Maretzek Italian Opera: Le Nozze di Figaro

“The performance of ‘Le Nozze di Figaro,’ was witnessed by an overflowing audience at the Academy of Music, yesterday. Most of the numbers of the opera have, of late, been recited, time and again in the concert-room, but we are not aware that the Italian version, in its entirety, has been done in this City for many years. The well-known pieces are as fresh and delightful as ever; the recitatives, already much reduced in length when compared with the score, might, with all respect for Mozart, be further shortened without injury to the impression of the work. Cherubino’s part is, indeed, the only one whereof the brevity is to be regretted. But it is not given us every night to have a songstress and an actress like Mme. Pauline Lucca in the role, and hereafter we doubt not that in her absence it will be found sufficiently long with the best of performers. To say that Mme. Lucca made of Cherubino the most prominent character in the opera is only to admit that the artist’s position in the announcements was, as usual, the one to which her gifts and talent entitle her. Mme. Lucca sang the two airs—‘Non so più cosa son,’ in which the page describes his new-born sensations, and ‘Voi che sapete,’ with infinite expression and charm; and while the first-named song was much applauded, the artist, after executing the latter twice, only escaped a third recital by a firm determination not to comply with the request. In point of acting, the Cherubino of the occasion was all that could be desired; Mlle. Déjuzet herself could not wear the garb of the juvenile Don Juan with greater crânerie, nor outdo Mme. Lucca’s vivaciousness in the scene with Susanna, in act the first. In the third act, in which the lady was least concerned, a recall of the singers was considered to have had no response, until Mme. Lucca, who had been missed from the stage for some minutes, reappeared before the curtain. Miss Kellogg sang Susanna with the surety and finish observable in all the lady’s efforts, and won repeated evidences of appreciation, fully deserved by the successful execution of an exacting task. Mme. Levielli was the Countess; her duet with Miss Kellogg, commencing ‘Sull aria’ was repeated. The other members of Mr. Maretzek’s company engaged in the representation were Signor Moriami, who was a sprightly Figaro in point of stage-business, and as precise a singer as the most difficult passages of the score can ever have; Signor Sparapani, who embodied Count Almaviva; Signor Ronconi, an ever-humorous Bartolo; and Mr. Lyall, an excellent Basilio. Mr. G. Carlberg conducted the orchestra zealously and firmly.”

“’The Marriage of Figaro’ is one of the rare examples in literature of a sequel more brilliant and more successful than the original work which it was written to continue. When Beaumarchais produced his ‘Barber of Seville,’ about a hundred years ago, he placed himself by one bound at the front of contemporary writers for the French stage, redeeming the dullness of his earlier plays, and giving to the world one of those sprightly and delicate comedies whose freshness seems perennial. Nine years later he took the same delightful characters again and showed them to us changed a little by the lapse of time, but changed exactly as in nature such people ought to have changed. The pert, pretty, mischievous Rosina has become in the later comedy a proper and yet vivacious Countess, in whom a few years have not extinguished the spirit of intrigue and the relish for fun. Almaviva has grown to be precisely such a husband as one might have sworn he would be—a seasoned gallant, in whose breast the flames of amorous adventure still burn too brightly to be satisfied with domestic joys, who loves his charming wife as well as ever, but is not too strict for a little flirtation with her maid. And Figaro, how naturally and pleasantly he too has ripened! The gay, good-natured, shrewd, kind-hearted Barber has gone into the service of the Count whom he helped to carry off a wife, and in his maturer days he pursues on his own account the enticing objects which he once hunted for other people. It was fitting that he should be vexed now with some of the perplexities which in his earlier time he delighted in creating. Through all his troubles, however, shines the bright humor and quick spirit which made him of old the most exhilarating of companions, and he keeps also the substantial excellence of purpose which raised him so far above the character of a mere intriguer. The [illegible] of Bartolo and the malice of Basilio are qualities that only grow stronger with age; in them we find no change, and yet they are introduced with sufficient variety of circumstance. Two new characters are created: the pretty maid Susanna, whose vivacity is just a little subdued by her love for Figaro; and the fascinating little page, Cherubino, the most winsome of all pages in the modern drama.

Such was ‘Le Marriage de Figaro’ when Beaumarchais, at the height of his extraordinary career, brought it out in [illegible] in the midst of the wildest excitement. Louis XVI had declared that it should never be performed during his reign; but people were learning to laugh at royal prohibitions in those days, and the comedy was played in Paris before multitudes of ladies and gentlemen of high degree, who fought for places, and besieged the doors of the theater from early morn til evening. We boast now-a-days of a ‘run’ of a hundred nights; but ‘Le Marriage de Figaro’ ran for two years. It was in the first flush of its success when Mozart proposed to use it for an opera. Da Ponte, the same who afterward wrote the libretto of ‘Don Giovanni,’ adapted the text, and the music was written in six weeks. The difficulties which beset Beaumarchais did not spare the composer. The play had been forbidden in Vienna, where Mozart was then established, and it was not without some trouble that the imperial license was obtained for the production of the opera, greatly as the plot and dialogue had been modified for the adaptation. At the first performance, in May 1786, the singers, inspired by one of the musical claques which looked upon Mozart as a pestilent pretender, tried to damn the opera by singing out of tune. But in spite of all, the work made its way. Taken from the stage at Vienna, after nine triumphant representations, the composer went with it to Prague, where it ran a whole Winter. [Historical sketch continues for the remainder of this and the next paragraph].

The small part of Barbarina was omitted. The weakness of the cast was first in the Countess, whose sharp voice spoiled a great deal of beautiful music; secondly, in the Almaviva of Sig. Sparapani; thirdly, and perhaps principally, in the Figaro of Sig. Moriami, who, having a baritone voice, and not much even of that, was assigned music written for a genuine bass. Unfortunately, Figaro is the most prominent character in the opera, and though Sig. Moriami acted it well, we must confess that we grew tired of him long before the evening was over. Mrs. Schofield had altogether too much to sing, and Ronconi and Lyall, who were both amusing, too little opportunity for acting to do themselves justice. As usual, the chorus was abominable, and the representation lacked the smoothness and spirit which are only obtained by careful rehearsals under an experienced and conscientious leader, and by a judicious balance of parts. A great deal of the life of the most entertaining of operas was lost by the little imperfections which careless managers are so ready to overlook and critics so slow to mention. But there still remained enough strength in the Susanna and Cherubino to save the fortunes of the night. Miss Kellogg was admirable in the role of the maid. Her action was easy, piquant, comical, and well sustained. She helped Mlle. Levielli so bravely through the Zephyr duet that a repeat was vigorously demanded; she had a capital scene with Cherubino, during the operation of disguising the lad in the second act; and her ‘Deh vieni non tardar’ was by far the best piece of vocalism heard during the evening. All the beauties of her voice, the sweet simplicity of her best style, and the true sentiment which she knows how to express when she pleases, were displayed to illustrate this beautiful song. Madame Lucca’s Cherubino is a fresh conception, entirely unlike the conventional page of the lyric drama, and entirely unlike every other character she has yet represented in New-York. It is not a woman masquerading in lad’s clothes, but a genuine full-blooded, noisy boy. It is irresistibly laughable, and yet not altogether satisfying. She stalks about the stage, rubbing her hands, and crooking her neck, and enjoying the fun; and if she does us the honor to think in English, we presume she is mentally exclaiming all the while ‘What larks!’ But the music—ah, that is a different matter. She sang the ‘Voi che sapete’ indeed with so much feeling that the house burst into enthusiastic plaudits; but for the rest she did not seem to care much. She sacrificed entirely the ‘Non so piu cosa’ to the dramatic suggestions of the text, giving us a superb declamation of the words of Sig. Da Ponte, without a particle of the spirit of Mozart. This is a fault however for which the majority of the public will not judge her harshly, and Cherubino will be ranked with her chief successes. The opera was very little cut except in the Fourth Act, about half of which was left out. The omission was judicious, and some further cuts might be made to advantage, considering how poorly certain parts of the work are sung.”

“No more lovely opera has been or will be given this season than Mozart’s ‘Marriage of Figaro.’ Beaumarchais’ comedy is itself a work of high dramatic art, abounding in humorous situations and pointed dialogue; and Da Ponte made a much better libretto from it than he did from the adventures of ‘Don Giovanni.’ Like that opera it requires a very strong cast, for the music exacts much from even those who fill the lesser rôles.

On the whole, the present performance is a very fair one. It is a delight to hear Mozart’s beautiful music, even though it is not wholly well rendered. The solo parts, however, are well cast.

Mme. Lucca is not more charming in any character that she has thus far assumed than in Cherubino, and Miss Kellogg has already established a reputation in the character of Susanna, which at Covent Garden last summer, singing in connection with Nilsson and Tietjens, she gave in so satisfactory a manner as to win for her universal esteem. The concerted parts were somewhat crudely done, the lack of sufficient rehearsals being quite evident. In fact, while the solos, as a rule, were well sung, the more the voices were multiplied the more defective was the performance. Mme. Levielli, the third of the prima donnas, proved a most competent Countess. She is an excellent singer, and was received with much favor. A large audience was present.”

“The production of the ‘Nozze di Figaro’ at the Academy last evening may be said to have been the brilliant success of the season, and the management may be fairly congratulated on the happy manner in which it has brought out one of the most difficult of all the lyrical dramas that have ever driven an impresario to his wit’s end. Mozart was in his happiest mood when he wrote the ‘Marriage of Figaro,’ which was the marriage to music of Beaumarchais’s delightful comedy and though the greater part of a century has passed by since it was first sung and acted (it was in Vienna and history tells us that several of the artists probably sang false in the interest of Mozart’s enemies), there is no musical score more delicious, no succession of stage situations more charmingly comic, than we have in ‘Le Nozze.’ A perennial freshness, a sustained effervescence belongs to the music, which sparkles and bubbles up, and exhilarates, too, like champagne, while the constantly increasing perplexities of the plot are infinitely amusing. Madame Lucca as Cherubino, the page, was well nigh perfect. She looked, acted, sang superbly, communicating her animal spirits to the rest of the corps operatique and to the audience, and producing the impression that she is greatest of all in this not very important but most agreeable part, and that Beaumarchais and Mozart must have foreseen her almost a hundred years in the future when they conceived the dramatic character and the music that was to fascinate us from her lips. Miss Kellogg was great as Susanna, the maid, and both in her singing and acting won the highest triumphs. Indeed, it is not certain that she did not surpass any of her previous efforts on the boards of the Academy, and without her ‘Le Nozze di Figaro’ could not have been produced at all with the present company. The Countess, sustained by Mlle. Levielli, was accurate as to musical rendering, but wanting in sweetness of voice, and indicating an organ that had been worn by too constant a strain upon it in former seasons. There is no need of saying anything of the rest of the performers, except that they appeared to uncommon advantage and their defects were less distressing to the old opera-goer than never before during the season. In a word, the ‘Nozze’ was so brilliant a demonstration in a general way, and the effect was so undeniably happy upon the immense audience that heard it, that the management cannot err in repeating it at an early day.”

“Mozart’s lovely work, in which all the tenderness and gentle grace that characterized the mind of the amiable composer are set forth as in a mirror of melody, is as trying a test of the strength of an operatic company as ‘Don Giovanni.’ No rôle in either opera is insignificant; and to fill the cast, in order to give a smooth, agreeable performance, demands such an assemblage of artists as few companies can boast of. Susanna, the intriguing maid, has had many representatives from the highest walks of lyric art. Persiani, Bosio and Piccolomini might be mentioned among them. It is as trying, although in an entirely different line, for a prima donna as many of those tragic rôles which artists say rend the voice to pieces. Not that it lies outside of reasonable vocal limits, but it demands a thorough knowledge of music, a keen appreciation of and entire sympathy with the pure, elegant school of the most genial of composers and a self-possession, resulting from an intimate acquaintance with Mozart’s music. The rôle of the Countess also makes a large levy on the experience and musical education of the artist entrusted with it. Then for the most fascinating of all Mozart’s rôles, the provoking, delightful little page, Cherubino, we look for a comedienne as well as singer who can give the part all the sparkle and brilliancy which is its due. Around these three ladies are grouped a number of characters that call for great histrionic as well as vocal excellence. The concerted music must be sung without a blemish, else it becomes unintelligible. Rossini and Mozart have illustrated the amusing story of Beaumarchais each in his peculiar manner, and the German composer has made his work the masterpiece of comic opera. Seville and the chateau of Aguas Frescas will be remembered while music sways the human mind.

The Cherubino of Mme. Lucca more than fulfilled the high expectations formed of it. In the escapades of the tantalizing page she revealed a wealth of comic power for which her impersonations of the two Zerlinas had partly prepared her admirers. With the most fascinating humor and gayety she united the grace and finish of the accomplished artist. Her singing was still more attractive than even her acting. It is very doubtful if ever the well known ‘Voi che sapete’ received such a delightful rendering in this country before. Again, in the aria, ‘Non so più cosa son,’ of the first act, and in the duet with Susanna, ‘Aprite, questo aprite,’ Madame Lucca crowned herself with fresh laurels. She was called out repeatedly, even when she experienced considerable difficulty in leaving her dressing room in presentable attire. Miss Kellogg is entitled to high praise for her intelligent and spirited rendering of the rôle of Susanna. She was enthusiastically encored in the aria, ‘Deh vieni, non tardar,’ and in the letter duet with the Countess. With the memory of great and commanding representatives of this rôle in our mind, we must say that Miss Kellogg filled all its requirements.

Madame Leveille was a very pleasant representative of the Countess. Her acting and singing evidence an experienced and tried artist. Her voice, however, shows the inevitable signs of being overworked in the operatic harness—not this season to be sure, but in former years. One result of this is an unfortunate tendency to sing flat, which marred her otherwise beautiful rendering of the aria, ‘Porgi amor.’ After the ladies there is little to be said of the rest of the cast. Sparapani did better as the Count than in any other rôle he has yet appeared in, and if he would only cease forcing his voice and thereby singing sharp he would be a welcome addition to any of the casts of the present season. Moriami failed to give anything like a correct idea of the rôle of Figaro, and it became a nullity in his hands. The others are not worth speaking of in detail. Mr. Carlberg conducted the orchestra, and he seems to have taken a salutary lesson from our previous remarks on his leadership, for there was a marked improvement over the performance of ‘Don Giovanni.’ In some instances, however, he hurled the entire force of the orchestra against the singers on the stage, completely extinguishing their voices. In one instance this mode of procedure was judicious. In the celebrated sestet the music was entirely beyond the reach of the singers, and it was perhaps as well that the orchestra covered up minor deficiencies. The operas of Mozart are too exacting in their demands for finish in every vocal detail for the Italian opera companies of the present day, so that when there is a predominance of what is really good in a representation we suppose it is necessary to be contented.”