Maretzek Italian Opera: Faust

“Mme. Lucca’s admirable personation of Margarita in ‘Faust’ again attracted to the Academy of Music, last evening, an overwhelming audience. Every seat in the house was occupied, and every foot of standing ground had its holder. Mme. Lucca was thrice summoned before the curtain after the third, the fourth and the fifth act, and, to mention only one portion of the performance as especially impressive, it may be recorded that she was compelled to repeat the ‘Jewel Song,’ thus deferring to an encore for the first time since her debut in this country. We are not called upon to supply a detailed account of Mme. Lucca’s work last night. The artist does more than act cleverly and sing sweetly at those best-remembered stages of the opera, at which attention and applause are within the grasp of any respectable songstress; she portrays with wonderful elaborateness an essentially human Margarita, and in no incident of the action is there wanting that one touch of nature which makes the whole world kin. Mme. Lucca was surrounded yesterday evening by the singers whose efforts have already been written of. We have heard Signor Vizzani, we are constrained to admit, to greater advantage. Last evening he did not invariably respect either time or tune, and he carried to excess his habit of dwelling upon a note he has fastened upon, with an utter disregard for its determined value and for the necessities of the phrase. M. Jamet, it remains to be said, was as conscientious and as effective a representative of Mephisto as ever; and M. Sparapni as acceptable as usual as Valentino. Señora Sanz, as Siebel, in spite of illness and fatigue, was not unequal to her task.”

“Mme. Lucca again sang Margherita last night before a large and appreciative audience. She was summoned to the footlights on two occasions during the performance, and throughout the evening the applause was most liberal. A repetition of the ‘Jewel song’ was demanded, and for the first time since her American advent Mme. Lucca responded.

The rendering of Gounod’s masterpiece last evening differed but little from the previous representations of the work by this company. The prima donna exhibited the same dramatic fervor and sprightliness that we have already made the subject of favorable comment in these columns, and her sweet voice was as effective as before.

Mme. Lucca’s Margherita is charmingly original, and deserves high rank among the efforts of modern singers. She was unfortunately very weakly supported.

Signor Vizzani (Faust) had a cold, and was as uninteresting as heretofore. Signor Sparapani was an inadequate Valentine, and if we except M. Jamet’s Mephisto and Señora Sanz’s Siebel, the cast was unworthy of mention.”

“With such a Marguerite as Mme. Lucca Gounod’s opera is a strong feature in the managerial répertoire at the Irving Place opera house, strong enough to cover up or compensate for many deficiencies in other respects. Gounod has a firm hold of the affections of the public in his illustration of Goethe’s great work, for it possesses in some of the scenes the always attractive merit of dramatic strength and melodious gracefulness, even if the composer does not reach the high standard of Spohr, who for homogeneity of idea and grandeur of conception is immeasurably his superior. ‘Faust’ seems to be a misnomer for this opera. It should rather be called ‘Marguerite.’ All the mysticism and philosophy of the original are lost in the romantic story of the poor peasant girl that predominates in the opera, and the six scenes give a sort of Dolly Varden idea of the immortal creation of the German poet. The weakest of all these scenes, musically speaking, is fortunately the first where Faust as a philosopher is an intolerable bore, and we experience a feeling of intense relief when the chorus of villagers behind the scenes interrupt his meditations. The ‘Kermesse’ is always acceptable, although not Goethean, on account of the brilliancy, well sustained, too, of the music and its popular character, together with the clever and ever changing arrangements of the scene. Here Lucca first reveals her great talent. Every one that has seen her in the opera remembers vividly the first impression produced on the mind when she answers the salutation of the handsome young gallant in the market place. We have spoken of it at length, and need not again refer to it.

The garden scene is a curious intermixture in a musical point of view. The Siebel last night was Señora Sanz, who sung the ‘Parlate d’Amor’ and acted the little part she had to do in the scene very commendably and pleasantly. Then came the tenor, Vizzani, who was not in good voice, and the ‘Salve Dimora’ suffered considerably at his hands. When the first minor chords announced the entrance of Marguerite the attention of the audience became concentrated upon the stage, and the little lady sung the ‘King of Thule’ with that artlessness and yet effectiveness that we have spoken of before. The jewel song (a gem in the music of the opera) was given with such an abandon and sparkle that it drew forth a tumultuous encore. But in the subsequent love scene between Faust and Marguerite Mme. Lucca swept away before her the most callous feelings of even the professional critic. She had to contend against the serious disadvantage of a very cold and indisposed Faust. But every tone of her voice quivered with tenderness, and the concluding aria of the scene, when Gretchen, thrilled with the transport of a first love, sings at the window beneath the soft light of the moon, and unconscious of the presence of her lover and his demon adviser, apostrophizes her newfound idol thus:--‘Ei m’ama,’ the audience became still as death, as of loth to lose one of those magic notes.

The blatant soldiers’ chorus of the next scene proved not particularly interesting; and Signor Sparapani, who played Valentine, again gave evidence of an exceedingly small amount of vocal or dramatic power. The death of Valentine gives a baritone a splendid opportunity to make a decided hit, but Sparapani seems to be utterly incapable of taking advantage of it.

That one short, gasping scream of Lucca in the church scene, when the ominous apparition of the tempter meets her eye and when she falls prostrate in the midst of an astonished congregation, is an indication of genius. The artist and the librettist have done more for this scene than M. Gounod. The composer has dealt with it very queerly, and we might say flippantly, introducing themes and instrumentation not at all in keeping with its character. But Lucca makes one forget the weakness of the music by her grand impersonation of anguish and despair. Every movement of hers, every tone of her voice, rises above the commonplace of mere acting. Yet she does not reach the climax of her Marguerite until the last act, where the expiring effort of the mind of the suffering girl is vividly illustrated. To hear her sing those grand measures, which are worth the rest of the opera, ‘O del ciel, angeli immortal!’ were sufficient to induce one to attend the representation of ‘Faust’ every night for a season. She is the feature of the opera; for, if we except M. Jamet, who has made a decided impression by his fine interpretation of the difficult rôle of Mephistopheles (albeit he also had a cold), there is nothing else to draw such a magnificent audience as that which crowded the Academy from parquet to dome last night. Lucca’s Marguerite will be ever accounted one of those impersonations that shine forth with no common lustre in the pages of Italian opera.”