Strakosch Italian Opera: Lucrezia Borgia

“Mr. Strakosch brought three new singers before the public last evening, and a fourth and a favorite one in a new rôle. Those who appeared for the first time in this country were Signor Campanini, Mlle. Maresi, and Signor Nannetti, while Miss Cary assumed a rôle in which she had not before sung—that of Maffio Orsini.

 

Signor Campanini is an artist who has not been long before the public. He was first brought prominently into public notice by the part that he took in the performance of Wagner’s Lohengrin in Bologna, and the good report of his singing spreading abroad he was speedily engaged for the London operatic stage, and was received with the greatest favor in that city. From the result of last evening’s performance there is every reason to believe that equal favor will attend him here. He is not a man of very prepossessing appearance, nor is he one to take an audience by storm. His voice is neither very large nor very sonorous. He did not save himself up for a whole act to make an exceptional effect with a burst of power upon the last note. Nor has he any other ingenious ways of beguiling an audience into stormy applause. His merits, happily, are of a higher order. His voice is a singularly even one, equally tempered throughout, and of exceeding sweetness. Campanini uses it with good taste and discretion, not straining after effects, but preferring to sing equally well in every scene, leaving the audience to find their satisfaction in a performance symmetrical and smooth. He has high notes, but they are taken with such ease and finish as not to seem specially [sic] high. He is very careful in his method, singing always with repose and attacking his phrases with elegance—there are no rough edges to his singing. He is not so much a man to excite his audience to any wild enthusiasm as he is to delight it with the sense of a thing quietly and perfectly done. And this in our judgement is an artist of the highest class. Added to this Campanini has in his favor youth, strength, and enthusiasm, three qualities of vital advantage.

 

The audience were not slow to recognize the excellent points of this singer, and their applause must have convinced him that his position here was assured, though he will scarcely efface the remembrance of the many distinguished tenors that have preceded him, and who have assumed this rôle of Gennaro upon our stage.

 

In Mlle. Maresi we have a better alternate prima donna than is usually found in a double company of this kind. The lady has a sweet voice and manner, but her temperament does not specially [sic] fit her for tragic rôles. She has not weight, impressiveness, or dignity of carriage of breadth of style. Her singing is very accurate and pleasing, but we should suppose it better adapted to lighter operas than Lucrezia Borgia.

 

Signor Nannetti, the third of the debutants, is an actor and singer of good ability, possessing a voice of fair strength and much purity. When Mr. Strakosch brings his material together for the representation of some opera of large scope it will be seen that he has a company of great strength, capable of giving a great representation of a great work. He has it in his power to present an opera with all the subordinate parts as faithfully filled as they are on the best continental stages, and this we hope he will some day see fit to do.

 

As we have stated, Miss Cary assumed the character of Maffio Orsini for the first time. She made it an entirely successful effort, filling it to the full measure that it permits. For, though many great and distinguished singers have taken this part, it is by no means a fine one. Two airs there are, to be sure, and both of them popular, but more than that is needed to make a rôle. Of such material as it afforded, however, Miss Cary made the best use, and strengthened her already firm place in the public regard.”

“Mr. Strakosch is to be most heartily congratulated on the effect of last night’s performance at the Academy of Music. He probably knows his own business better than we do; but to the outside observer, ignorant of the perplexities and hidden plans of operatic management, it seems a pity that the brilliant début of Signor Campanini should not have added luster to the opening night of the season, instead of coming late to mend a prestige which to tell the truth was a little impaired on Monday. However that may be, there can be no question about the emphatic success of the new tenor in ‘Lucrezia Borgia,’ and if he can sustain himself at the high level of his Gennaro, we have made a most valuable acquisition. Sig. Campanini was received in a calm and critical spirit by an audience which though large and experienced was neither so crowded nor so brilliant as that of Monday. His fine stage presence and graceful bearing conciliated a great deal of favor before he had an opportunity to display his voice. He has only a few unimportant phrases to utter for the first half hour that he is on stage, and it is not until near the end of the first Act that Gennaro finds his opportunity, in the ‘Di pescatore ignobile.’ When he began this well known air the house was hushed in expectation. The first line gave us his measure. He is by far the best tenor of the real Italian school whom we have heard in New-York since Mario sang here with Grisi 18 years ago. His voice is not absolutely clear, and he delivers it too much from the throat; but its quality is simply delicious. It is a high tenor, the graceful rather than the robust order, exquisitely even, firm, pure, and musical in ever note. Better than all else, it is a truly sympathetic voice, the most so of any we can recall in a reminiscence of many years. Nothing could have been more tender, and refined, and graceful than his delivery of the opening measures of the romanza. The phrasing was beautiful. The liquid strains came forth without a break, without apparent effort; the emphasis was never faulty; the shading was refined and true. At the end he rose to a higher sort of eloquence, and brought forth a reserve of passion for which the smoothness of the first part of the song had not prepared us. In the subsequent scenes there was no falling off. The finale was perhaps the crowning achievement of the evening. In the concerted music, and especially in the famous trio of the second Act [sic], Sig. Campanini was admirable, missing none of the fine points which the composer has there allotted to the tenor, but subordinating his own parts properly to the general effect, so that we were only conscious of a soft, sweet sound pervading the scene with inimitable pathos and beauty. To his rich gifts and accomplishments as a singer, Sig. Campanini adds a decided dramatic talent. With proper care and study (he is still very young) he may easily become one of the greatest singers of our time.

 

The selection of ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ was made to accommodate the tenor, and was certainly judicious so far as he was concerned, but it compelled Mr. Strakosch to do injustice to another member of his company. Miss Alice Maresi, who made her début as Lucrezia, ought to have been heard in a very different part. She is a young lady of ability, and in light opera would probably please. Her voice is a very pure soprano, a little colorless perhaps, but for all that agreeable; her intonations are always true; her method is good; and her vocalism is excellent. We could discern in her, however, no capacity for the grand passion of a tragic heroine, and candor compels us to say that she made little of a task that was far beyond her strength. Miss Cary was the Muffio Orsini. She is always a pleasant actress and a good singer, and last night her performance satisfied everybody. The part of Alfonso fell to the new basso Sig. Nannetti. He is an artist of culture, with a good round voice, not very deep, and not extraordinarily powerful, but much better than the average, and we can honestly record for him a successful début. The opera as a whole was more carefully prepared than ‘La Traviata,’ and the men of the chorus appeared in some new dresses of unwonted splendor.

 

It is evident now that Mr. Strakosch has a quartet of artists full equal to the high position he has claimed for them in advance—and he has at least one in reserve, the baritone Maurel, from whom great things are also expected. Thus his company is by far the strongest we have had lately, and it will be strange if he do [sic] not give us with it one of the most brilliant seasons in the history of the New-York stage.” Dwight’s Journal of Music quotes this article, nearly in full, in the issue of October 18, 1873 (beginning p. 108).

“The second night of the opera season was one of peculiar interest. It brought to the notice of our public three young and successful debutants and one recognised [sic] favorite. The opera selected was one which has always been popular in this city, and around which there hang traditions of great singers who in its interpretation have won deserved celebrity. The weather last night was cool, so that all the elements of a brilliant operatic performance seemed combined.

The expectant audience was not disappointed. Last night’s rendering of ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ by the new artists of the Strakosch troupe was thoroughly enjoyable. All the singers were good, and if the ‘supreme moments’ of a Grisi or Mario were not reached they were certainly approached.

 

The chief interest of the evening centred [sic] in the new tenor, Campanini, of whom great things were expected. He is a young gentleman of good stage presence, of the Teutonic rather than the Italian cast of features, and is the possessor of a rich, smooth tenor voice, which not inaptly has been compared to that of Giuglini, though it is less powerful than the almost perfect voice of that unfortunate artist. Campanini comes from Parma—a Lombard town which has already given many notable singers to the lyric stage. Among these may be mentioned Paganini, a noted tenor (not the violinist), Coselli, who is considered the best Marino Faliero in the world; Ferri, the baritone, once so popular in this country; Superchi, the baritone for whom Verdi wrote the great part of Carlo V, in ‘Ernani’; Gardoni, the tenor, so long a favorite in the concert room in London; Calzolari, a veteran tenor, who sings exclusively in St. Petersburg; and Naudin, to-day one of the recognised [sic] leading tenors on the continental stage. Campanini is not unworthy of being added to the list. He is not a tenore robusto, as some had been led to expect, and does not indulge in the high C of the period; but his performance last night was characterized by an ease and self-command that suggested a reserve power yet to be revealed. There was no straining after high notes, no effort, nothing attempted that was not achieved. The first success was in the aria Di pescatore, which at once secured an encore. It was sung very slowly, and, as it seemed to us, with a superfluity of tender emotion. The ballad is simply a narrative of the early career of the hero, and does not in itself call for the display of sentiment with which Campanini invested in it. Yet the audience were slow to detect this error, and quick to appreciate the charming voice and graceful action of the singer. In the second act Campanini made another great success in the celebrated trio where the tenor carries the melody, which has not been sung so well here since the days of Beaucardé. In the last act the new tenor showed good dramatic capabilities and made some excellent points. Altogether the verdict of the audience, which included a large professional element, was emphatically in favor of the new comer.

 

Signor Nanetti, the basso, met with similar acceptation. He has a deep, noble voice, a fine dignified bearing, and in the aria and trio of the second act fairly brought back the days of the great bassos. The applause he received was as liberal as it was deserved, and indeed there were many present who considered that Nanetti made the hit of the evening.

 

Signora Maresi, the prima donna, does not eclipse the Lucrezias of past days—the Lucrezia of Grisi, La Grange and Zucchi—but she sings and acts with intelligence, and is an engaging and attractive woman. Her execution of florid passages is better than is usually the case with dramatic sopranos. In the cabaletta to her aria in the first act she showed great vocal fluency, giving the scales and runs with which this cabaletta abounds in a style which proved excellent training. After the M’odi m’odi of the last act, she introduced a cadenza of extraordinary range, including the highest and lowest notes of her voice. Maresi was heard with pleasure, and, we think, will win even further approval in other parts.

 

Miss Cary was, of course, warmly welcomed, and sang well, being encored in the drinking song. The lady was never in better voice than last night.”

“A very delightful performance occurred at the Academy of Music last evening. The opera selected for recital was sung and acted with a completeness very rarely attained, and to the charm which a symmetrical representation exercised upon the audience was added the effectiveness of several special incidents. After mentioning that the opera in question was ‘Lucrezia Borgia,’ it will be best, perhaps, to come at once to these incidents. Three first appearances were made yesterday, and all were successful. Now that two entertainments have been given by Mr. Strakosch’s troupe, and now that his artists, save two—M. Maurel and Signora Torriani—have been introduced to the public, the impressario can fairly be congratulated upon his company. Mr. Strakosch has the material insuring [sic] a capital ensemble to any selection from his répertoire, and while his singers are all trained singers and actors, each and every one of them seems possessed of vocal gifts seldom coupled with intelligence, sensibility, and skill. On Monday night, Signor Del Puente made what is technically termed a hit. Last evening Signori Campanini and Nannetti, and Signor Maresi promptly ingratiated themselves with the audience. The début of the tenor was, naturally enough, the chief event. Signor Italo Campanini was first listened to in London two years ago, and his earliest impersonation—that of Gennaro, chosen also for his introduction here—won for him a great success. Signor Campanini has been called abroad the successor of Giuglini; his efforts, on the occasion we deal with, realized quite the anticipations this and kindred terms of praise awakened when his engagement for the United States was announced. His singing last evening was of the most enchanting kind. No such potent spell has been cast upon the spectator since Mr. Santley departed. Signor Campanini’s voice is a pure tenor, of exquisite timbre, of just sufficient power to fill the Academy without losing a tithe of its sweetness, and of even quality from the highest to the lowest note of its compass. His method is that of a thorough artist; his attack is faultless, his control over the emission of sound perfect, his phrasing excellent, and his delivery clear, fluent, and tasteful. When we supplement this summary of Signor Campanini’s qualities by a mention of his excellences as a comedian—that is to say, a manly presence, all earnestness at times, and at others an ease in repose not often noticed, save in veteran performers, (and Signor Campanini is not over thirty years of age)—we believe we have said enough to imply that his victory, which was decided, was fully merited. Signor Nannetti’s achievements got for him equally well-deserved spurs. It is many years since rich and sonorous bass tones like Signor Nannetti’s have run in the Academy, and they were sounded last night by a youthful artist endowed with an artistic temperament and a fine figure, and by one having evident familiarity with the business of the stage. As for Signor Maresi, she approved herself the possessor of a good and fresh soprano voice, the suppleness of which supplied testimony of careful training, as well as of natural pliability; and she was commended, moreover, to favor by an agreeable physique. The united labors of three singers on whom so much praise is to be honestly bestowed could not but insure [sic] the attractiveness of any performance, and the rentrée of Miss Annie Louise Cary, in the remaining rôle of the quartet, caused the rendering of ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ to be much more than satisfactory. We do not feel obliged to dwell at length upon Donizetti’s opera. The composers of the present day have far outstripped their predecessors in the management of the orchestra, and in so doing have concealed a good many of the commonplace ideas which the less elaborate writing of the older maestros fails to hide; but the power to create melody dwelt in Rossini and his contemporaries, and the fascination of their achievements is not weakened by the results of modern patience and ingenuity. Two or three of the numbers in ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ intrusted [sic] to Mr. Strakosch’s artists have this fascination about them, and it was a rare treat to listen to their suave simplicity. Signor Campanini wrought, of course, his initial and most decisive impression in the single solo air allotted to the tenor and listened to in the first act. He sang the verses commencing, ‘Di pescatore ignobile,’ in which Gennaro narrates to Lucrezia the story of his humble birth and tells of his filial obedience to the prayer of his unknown mother, with infinite purity of style and variety of expression, and the applause, in deference to which the repeated the aria—furnishing one of the most admirable specimens of cantabile execution in our memory—was loud and prolonged. The close of the same act, when Lucrezia is denounced by the relatives of her principal victims, afforded Signor Campanini an opportunity to do some animated and forcible acting, and the whole finale was interpreted with so much vigor that the call before the curtain was justly made to include all the performers. In the second act the exquisite trio, in which the tenor, soprano, and basso voices are blended with consummate art, again gave prominence to the delicious tones of Signor Campanini, and the piece was redemanded. In the third act, the histrionic work of Signor Campanini awoke positive enthusiasm, and his very dramatic utterance of

 

Cogli amici io sarò spento,

O con lor io partirò!

 

brought about a momentary interruption of proceedings. Signor Nannetti’s chance to secure applause lay in the andante and allegro in the second act, when Alfonso plans his revenge; and if the gentleman did not repeat, ‘Vieni; la mia vendetta,’ and the subsequent ‘Qualunque sia l’evento,’ it was only because—as in a previous instance—Signor Muzio kept on, regardless of the request. In the grand scene in the same act between Alfonso and Lucrezia, Signor Nannetti, it must be remarked, freighted the words assigned to him with considerable significance, and his share of this important part of the drama, which culminates in the trio cited above, was sustained with unfaltering appreciativeness and zeal. Signora Maresi’s portrayal of Lucrezia, while it disclosed in the lady the traits already referred to, was not distinguished by ‘points.’ It was a correct and artistic performance in which feeling and cleverness were plain, but in which tragic power was rather wanting. Signora Maresi, in a lighter part, will certainly be greeted as an acquisition to the lyric stage. Miss Cary was Maffio Orsini; her numerous merits have often been alluded to in these columns, and they were as apparent yesterday as ever. In the third act she had to repeat the brindisi, and the audience almost insisted upon enjoying a third hearing of the tune. We have only to round off the foregoing record with a line in relation to the creditable accompaniments of the orchestra—if we except one mishap in the first act—and to the proficiency of the chorus.”

“Italian Opera—Brilliant Success of Campanini, Maresi and Nanetti—Miss Cary’s Reappearance.

 

When eight o’clock arrived last evening the Academy of Music did not look as though an audience remarkable for brilliancy and numbers intended to be present. Any misgivings which might have been entertained, however, were speedily dissipated. By the time the overture to ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ was over almost every seat was occupied, and the usual space devoted to standees was monopolized. The occasion, as perhaps it is unnecessary to explain, was the début in America of Signor Campanini as Gennaro, of Mlle. Maresi as Lucrezia and of Signor Nannetti as Alphonso, and the reappearance of Miss Carey as Maffeo Orsini. A somewhat minute dissection of the capabilities of these singers will be found further on. The point to which we desire to refer at present is the fact that just such an operatic importation of youth has been made by Mr. Strakosch as was most needed at this time. We respect the kindness of heart which can continue to lavish applause upon a singer long after his voice has deserted him. The fault is one of those which lean so much to virtue’s side as to catch a considerable degree of virtue’s radiance. But at the same time we sympathize with the debutant of genius who stands ready to appropriate the roles which in hands that have lost their pristine power threaten to become the ghosts of their former selves. This is the kind of work which, if the promise of last night is fulfilled, signor Campanini is waiting and is qualified to perform. He is young; he has a fine presence; nature has given him a magnificent organ, which art has already done much to perfect, and, finally[,] he evinces something of that magnetic spirit which enters into the conception of sympathetic acting. London was his first step to reputation. New York will be his second. A portion of the triumph of last night was shared by Mlle. Maresi, and this circumstance entitles her to the order of congratulation we have bestowed upon Campanini. Signor Nannetti completes the trio, to whom youth and merit justify us in being particularly cordial. For of Miss Cary, in this connection, it is scarcely necessary to speak. She is as old a friend as the few years which she has sung in this country permit her to be, and the brilliancy with which she last evening emphasized her reappearance only made the bond all the closer. We might add as a point by no means undeserving of notice that ‘Lucrezia Borgia’ was placed upon the stage much more creditably than ‘La Traviata.’ There was a commendable freshness in one or two of the scenes, and the dresses were less tinselled, more picturesque and less conventional than they have been in the habit of being. The second night of opera is, therefore, to be pronounced a success in every way. It was accompanied with enough flowers and encores to lend wings to the ambition of the most aspiring singer.

 

After these few words of preparatory compliment and explanation we may make a much slower and more minute examination of their merits as artists. ‘Lucrezia Borgia,’ while exhibiting many of the worst defects of the puerile sensationalism of the modern Italian school, has an ample fund of strong ‘points,’ so to speak, by which the darkness of this episode in the blood-stained history of the Borgias becomes intensified. In this opera the strongest and most dramatic numbers are placed side by side with the weakest that may be found in the whole range of the Italian school. After the commonplace chorus that greets the audience at the rise of the curtain Miss Cary (Orsini) furnished the first vocal treat of the evening, a very pleasurable indication of the menu of rarities prepared for the occasion by Mr. Strakosch. This was the profession of devotion to Gennaro, expressed in the romanza for contralto, ‘Nella fatal di Rimini.’ Miss Cary surprised even those who admired, a couple of seasons ago, her pure, cultivated, equally-balanced and sympathetic voice by the dramatic energy with which she declaimed the words, ‘Fuggite i Borgia, o Giovanni.’ This was the first pleasurable surprised last evening, and served as a good introduction to the subsequent triumph of the tenor, basso and prima donna—we name them in the order of merit. Madame Maresi (Lucrezia Borgia) was the next claimant of the suffrages of the public. The first five notes she sang, while contemplating the sleeping Gennaro ‘Tranquillo ei posa,’ gave evidence of a clear, fresh voice with that peculiar ring in it that characterizes the ‘dramatic’ prima donna. The succeeding recitative betrayed a crudeness of method in this the most difficult branch of the lyric art. The aria, ‘Come e Bello’ was deliciously sung, and confirmed the favorable impression of the purity and freshness of the voice. In this aria there were evidences of a want of equality in color of tone between the medium and head registers, but nothing could be more satisfactory than the exquisite finish of the execution of the florid measures with which Donizetti adorns the latter part of the Cabaletta. After this came a genuine triumph for another artist.

 

The great attraction of the evening, both in anticipation and actual fulfillment, was, of course, the new tenor, Signor Italo Campanini, whose praises have long ago filled the Scala and Drury Lane. When the love-stricken Borgia awakens him and coaxes from him the story of his life, and until the first accents of the standard favorite, ‘Di Pescatore Ignobile,’ were heard the house was still as death. As he proceeded with the touching narrative and the beauties of his voice gradually became developed the conviction of his greatness as an artist grew upon his hearers. From the lowest note, F, to the highest, B flat in alt, there was not a break in the autommy [sic] of the velvety voice. ‘Une voix de velours!’ as we heard on one memorable evening at Her Majesty’s Theatre, London, at the début of Signor Gigulini, in 1856, in the same rôle, was the expression applied to the exquisite organ that lent a new charm to the sweet Donizettian aria last evening. For the first time in many years at the Academy of Music was heard a tenor who could produce diminuendo or crescendo in the highest di petto notes with ease and effect. In the succeeding denunciation of the historic poisoner by Orsini and his companions, an effectively constructed specimen of concerted music, there was some reprehensible carelessness shown by the chorus in one or two measures.

 

In the second act another débutant made his bow, signor Nannetti (Alfonso). A large, well-rounded, sonorous, flexible bass voice is a rare thing nowadays, and such an organ Nannetti brough into requisition in the fine aria ‘Vieni, la mia vendetta,’ and in the inevitable cabaletta, with which Donizetti always supplements his vocal themes.

 

The great scene of the opera, in which the jealousy of Alfonso, the struggle between guilty love and marital fear in Lucrezia’s bosom and the manly pride of Gennaro, are so vividly photographed by the composer, was given in a style that would have been sufficient to save the opera had everything else been worthless. Of course we missed those grand moments of a Grisi or a Titiens in the broken accents of the crime laden daughter of the Borgias; but the fresh young voice of Maresi made amends, to a great extent, for the lack of dramatic power. Still at times she breathed the sacred fire in the passionate accents of the ‘Oh! A te bada,’ in which the tiger like nature of the Borgias breaks forth. When Gennaro is brought in and is addressed with hypocritical accents of friendship by Alfonso in the aria ‘Della Duchessa prieghi,’ memories of Susini and Beretti were brought back in the rich, thrilling tones of Nannetti. Then followed the magnificent trio, one of the finest thoughts of Donizetti, in which the tragic elements of the opera are consecrated and limned with a Doré [?] luridness.

 

Here Campanini rose to a pitch of vocal grandeur that amply fulfilled expectation. Every note was full of intense expression, and mingling with the deep tones of Nannetti, and the fresh sympathetic voice of Maresi, the trio was an operatic gem, without a flaw, in the rendering[.] The ringing tones of the tenor, even in the prolonged A flat in alt, in the succeeding duet with Lucrezia, satisfied everybody of the justice of the claims of Campnini as a tenor of exceptional calibre [sic].

 

Miss Cary in the last act made one of the happiest impressions during her career on the operatic stage by her rendering of the brindisi, ‘Il Segreto per esser Felici.’ To one that has heard De Méric, Trebelli-Bettini, Didier, Morensi and Phillipps this may seem high praise, but it is deserved. In the death scene Campanini eclipsed even the strong impressions his previous singing and acting produced on the audience. The words ‘L’estremo, l’estremo, madre mia, Anelito chio Spéra,’ fell from his lips in an anguish of tone that quivered with an expression such as no German has uttered since the palmy days of Mario and Giuglini. The chorus was not entirely faultless, but was kept in subjection by the conductor, Muzio, as no chorus has been for years in the Academy, and the light and shade of the tragedy, reflected by the orchestra, testified to the same able musical limner. ‘Lucrezia’ is always a dangerous opera to present in this day, but Mr. Strakosch has given it with a flavor of those days when there were operatic giants.”