Event Information

Venue(s):
Academy of Music

Manager / Director:
Max Maretzek
Henry C. Jarrett

Price: $2; $2 extra reserved seat, parquet, balcony, box; $16-25 private box; $1 family circle; $.50 extra, secured seat

Event Type:
Opera

Record Information

Status:
Published

Last Updated:
6 October 2024

Performance Date(s) and Time(s)

30 Sep 1872, 8:00 PM
05 Oct 1872, 1:00 PM

Performers and/or Works Performed

1)
aka Afrikanerin
Composer(s): Meyerbeer
Text Author: Scribe
Participants:  Maretzek Italian Opera Company;  [tenor] Locatelli (role: Don Diego);  G. [basso] Fossati (role: Priest);  [tenor] Lyall (role: Don Alvar);  Joseph Jamet (role: Don Pedro);  Miss [mezzo-soprano] Schofield (role: Anna);  Pauline Lucca (role: Selika);  Leoni Levielli (role: Inez);  Signor [tenor] Abrugnedo (role: Vasco di Gama);  Signor [baritone] Moriami (role: Nelusko);  [bass] Bertacchi (role: Grand Inquisitor)

Citations

1)
Announcement: New-York Times, 11 August 1872, 4.
2)
Article: New York Herald, 18 August 1872, 6.

Forthcoming season

3)
Announcement: New York Clipper, 24 August 1872, 166.

Roster

4)
Announcement: New York Post, 24 August 1872, 2.

Forthcoming season

5)
Article: New-York Times, 25 August 1872, 4.

Biographical sketch of soprano Pauline Lucca, who is to make her New York debut next month.

6)
Announcement: New-York Times, 01 September 1872, 4.
7)
Article: New-York Daily Tribune, 12 September 1872, 1.

Forthcoming New York season.

8)
Article: New York Herald, 12 September 1872, 6.

Arrival on the steamship Cuba; houses engaged for Mme. Lucca and for Clara Louise Kellogg during their New York engagements.

9)
Advertisement: New-York Times, 16 September 1872, 7.

Roster; repertory

10)
Announcement: New York Post, 16 September 1872, 2.

Roster; repertory.

11)
Article: New York Herald, 18 September 1872, 7.

Brief biographical sketch of the soprano.

12)
Article: New York Herald, 19 September 1872, 3.

Rehearsal for L’Africaine.

13)
Announcement: Dwight's Journal of Music, 21 September 1872, 311.

Roster and roles.

14)
Article: New York Herald, 21 September 1872, 3.

Quote from an article by German critic Herr Hackländer.

15)
Announcement: New York Herald, 24 September 1872, 6.
16)
Article: New York Herald, 28 September 1872, 7.
17)
Article: New York Herald, 30 September 1872, 33.
18)
Review: New-York Times, 01 October 1872, 5.

“A great throng filled and overflowed the Academy last night, to grace the beginning of the operatic season. The weather was auspicious, and all things conspired to lend lively interest to the occasion. The opening night of Italian opera in New-York is always attended with eagerness, even when indifferent attractions of previous disappointments tend to discourage the strong liking of our people for this elegant amusement. But there was pretty good assurance this time of things worth hearing and seeing, and the general belief that higher and more substantial standards were to be arrived at in all departments of the opera inspired hope and confidence. ‘L’Africaine,’ truly, has been found heavy in New-York, yet as truly the work, exigent and difficult as it is, has never before been fairly done here; while to the rôle of the heroine in this representation were understood to be brought the commanding talents of an artist of the first rank, and acknowledged as such by the most critical audiences of Europe; the powers of a tenor reported to be of high promise; singers of excellent repute in the other parts; and an ensemble in the way of instruments, choristers, and scenes worthy of the composer of Gli Ugonotti. When to these elements of probable success, were added a clean and freshly-decorated house, and—if last not least—the popular regard for the clever and widely-know manager, Mr. Max Maretzek, there was certainly enough last night to warrant the pleased expectancy with which the brilliant audience assembled, no less than the great number and intelligent character of the persons of which it was composed. That the fashionable part of the year is at hand, was shown by many well-known faces, and the culture and intelligence of the Metropolis were likewise amply represented.

Our notice sets forth, it must be admitted, with more of approval than the performance did. The curtain fell on the first act with scarcely a hand. At the end of the second act Mme. Lucca and her companions were called three times before the curtain. The third act was tolerated but hardly relished by the audience. And yet in subsequent portions real enthusiasm was created. The reasons for these apparent anomalies are obvious. In the first place, an immensely crowded house looked for something very much out of the common way, which, indeed, they were to have, but not so soon as was expected. Secondly, ‘L’Africaine,’ an immensely difficult and complicated work, undoubtedly is heavy, and comparatively uninteresting in its earlier portions. And, finally, the better passages of Selika’s music, and her most striking situations, come near the close of the opera. The cast of ‘L’Africaine,’ last night, was almost entirely strange to the New-York public, and the opera was likewise to many hearers unfamiliar; facts which may further be cited as reasons for a reception, equivocal certainly at times, and yet ending in a veritable triumph. The distribution included [see above]. 

Mme. Lucca is undeniably a lyric artist of noble and captivating ability. That she possesses a voice of singular richness, flexibility and capacity for the suggestion of passion, the among us who read current musical literature are well aware. We imagine, however, that fewer have been prepared for the histrionic grasp, unity and pathos of Mme. Lucca’s Selika, which must, in every way, be set down as one of the grandest lyric performances now anywhere to be seen. The artist [has] very little to do in the first act—scarcely anything beyond the explanatory phrase, beginning ’Fatti fummo prigioni,’ but Mme. Lucca’s vocal qualities were early enjoyed in the ‘In Grembo a me,’ which opens act second, and further appreciated in passages succeeding. Her supreme effort is, as might be expected, in the ‘Scene du Maucenillier,’ at the close. From the solemn opening ‘Da qui io vedo’ until the ‘No! è il piacer,’ Mme. Lucca’s performance is conceived and executed in the loftiest style of art, and makes intelligible at once the reputation she has gained in this particular scena abroad. The melody and charm of the singer’s vocal resources are acknowledged, of course; of these much can be said in admiring recognition without stumbling upon hyperbole. But it is by virtue of her lyric power, her strength as an actress, that Mme. Lucca takes exceptional, and even unique, rank. Her passion, grace, and mobility find excellent scope in the tropical Selika. By these qualities she attacks our sympathies and takes them willing captives. The touching pathos, the wounded pride, the ineffable, yet humiliated, love, and the mournful end of the unhappy Queen, are rendered by her with a tragic force and an imaginative versatility that amount to genius. There is here genuine emotional inspiration, the power not to be compassed by art alone, the electricity unattainable even by high mental capacity, the faculty, rare as it is, which is yet indispensable to real dramatic triumph.

Signor Abrugnedo, the new tenor, strikes on a first hearing as a true and honest singer, and one who will make himself a favorite here. He sang more effectively toward the end than at first. That he did not altogether create a furore last night may be partly imputed to causes already recited. The paucity of flowing and ‘catchable’ melodies in the score and the solicitude of a first appearance each doubtless had their share in the result; and this may be said in a modified degree of the new baritone, Signor Moriami, who, we also think, will improve greatly on acquaintance, and of whom, as of Signor Abrugnedo, we prefer to speak more at length on further hearing. Mme. Levieli is a pleasant soprano, with a voice apparently not over fresh, a good method, and considerable execution. The Don Pedro of Signor Jamet, like all the efforts of this fine artist, was workmanlike, thorough, and even throughout; and the other characters call for no mention. A great deal of work has been done with chorus and orchestra, and both, as tested by current standards, although now and then deplorably uneven, are good—uncommonly so. The score of ‘L’Africaine’ has never been so delicately or reverently handled here in so many instances before, and if this is not saying as much as we could wish, it yet denotes a progress worthy of encouragement and congratulation. Of the fittings of the stage, too, we can speak with praise, although not, indeed, more warmly than of other details. The improvements in front of the house are reasonably approached behind the footlights, and the whole effect last night was in advance of what, in all these regards, and in so laborious a production, we have so long endured. We consider that Messrs. Maretzek and Jarrett have begun their season in creditable fashion, and that the public have shown commensurate readiness to own and reward the managerial enterprise.”

19)
Review: New York Herald, 01 October 1872, 7.

“The scene last night at the Academy of Music will long dwell in the memory of those who had the happiness to witness it. Never perhaps in the history of opera in this country did an audience so numerous and brilliant assemble to welcome an artist to the American stage. The début of Madame Lucca was looked forward to with unusual interest by the public on account of the romance that surrounds the story of her struggles and her triumphs. Coming to us with a great European reputation there was a pretty general feeling that the American public had nothing to do but accept the verdict already pronounced by a competent tribunal on the vocal powers of the wayward little lady.

In selecting ‘L’Africaine’ for the opening night the management displayed good sense, for, although that magnificent work of Meyerbeer has never obtained much hold on the American public, every one was anxious to see the one prima donna who could invest the rôle of Selika with absorbing interest. The result justified the managerial calculations. Public attention was thoroughly aroused and every one who could manage it went to the great Selika’s début to note the impression she would make, fully convinced that it would mark an epoch in the history of the lyric stage.

Long before the hour announced for the opening of the Academy a crowd had collected at the entrance in Irving Place, resolved to hold their own against all comers and secure the best positions. These were the unfortunate votaries of the muses, who, from carelessness or economy, had neglected to obtain seats while there was yet time, and were now forced to watch and struggle for some coign of vantage. People pushed about in a most unceremonious manner, and whoever had the hardest ribs and the sharpest elbows got nearest the wished-for entrance.

At last the doors opened and the surging mass of humanity precipitated themselves into the interior and were quickly distributed through the house. Those who held reserved seats came in more slowly, as their locations were fixed and there was no need to hurry. Even this class, however, were not long in putting in an appearance, and the mass of dark-looking, empty seats became dotted here and there with the white burnous of the ladies. Gradually the large blank spaces were filled with animated human forms, until the melancholy-looking auditorium brightened up and bloomed, as if under the wand of a magician, with a parterre of brilliant costumes, sparkling diamonds, laughing eyes and beautiful human faces full of sympathetic life. 

Never, perhaps, had the Academy looked so brilliant as it did last night. Every nook and corner was filled, and there did not seem to be a spot where another human being could be conveniently placed. The richness of the ladies’ toilets and the general prevalence of full dress contributed to give an unusual éclat to the scene, which was not without its effect on the spirits of the audience. So much had been promised on behalf of Mme. Lucca that expectation ran high, and the public were on their guard not to be surprised into accepting the débutante before she had thoroughly demonstrated her right to be considered as the great artiste whose Selika was without rival. This feeling was felt rather than manifested, and in spite of the joyous look of the house the audience were reserved and almost cold in the opening acts.

There was no marked welcome extended to any of the artists until Madame Lucca appeared on the scene. If there was not manifested the kind of enthusiasm which would have hailed Mme. Lucca in Italy, France or even England, there was yet a compensating heartiness in the welcome tendered to her that went a far way to replace the missing enthusiasm. As the evening wore on the cold and formal spirit of the audience dissolved, and under the magic influence of Mme. Lucca's clear, sweet notes the audience were warmed into admiration and finally into enthusiasm. Not a solitary flower was cast at her feet when she first appeared, but when she had sung and the audience became convinced that she possessed all the gifts and genius that she had been credited with, floral tributes were absolutely showered on her. In at least one instance this statement is literally true. An enthusiastic admirer in the upper tier of boxes threw a huge bouquet with such a true aim that it landed on Lucca’s shoulder. As the bouquet might be more correctly described as a bundle of flowers, the compliment quite staggered the lady, but she rallied and looked up amiably at the maladroit, who hastened to disappear as rapidly as he could. This was about the only contretemps of the night, as everything went on very smoothly.

In face of the magnificent promises made by the directors of the Academy the mise en scene was anything but impressive, and though there was no attempt made to introduce our old Swiss friend we feel assured that we have not yet done with that marvelously enduring monument of the scene painter’s art.

What a strange thing is the mind of a great composer, when, after reaching the temple of fame and being crowned with imperishable laurels, ambition leads him on to mount still higher and to excel all his former efforts! There are numberless instances of the result of the o’erweening ambition. Beethoven is one, and every musician knows that the fire of his genius burned not so brightly in the sunset of his days as at the noontide, when he poured forth symphony after symphony, those imperishable works of art. Meyerbeer achieved a renown before which that of all other operatic composers must fade, by his ‘Huguenots,’ ‘Prophète,’ ‘’Etoile du nord,’ and ‘Robert;’ but none of these works were so dear to him as that which was presented at the Academy of Music last night. He dreamed his life away on a work which was to tower above all others, and this work was ‘L’Africaine.’ All other efforts of his mind were insignificant to him in presence of this one absorbing idea. We have told before how he sought long and patiently for a prima donna worthy of interpreting the heroine of his work, and how in Pauline Lucca he thought he found his ideal.

But to refer to last night’s representation. The cast of the opera was the following [see above].

About six years ago, at the old Academy of Music, Zucchi was the Selika, Mazzoleni the Vasco and Bellini the Nelusko. Then came Grau’s troupe, and Gazzaniga essayed the part of the heroine. The opera has been given at the Stadt Theatre in German several times since. But, all things considered, last night’s representation placed the work in the light of a novelty. A new and carefully selected company and many painstaking rehearsals testified to the care of the management. As the chorus and orchestra are of more vital importance to an opera of Meyerbeer than to that of any other composer—we may say here that Mr. Maretzek’s forces in these departments were well disciplined, but not strong enough in number to invest the work with that dignity, grandeur and effect desirable. There were forty-four instruments in the orchestra and fifty odd singers, and of the volume of tone produced by them the orchestra had the lion’s share. The tempos were in general well observed, and both voices and instruments responded promptly to the baton of Mr. Maretzek. In the chorus a certain expression and tone-color was perceptible—something new in Italian opera here. The ‘Mariner’s Prayer,’ in the third act, was a fine specimen of artistic singing; and praise is also due to the spirited rendering of the address to Brama by the Indian worshippers in the fourth act. The Inquisitors did very well in the Invocation—a superb melody for the basses—in the first act.

But the attention, eyes and ears of the audience were centred upon the little songstress who portrayed the heroine, and her entrance before the Inquisitors was the signal for as hearty a welcome than we have ever known given to a prima donna at the Academy of Music on her first appearance. 

There was not much for her to display her great talents in this act, but enough to show that she was possessed of rare dramatic talents and of a voice of the mezzo soprano order, even in all its registers, pure and sympathetic in tone and quivering with emotion when the image of the beloved Vasco di Gama was brought before her. In the prison scene the lovely slumber song, given with the most intense expression of tenderness that could emanate from the human heart, awoke the audience to the realization of a lyric genius. Then the duet with Vasco, in which the dusky queen is beguiled into the pleasing thought that her love is returned, was given with an outburst of joy that reflected itself vividly from voice and radiant countenance. In the fourth act the impersonation of Selika by Mme. Lucca reached a climax of excellence in another love duet, which drew forth from every hearer a hearty, spontaneous response and made the Academy ring with applause.

The last great scene, where the forsaken Selika, having in a self-sacrificing spirit given up her own happiness for that of her lover and rival, sings her death song beneath the deadly shade of the Mancanilla tree, was one to be remembered. The fierce Asiatic passion, that, tigress-like, inspired her even in the dungeon of the Inquisition to attempt the life of her rival, now sinks into an abyss of despair, lighted only by the memory of her lost love. As the lethal lethargy overcomes her and the poison steals through her frame, ecstatic visions of a home beyond the dark river float before her mind. She sees herself in bright lands, brighter than even those of her own sunny clime, wandering hand in hand with the idol of her heart. Thus she passes away in a dream, and the light falls on a glorified face lying beneath the deadly [illegible] when the soul has taken its flight. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to give an adequate idea of Lucca’s acting in this scene. It is an epic of human passion. Lucca’s success was complete.

The next artist in the company who won instant popularity was the tenor, Abrugnedo. It is hard to efface the recollection of Mazzoleni, when he was in his palmy days, but the Spanish tenor accomplished the task. In the duets with Selika he nobly responded to the impassioned efforts of the prima donna, and in that delicious morceau of melody in the fourth act, ‘O Paradiso!’ which is enveloped in a diaphanous veil of string tremolos, his pure, rich, sympathetic, well-modulated voice was heard to advantage. His voice has all the eclatant qualities of that of Wachtel, with more ease, grace and reliability of tone. His appearance is also prepossessing, and his acting, is rather quiet, graceful.

Mlle. Levielle sang the rôle of Inez very commendably, and, malagré a thinness of tone in the upper notes, her voice is very pleasing and satisfactory in opera. Signor Moriami did not make as much of the part of the savage chieftain as his predecessors, Bellini, on the Italian stage, and Jacob Muller, on the German. Nelusko requires a more robust, effective and passionate singer than Signor Moriami. This was particularly evident in the dashing Mephistophelian song, ‘King Adamastor,’ in which he scares the sailors almost out of their wits. Jamet, a true, conscientious artist, made the most out of the rôle of Don Pedro. 

The ship scene is a bother to all managers, both in Europe and America, as the nautical knowledge displayed by the people on the stage is generally of the crudest description. It is no wonder that the poor ship goes on the rocks after such seamanship as is shown by her crew. But Portuguese craft have been proverbially unmanageable, and that of ‘L’Africaine’ is, perhaps, no worse than others of the same ilk. The minor rôles were respectably filled, and a word of praise is due to Signor Lyall. The opera is a very heavy, rather cumbersome work, and not calculated to gain popularity in its general features. But the Selika of Lucca is sufficient to lift every scene she appears in out of its massiveness, and build up a fairy structure of beauty and melody that cannot fail to win the sympathies of any audience.”

20)
Review: New York Herald, 01 October 1872, 6.

“The Academy of Music looked bright and pleasant last night. The occasion was a momentous one—no less than the first appearance in America of the favorite prima donna of Berlin, London and St. Petersburg. The name of Pauline Lucca was wafted across the Atlantic on the wings of fame, and the beauty, wealth and intelligence of New York came out in all their bravery of attire and fullness of enthusiasm to do honor to her American début. They were not disappointed either, for the talented little prima donna appeared in her best rôle, Selika in ‘L’Africaine,’ and roused the audience to a pitch of excitement unusual with the staid opera goers of the Academy. The death scene of the fifth act was an idyl and a dramatic and melodic poem that is rarely seen on the operatic stage. The company also proved satisfactory, especially in the case of Mlle. Leveilli and Signor Abrugnedo. The Inez of the former and the Vasco di Gama of the latter were genuine artistic triumphs. Great care seems to have been taken with the chorus and orchestra, and there was a perceptible will and earnestness productive of excellent results about both of these departments. Altogether it was a very promising opening night. ‘L’Africaine’ is an opera which is very difficult to handle in its stage details, and when the rôles of Selika, Vasco and Nelusko are taken from it the rest of the characters and the sensational scenes are not calculated to inspire interest. Meyerbeer bestowed more attention in the creation of this work than he did on any of his other operas, and marks of excessive labor are constantly apparent. But the Selika of Mme. Lucca is an inspired feature in the work which must always make it interesting with her as the heroine. Signor Abrugnedo, the Spanish tenor di forza of the troupe, achieved a notable success in one of the most trying rôles in the operatic rèpertoire. Mlle. Leveilli, who was the leading prima donna of Alhaza’s opera troupe in New Orleans for an entire season, was another genuine success in the rôle of Inez last evening.

The interest taken by the New York public in music this season cannot be overestimated. We have the cream of the European opera houses and concert halls here. There is Rubinstein, who ranks first in the world as a pianist since Liszt quitted the field and since the early demise of poor Tausig, and who, as a composer, may be placed beside the great Wagner; Wieniawski, who acknowledges only one rival on the violin, Joachim; Theodore Thomas, our own apostle of music, whose orchestra stands unrivalled in America and unexcelled in Europe; and now Pauline Lucca, the favorite of the public in Italian opera everywhere. That music is fast becoming an indispensable attribute of polite society is evident from the liberal patronage bestowed upon these artists and the number of conservatories of music springing up in every part of the city. The piano manufacturers—and they form a brigade in themselves—find it difficult to supply all their orders. A family, nowadays, consider that there is a very essential article of furniture and enjoyment wanting in the absence of a piano. But, with all this great desire for music on the part of the public, it is the province of the critic to see that it is well directed. Therefore artists, instrumental or vocal, who now court the patronage of the American people must pass through a severe ordeal before they become permanent favorites. The time has gone by when a mere name could create a furor. The audience at the Academy of Music may be attracted by the interest and curiosity attached to a great name, but they are very chary of their applause and enthusiasm until they are satisfied from their own judgment of the justice of the claims of any artist to fame. Hence the solid grounds on which the merits of Mme. Lucca are founded. She placed herself last evening as a candidate before the metropolitan public, and by the sheer force of talent, independent of European renown, she won her way to their hearts and became at once a favorite in New York, as she has been long the reigning queen of the lyric stage in Europe. [Announcement of forthcoming performances on Wednesday and Friday] Altogether the season has opened auspiciously, and we trust that the management will continue to carry it through successfully to the end.”

21)
Review: New-York Daily Tribune, 01 October 1872, 8.

“The opening of the opera season was celebrated last night by a brilliant audience, crowding the Academy to the point of discomfort, and filled with hospitable feelings toward the prima donna who, after so many preliminary flourishes, was to make her first appearance in America. That the debut of Madame Lucca was successful everybody will take as a matter of course; but that the part of Selika in ‘L’Africaine’ is the one in which she most captivates mankind is not so certain. The story printed on the programmes that Meyerbeer selected her for the rôle when the opera was first produced in Paris, and only accepted Madame Sasse as a substitute because the King of Prussia would not allow Lucca to leave Berlin, and that the composer would not allow ‘L’Africaine’ to be performed in London except with Lucca for the heroine, is a little fiction of the management. ‘L’Africaine’ never was performed anywhere during Meyerbeer’s lifetime,--was indeed left incomplete, and the late Mr. Fetis prepared it for the stage from a great mass of the composer’s undigested manuscript. The ideal Selika requires certain elements of grandeur which Lucca apparently does not possess. The charming and beautiful artist, who conquered New York by her face, before she had sung a note, gains her general laurels probably by qualities far different from those of greatness. Piquant and winning in her ways, quick in her impulses, woman in passion, tender and womanly in feeling, and unfailing in her intelligence, she has nearly all the best gifts of an actress; but her bright sunny nature has not made for sublime and commanding roles. Hence, fine as her personation was last night, and despite the impressiveness of her two principal scenes, the duet with Vasco in Act IV, and the death passage at the end of the opera, we missed something, in lack of which the effort just fell short of greatness. Her Margherita tomorrow we dare say will be much grander, and in comedy characters she must be inimitable. Of her rank as a vocalist, Selika hardly qualifies the critic to speak decidedly, but so far as her acquirements were tested last night they seemed to be all that report had painted them. Her voice is rich, strong, and true, full of warmth and sympathy without being phenomenally brilliant, a little sharp in the upper register, yet without the harsh tone, and with some note of an indescribably touching quality; a grand and magnificent voice that would be a fortune alone, even without the fascinations that accompany it. Finally her gifts are regulated by a fine dramatic instinct which never lets her overstep the proprieties of the scene, and never allows her to sacrifice the situation for the sake of a round of applause or a recall. In the last scene especially this artistic restraint was admirable.

Of the rest of the company we can spare time at this late hour for only a brief mention. Sig. Abrugnedo, the Vasco of the evening, was reasonably successful, and has good points that will be appreciated better thereafter. In style he is a tenore robusto, but he has not a robust voice, his tones being reedy and produced from the head, and lacking entirely that vibrating quality so highly valued in singers like Wachtel. Yet his voice is pleasant, if not strong, and his culture, if not of the highest order, is certainly more than passable. The Inez of Madame Levielli was excellent in execution, though the lady has a rather sharp voice. The new baritone, Moriami, made of Nelusko a grotesque and unpleasant extortionist. He has neither an agreeable voice nor a good method. M. Jamet, who is always welcome, reappeared as Don Pedro. The rest of the characters call for no special remark; and the chorus, scenery, and appointments were about what they have always been. There is little change in the appearance of the auditorium and no perceptible change on the stage, unless we except a new Manzanilla tree. The ship scene was shabby in the extreme.

The audience, lukewarm through the first three acts, became enthusiastic during the fourth, and at the end of the fifth Madam Lucca was recalled several times with [every?] demonstration of delight.”

22)
Review: New York Post, 01 October 1872, 2.

“Crowded from parquet to amphitheatre, the Academy of Music last evening bespoke emphatically the fondness for Italian opera, which has become greater and greater of late years with the people of New York. The world of fashion was there in many of its most brilliant representatives, but the world of fashion never yet sustained an opera, and Mr. Maretzek could not but have looked with the liveliest satisfaction upon the densely-filled rows of seats and aisles, where the musical culture and aesthetic taste of the city were to be seen in force. 

A new claimant for public favor could not have had a more enthusiastic reception than was accorded to Mme. Pauline Lucca in ‘L’Africaine.’ The warmth of her first greeting, before one pearl of melody had fallen from her lips, knew no abatement throughout the opera, but rather grew more intense, as the lyric passion deepened, until at last it descended upon the fair artist in a rein of flowers, not the ‘premeditated impromptus’ that had been ordered for the purpose of the florist, but bouquets thrown from a momentary impulse of genuine admiration, that could not be controlled. The introduction of an elaborate ship of floral work after this spontaneous offering was felt to be out taste; and we may here notice with approval that Mr. Maretzek has prohibited the ushers from taking flower-pieces through the house to the footlights during the performance. 

Though Madame Lucca’s name is associated in a peculiar manner with ‘L’Africaine,’ it may be doubted if this was the opera in which she would have made the most favorable first impression on the American public. We do not say the opera best suited to her talents, for surely there was no scene or passage to which she did not seem equal in the rendering of the music or the interpretation of the dramatic purpose. But ‘L’Africaine’ is a spectacular opera, with a diversified interest, lacking, perhaps from the incomplete and fragmentary state in which it was left by Meyerbeer, that unity of design and pervasive oneness of sentiment that mark other operas that Madame Luccca has made her own. If we say, too, that at times she seemed wanting in the physical energy that is demanded in the barbaric queen, it is only another form of saying that Madame Lucca’s stature is not sufficiently heroic for the grandeur of the part. Certain it is, however, that from the moment of her appearance before the Court of the Acquisition to the finale beneath the deadly Upas, she subordinated all things else in the opera to the force and frenzy of her passion, and was the one dominant sentiment alike of the drama and the music. Never forgetting that she was Selika, conscientious of every  note and attitude, and carried forward by a certain modest confidence in her own wonderful powers, Mme. Lucca produced the highest effects by seeming not to aim at them, and swayed the audience at will by appearing not to think of them at all.

Madame Lucca’s voice is full, rich, warm, sympathetic, with wonderful sweetness and tenderness in the middle notes, and a flawless transparency in the higher ones; a voice which no lover of music can afford not to hear as one of the most delicious of our time. Of her many triumphs of last evening, the ‘Addio’ duet, at the close of the second act, and the mournfully-impressive death-scene under the Manzilla tree were, perhaps, among the most remarkable.

The new tenor, Signor Abrugnedo, sings smoothly and intelligently, and was more effective in the later than the earlier passages of the opera. It is a trivial matter, that lies without the range of artistic criticism, possibly, but in an opera brought upon the stage with careful attention to scenic requirements and with a lavish outlay in details, Vasco di Gama might have been allowed one change of costume. The dress in which the intrepid navigator appeared in the first act he could hardly have worn without a rent or soil through shipwreck and naval battle, during a period of many months or years.

Signor Moriami as Nelusko was a little grotesque in action, but betrayed powers that will render him a valuable and acceptable member of the company. Mme. Levielli betrayed a voice not remarkable for freshness, but under fine cultivation and equal to any emergency of her part. Signor Jamet is always good. 

From the success of ‘L’Africaine’ the opera-goers and Messrs. Jarrett and Maretzek may both be congratulated in turn on the auspicious opening of a season that promises to delight the public and reward the management.”

23)
Review: New York Sun, 01 October 1872, 1.

“One by one the great prima donnas, whose transatlantic fame is so familiar, take their places on the stage of the Academy of Music. 

The latest comer, she who made her appearance last evening, is one of the most fascinating, versatile, and talented of all the European sopranos. In Germany they incline to believe that there is none to be compared to her. But though every city has its favorite, and though Madame Lucca is a Viennese by birth and a Berlinese by adoption, and finds in this latter capital her most ardent admirers, still there is not an audience in Europe that does not listen to her with pleasure, nor an opera house upon whose stage she is not more than welcome.

But Madame Lucca, charming as she is, does not fortunately constitute alone the company. It has finally come to be understood both by managers and public that a single star of the first magnitude surrounded by half a dozen of the fourth and a little nebulae of chorus singers does not make up an all-sufficient operatic constellation.

The directors have gathered together a really admirable company of artists. The chorus is large, the orchestra sufficient, the subsidiary parts well filled and there is every indication of a season that will be pleasant for the public and prosperous for the managers.

‘L’Africaine,’ the opera that Madame Lucca selected for her debut, is one with which she is more closely identified than is any other singer. Meyerbeer always took a strong interest in her professional career, and in composing the music for the rôle of Selika had her capacities in mind. To her he entrusted the principal rôle, on which the success or failure of his work so greatly depended, on the occasions of the first representations of the opera at Berlin and London. And since then Madame Lucca has found no rival in the character.

Her welcome here last evening was as warm as she could have desired. At her entrance she was received with fervor, and the applause grew more earnest and hearty as the opera progressed, efflorescing in unskillfully thrown bouquets at the ends of the acts, and reaching its climax at the close of the opera.

The impression that Madam Lucca produced upon her audience was beyond question a very favorable one. It would be ungracious to compare her with the great prima donnas who have preceded her. She has her own methods, and addresses her audience after her own fashion.

Just as singers are of different temperaments, so are their hearers, and so it happened that many who would find Nilsson cold, colorless, or unsympathetic would receive the highest pleasure from Madame Lucca’s intensity and fire. If a comparison might be so far tolerated between our late prima donna and our present one, it might be said by way of illustration that Nilsson’s singing stood in relation to Lucca’s as the pure white light of the diamond to the warmth and lustre of the ruby.

She is eminently an emotional singer and has a natural dramatic genius. Though small in person, her dignity and grace of manner give her an elegant stage presence. The first impression that one receives from her singing is that her voice is unexpectedly large and resonant and not specially sympathetic in quality, and that her reputation must have been gained rather from the rare combination of the actress and the singer, than from any marvelous qualities of the voice. But the opera may in part be responsible for this impression. Fully recognizing Meyerbeer’s immense talent, and the labor and patience that have made his operas a mine of melodic wealth, we still greatly doubt if they set a prima donna before the public in the best light. And Madame Lucca will, we believe, receive warmer public appreciation in some work of greater inspiration, and appealing more heartily and less intellectually to the hearer.

Of the other singers we can speak but briefly. Signor Abrugnedo, the new tenor, is somewhat of a disappointment. Signor Moriami, the baritone, is a very superior artist, an actor of fine ability and a singer of great purity of style and with an exceedingly beautiful quality of voice. M. Jamet is sufficiently well known. Whatever he did during his connection with the Nilsson company was well and worthily done. His disguise was so complete last evening that the audience failed to recognize him when he appeared, or to give him that greeting that he so warmly deserves.

In Mme. Levielle the company possesses a singer of exceptional gifts.” [reprinted Dwight's Journal of Music 10/19/72, p. 325]

24)
Article: New-York Times, 01 October 1872, 4.

Reason to believe that management’s promises for the forthcoming season will be fulfilled; readiness with which the public has subscribed.

25)
Review: New York Herald, 07 October 1872, 7.

“The races at Jerome Park, probably, interfered with the attendance at the matinée of ‘L’Africaine’ on Saturday last at the Academy, for although the orchestra stalls and dress circle were filled, the boxes and amphitheatre were not. The opera was ‘L’Africaine,’ in which Mme. Pauline Lucca made her debut, and her Selika was, if possible, grander and more impressive than ever. The little lady has had the good sense to guard her dainty throat against the treacherous and fickle weather that signalizes the present Autumn, and it would be well if members of her company would follow her example. When both thermometer and barometer indulge in the most fanciful and unexpected antics every hour of the day, it behooves singers to be more than ordinarily careful. Tenors should take this lesson particularly to heart, as their throats are susceptible of every change in temperature. 

Now, at the last matinée Señor Abrugnedo, the Spanish tenor, seemed to forget all about the weather and also to forget that the rôle of Vasco di Gama is one of the most trying in the entire range of opera. Consequently he came on the stage hoarse and did not sing as he should. In the grand duet of the fourth act, which has only a parallel in the duo of Valentine and Raoul in ‘Les Huguenots,’ Madame Lucca had to bear the brunt and right nobly she did it too. This scene alone would be sufficient to stamp her as the greatest dramatic singer living. In the Mancanilla scene she again achieved a success by her intensity of passion and abandon. Judging from the two impersonations of the same character, we can readily believe the assertion made in Europe by her admirers, that she never plays the same rôle twice in the same manner. She is the true child of genius, unfettered by any artificial rules and she enters into the spirit of a rôle with such earnestness that she does not know herself in what manner she may interpret each scene.

Signor Moriami has a very good baritone voice, but his acting is entirely too prononcé. Were he to take a lesson from that excellent artist, Jamet, who is an accomplished actor, he would avoid everything approaching harlequinade and gymnastics. Nelusko is a wild, savage warrior, it is true, but then there is no necessity in making him a votary of Terpsichore. Moriami’s voice, with moderate action, can always make an impression in the rôle.”

26)
Review: New York Clipper, 12 October 1872, 222.

“Madame Lucca made her American debut at the Academy of Music, on Monday night, Sept. 30th, as Selika, in ‘L’Africaine.’ The house was crowded in every part, for the little songster and her ‘wonderful achievement’ have been worked up in orthodox manner, and there was considerable curiosity to see and hear the new comer. She does not seem to have come up to expectations, however, and her Selika was somewhat of a disappointment to those who ‘read up’ the sketches of her life and musical abilities. Signor Abrugnedo, also new to our boards, assumed the role of Vasco di Gama, but he failed to awaken any enthusiasm, and may be set down as a fair second rater. M. Jamet was the Don Pedro, and Jeminy met with much favor in the part. Moriami’s Nelusko, and Madame Leoni Lavielle’s Inez were well tendered. The chorus was mediocre, and the scenery has seen better days.”

27)
Review: Dwight's Journal of Music, 19 October 1872, 321.

“New York, Oct. 14—The long anticipated debut of Pauline Lucca took place at the Academy of Music, on Monday evening, Sept. 30, and the house was well filled by an audience which seemed determined to give the new prima donna a welcome that should cause her to forget that she is in a strange land. The opera was L’Africaine, a work with which she is supposed to be identified to an extent which, considering its somber character and her unfitness for the role of Selika is certainly extraordinary. If the management and sundry paragraphs are to be credited she is the only Selika, and Meyerbeer would have no other; but I think any impartial critic would say that Mme. Marie Sass, of the Grand Opera in Paris, has achieved an artistic success in that role which Mme. Lucca did not approach on Monday evening, and to which she cannot attain. But her disqualifications, be it understood, are natural and do not arise from any light sense of the requirements of the situation. The music she sang earnestly and with classical simplicity. Her voice is an excellent mezzo-soprano, broad, powerful and sympathetic, beautiful in the middle range, but a little disappointing in some of the high notes. The impression left by her appearance in L’Africaine was that of a really great singer, but one whose genius seemed better fitted for a Zerlina or a Cherubino than for Meyerbeer’s passionate and gloomy heroine. The cast was distributed as follows [see above]. The names of Jamet and Lyall are already well known to us as associated with some excellent impersonations last winter in Faust and Mignon. Of the others, the tenor, Signor Abrugnedo, made a favorable impression, and is evidently a conscientious artist. Mme. Levielle as Inez, and Sig. Moriami as Nelusko were well received. The Chorus, of course, was heart-rending, and the orchestra no better than it should be. The ship scene, that pons asinorum of all managers, was the best which has been produced in America, but that is saying very little.”