‘O quant’ io sono felice!’ with an artless grace and unconscious charm that were irresistible. Here and there were nameless little features of the most attractive kind. When surveying herself in the mirror she indulged in the pardonable vanity of an apostrophe to be beauty, ‘Questa vita, non c’è mai,’ her acting was simply the climax of the comédienne’s art. This one scene constitutes the entire feature of the opera. Can any greater proof be given of the genius of an artist than this wonderful exhibition of comic power by Madame Lucca before her audience, already thrilled by her tragic impersonations of such rôles as those of Selika and Gretchen? We are not inclined to fall into the common mistake of saying that her Zerlina is the best of Madame Lucca’s impersonations. She has simply invested a very commonplace rôle with an interest that only genius can give.

To refer to the other members of the cast, we have only words of sincere praise for the Lord Allcash (why on earth should the libretto call him Lord Roeberg?) of Ronconi. There has been, is and probably will be, only one Ronconi. Such a consummate artist can only exist in one generation. Years ago, and so many years that our fathers seem to be better acquainted with the artist than ourselves, this brilliant star of opera shone with a lustre that has never been dimmed since. When Ronconi (and he is the junior of Mario) leaves the operatic stage there is no one living to be his worthy successor. Half the operas of Italian composers which are popular to-day were written for him specially.

Vizzani sang the blatant measures of the title rôle for the first time in his life. His voice was in better condition that at any time since he made his début in this country. His acting was quiet, probably more so than what one is accustomed to look for in the King of the Abruzzi. But why in the chanson, ‘Agnese, la Zitella,’ he should resort to the falsetto in the only A flat that occurs, and that, too, without an efficient falsetto, we are at a loss to know. A falsetto, except under peculiar circumstances, is always objectionable, and in this case it destroyed the air. Madame Frida de Gebele, called upon at a moment’s notice to undertake the rôle of Lady Allcash (Lady Pamela in the libretto), owing to the severe illness of Senorita Sanz, made a very favorable impression and proved herself a capable artist. She gave universal satisfaction. The stage manager, Dubreuil, and Herr Weinlich took the parts of the brigands, Beppo and Giacomo. The former did very well and the latter very bad. The Lorenzo, Mr. Reichardt, was the worst actor and singer we have ever known in the rôle. The chorus made no particular feature in the opera, and Mr. Maretzek brought the orchestra through in a very satisfactory manner. Our old friend, the Swiss scene, seems to have made a legitimate demise, for a substitute was provided last evening.”

“Auber may be stigmatized as a trifler by the new lights and the magnates of the ultra-classical school; but, after all, what would we not give for another composer of light opera just now with his dash, his rollicking ease, his melodic wealth, and his splendid talent for climax? In the end, and in all criticism of art, we come to this, that no composer and no artist can be perfect; yet only after we have lost some particular genius who has ministered to our pleasure, do we begin to realize how much we have dwelt on his defects, and how little on his merits; and only when his inferiors come into the same walk, and stand forth in competition, do we perceive his superiority, and confess our own slowness of appreciation.

‘Fra Diavolo’ was sung on Friday night, at the Academy, as the fourth opera of the season. A fine house was in attendance, and the applause was loud and real. Mme. Lucca, as Zerlina, was in her best voice, singing all of her music superbly, and Signor Vizzani, the Fra Diavolo, for a wonder was not hoarse. Signor Ronconi was as droll as ever as Milord Allcash. The two subordinate bandits, who are such important figures in the opera, were well dressed and acted and sung fairly; and the rest of the cast was at least endurable. If not always in strict accord, the chorus and orchestra often came very near it; and there was a general liveliness about the performance which, compared with some work occasionally seen and heard at the Academy, might easily have carried off more defects than were apparent on this occasion.

Much of the freshness and charm of Mme. Lucca’s Gretchen pervades her Zerlina. The Italian peasant, like the German peasant, is made natural, that is to say, and not artificial. Most ladies on the Italian operatic stage, as well as on the English, have fallen into an error in this regard, which for some time has been slipping from bad to worse. They have made their maidens of low life maidens of high life in masquerade. They have overdone the thing to an extent that has banished illusion and eclipsed the purpose of art. Instead of holding the mirror up to nature, they have held it up to a sophisticated and meretricious copy. Here in Mme. Lucca teaches something, and in the measure of her lesson—apart from and beyond her vocal merits—she commands our gratitude. She has the merit, in these particular parts, that Mr. Fechter has in nearly all parts; she makes us ask, that is, what manner of person is this which is to be represented, and why is this new picture of it so different from what we have seen before? And when the answer, with proper reflection, comes, it is ‘The person is what the artist shows us, and what we have seen before is a mistaken or a defective imitation.’ Zerlina, as we saw her last night, is a veritable Italian peasant girl, meeting her situation in a probable way. She is not a pseudo fine lady condescending to her task, wearing impossible clothes, and dealing in impossible graces, but just the passionate inn-keeper’s daughter, brought up in a romantic country, likely to be captivated by Lorenzo, frightened by Fra Diavolo and successfully mimicked by his scoundrelly followers. Added to this prime quality of verisimilitude Mme. Lucca’s Zerlina abounds in grace, sparkle and coquetry. She rivets the eyes of her public as much as she charms their ears, for her by-play is full of piquancy and suggestive expression, and her mobile and handsome face is a study that always rewards close examination.

Signor Vizzani is a smooth and agreeable Fra Diavolo, but he greatly lacks abandon and electricity in the part. The springiness, chivalric carriage and supreme audacity of the bold brigand, Signor Vizzani has yet to acquire. In the meantime, to sing the music correctly, and to move about and give the lines in an inoffensive way is something; and in these points Signor Vizzani was not deficient. The audience were, without question, much gratified last night. They applauded with a spontaneity not too familiar, insisted on seeing Mme. Lucca over and over again before the curtain and bestowed on that captivating lady repeated encores, which she wisely employed her prerogative in declining. All things considered, ‘Fra Diavolo’ is to be set down as one of the successes, so far, of the season, and it ought to prove very attractive if put up for repetition.”