Maretzek Italian Opera: Mignon

“’Mignon’ was repeated at the Academy of Music last evening. The familiar pieces were greeted with the usual warmth, and Mme. Lucca’s verses, ‘Io conosco un fanciuli,’ were not only redemanded, but just escaped a third rehearsal.” 

“The repetition of Thomas’ opera at the Academy last night was tolerably successful on the whole. With two such artists as Lucca and Kellogg in the principal female rôles the public receives as much as managers in these beggarly managerial days are in the habit of giving. The opera is very far from being a masterpiece, just in proportion as the composer is far from taking rank with the great masters of song. He has his pleasing touches and his little flashes that look like the true inspiration, but are not. The libretto is rubbishy, as librettos generally are. The story is improbable, but romantic, and only in the last act reaches anything like dramatic force, and then by the time-honored recognition between father and child which has passed into a byword of burlesque. There is no necessity, in looking at last night’s performance, to tread the delicate ground of comparison between the Mignon of the two seasons gone and the Mignon of the present. It is, nevertheless, something which wanders tantalizingly through the brains of the veteran opera-goers, and bushels of wisdom have been wasted on the subject in the corridors of the Academy. Nilsson and Lucca, of course, have found their partisans, each as fierce and dogmatic as the ‘authority on music’ always insists on making himself. The fact is that Mignon in New York has been a means whereby two great artists have been crammed into a very inferior part, and there are occasions in it when to obtrude a special merit is to still further distort a character already out of the order of naturalness. This salient fact is one which your partisan habitually ignores. Mme. Lucca brings to the part dramatically, her intensity, which, except in the scene we have mentioned in the last act, has no opportunity for its display, and there she makes the most of it. The concerted piece in the first act was very well rendered, and Mignon’s little prayer, ‘Santa Virgine Maria,’ brought forth all the full, rich tones of her lower notes that dwell so in the memory. In the second act the capriciousness, ‘Conosco un Zingarello,’ exhibiting somewhat her skill in roulades, was very charmingly rendered and brought a recall. Unfortunately, if we except the solo in the park scene, which Lucca gave with power, the striking opportunities for vocal display go no further. The cast has one great advantage over that of the Nilsson season in the possession of Miss Kellogg as Filina. It is a part, oddly enough, that does not call for much acting, although it is the part of an actress. Miss Kellogg has only to sing a couple of arias and some bits of recitative. For the rest it is merely necessary to look pretty and act without sympathy. She succeeded in these requirements without difficulty. Her polonaise in the third act was a fine piece of vocalization in her best method, and received a deserved encore. Vizzani was in better voice than usual last night. Jamet was, as usual, conscientious.”

“In the latter [Mignon], Miss Kellogg has been heard to great and increased advantage, and her singing of the famous polonaise is more admired with each repetition.”

“Lucca and Kellogg were again combined in the cast of ‘Mignon’ at the Academy matinée yesterday. The audience was very large, and, although not very demonstrative, recognized all the good points—Lucca’s Styrienne and Kellogg’s Polonaise each eliciting encores.”  

“The matinée on Saturday at the Academy of Music was one of the most brilliant successes of the season, both as far as the audience and the performance are concerned. It was one of the most numerous assemblages, and the receipts surpassed those of any matinée given for a great while. This is all the more gratifying, as ‘Mignon’ is by no means a novelty for the American public, and as there was every reason to fear that the Lenten season would prevent the public from attending at the Academy. The performance, of course, was most satisfactory from the fact that everyone knew his part thoroughly, and the usual encores were awarded to Madame Lucca for her [‘illegible’] manner of singing the ‘Styrienne,’ and to Miss Kellogg for her dashing and brilliant delivery of the famous ‘Polonaise.’”