Maretzek Italian Opera: Die Zauberfl�te

“In consequence of the necessary rehearsals for the production of Mozart’s immortal work, MAGIC FLUTE, there will be NO PERFORMANCE ON WEDNESDAY [10/15/73].”

“Mr. Max Maretzek brings his opera season in this city to an abrupt close at the end of the present week. There will be no performance this evening; but for to-morrow ‘The Magic Flute’ is announced. This promise certainly ought to fill the house.”

“To-night the [Grand Opera House] will be closed to give an opportunity for the rehearsal of ‘the Magic Flute,’ previous to its production on tomorrow evening. This is one of the operas in which Mlle. Di Murska is most successful, and her appearance, in conjunction with Mme. Lucca, is an important musical event. On one account the sudden termination is to be much regretted. The completeness of Signor Tamberlik’s art is making a deeper impression as it is better understood, and it is to be regretted that he will not be heard for the present in ‘Gilliaume [sic] Tell’ and ‘Le Prophete.’”

“Mmes. Di Murska and Lucca are to sing in ‘Il Flauto Magico’ at the Grand Opera-house tonight. These two performers, whose styles differ so widely, will not again appear together. Those of our readers who have neglected hearing them could not have a better opportunity to make amends for their tardiness.”

“At last the management of the Italian Opera on the west side have hit the public humor, and the consequence was a throng at the gates of the Grand Opera House last evening that soon brought out the placard so grateful to the treasurer, and so significant of prosperity, ‘Standing room only.’ The crowd even overflowed into the spacious lobbies.

The ‘Magic Flute,’ in spite of its absurd and inconsequential plot, has always been a great favorite with the Germans, of whom the audience was in a great part composed, and the opportunity of seeing Mme. Lucca and Mme. Di Murska in the same opera formed a double attraction that secured a double house. Considering the difficulties that Mozart’s great work presents, the number of characters that are necessary to give it adequately, the importance of some of the minor rôles, and the intricacy of much of the music, the performance, on the whole was a better one than could have been anticipated.

Ronconi was the Papageno, and was in better voice than usual. The summer’s rest has had its good effect with him. M. Jamet took the part of Sarastro, the priest of Isis. The sombre [sic] and noble music allotted to this character, such as the ‘Possenti Nurai’ and the ‘Qui Sdegno,’ two of the finest bass songs ever written, was on the whole too low for M. Jamet. For its due effect it needs a more ponderous voice, such as that of Hermanns, or of Formes in his better days. But Jamet, though he does some things better than others, does nothing ill. He is always an artist to be commended.

The voices of the two prima donnas were finely contrasted and the favor with which they were received was quite equally divided. The music of the Queen of Night is wonderfully suited to Madame Di Murska’s peculiar talent, and she triumphed over all its intricacies and difficulties with an ease and grace that commanded universal admiration. Her delicate finish and facile execution stand out in the fine relief against Madame Lucca’s broader style, and richer and more powerful voice. The contrast was no detriment to either, but the excellencies of the one only served to set off and give relief to those of the other.

An apology was made for Signor Vizzani, who, though suffering under much hoarseness, undertook his part, and did what he could.”

“Whether it was the appearance of two great prima donnas together, or a popular love for Mozart, or some other cause that drew three or four thousand people to the Grand Opera House, we cannot say; but last night, for the first time during the season, Mr. Maretzek had a really magnificent audience, and the throng was so great that in spite of the fire laws chairs and camp stools were placed in the passage ways. We may say also that for the first time during the season Mr. Maretzek gave a performance in some degree commensurate with the rank of his principal artists. He has, as we all know, three of the most celebrated singers in the world, including two prima donnas who are unrivaled anywhere in their respective lines; and yet he has hitherto made such bad use of his resources that ‘The Magic Flute,’ produced last night, is the only one of his performances that calls for serious critical attention. It is strange indeed that with such a gathering of illustrious singers in New-York as we have never seen before, and as few European cities could hope to witness, the conscientious musician has thus far found so little food for hearty praise. We particularly regret that affairs should have been in this unsatisfactory state on the first visit of Mme. di Murska and Sig. Tamberlik on our boards. They have both been sacrificed to bad management—that and the panic together—and they will go away with a low estimate of the discrimination of American audiences. The truth is, the vast majority of our regular supporters of the opera have not even been to hear them.

‘The Magic Flute’ was produced without much regard to the cast of the inferior parts; but it seems to have been faithfully rehearsed; the representation consequently was smooth and tolerably spirited, and most of the beautiful and familiar numbers were sung well enough at least for the audience to catch something of the delicious refinement and perennial freshness which so strongly characterize Mozart’s operas. If we except M. Jamet, whose dignified and artistic rendering of Sarastro was cordially appreciated, Mme. Lucca and Mme. di Murska drew nearly all the attention of the house. Mme. Lucca’s Pamina is a very gracious and pleasant creation, and is distinguished by some exquisite passages, of which that most perfect of duets, the ‘La dove prende,’ sweetly and sympathetically delivered in conjunction with Sig. Ronconi (Papageno), calls for particular mention. Mme. Lucca, however, was fairly eclipsed last night by the astonishing little Hungarian lady who personated the Queen of the Night. The part is a short one, but a phenomenally brilliant and arduous one. We have heard it given in New York by no less a vocalist than Carlotta Patti, and we have heard one of its two arias attempted on the concert-stage by scores of accomplished artists, of whom the latest was Mme. Peschka Leutner. We have no hesitation, however, in saying that Mme. Ilma di Murska so far surpasses them all that she presents the music under a new character, and develops in it opportunities for display of which we had no suspicion before. And the wonderful thing is that she does this without overloading the text with ornaments of her own. She adheres conscientiously to Mozart’s music, and adds only such embellishments as the composer left place for. It is the second aria, ‘Gli angui d’inferno,’ with which she makes the greatest sensation. Here she takes the high F or F sharp with the most delightful ease and purity of intonation, and along the perilous topmost range of the human voice she plays with those exquisite little staccato notes, and executes the most difficult of all vocal feats, until the listeners hold their breath in amazement. Nothing more extraordinary, and nothing in it sway more beautiful, has ever been heard in America.”

“That most incomprehensible of operas, the ‘Magic Flute’ of Mozart, has for so many years maintained its place on the stage—especially in Germany—that its melodies have become familiar throughout the world. It has generally been supposed that it was simply a fairy piece set to music by the immortal composer of ‘Don Giovanni,’ but according to a later theory, seriously advanced in book form by a learned pundit of [the] Fatherland, it is a magnificent and carefully devised allegory, in which Liberty is traced through various trials and afflictions till she rises supreme and triumphant above them all. According to this theory, all the characters in the play have a subtle meaning. The three boys, the two men in armor, the serpent, and the other bewildering adjuncts of the drama mean something; all of which certainly is quite a novel and refreshing view of an old story.

The revival of the opera last night by the Maretzek troupe meant something, too. It meant that over three thousand people were desirous of witnessing the performance, and that many who came to do so were unable to get inside the Opera House. Our German citizens, who always affect this opera greatly (perhaps because their reflective and philosophic minds evolve from the drama its hidden and mysterious meaning) were present in full force.

There have been many better performances here of ‘The Magic Flute’ as a whole, but never before have two such famous prima donnas been heard in it on the same evening. Lucca and Di Murska, as Pamina and the Queen of Night, were thoroughly in their respective elements, the style of the one contrasting most delightfully with that of the other. Di Murska’s famous bravura air (last sung on our lyric stage by Carlotta Patti) was given with marevllous [sic] precision, brilliancy and effect, the showy staccato passages being dashed off with apparent wantonness, yet with unerring accuracy, while the extremely high notes included in the aria were touched with certainty and ease. A scene of extraordinary enthusiasm followed this air, which was twice redemanded, while the prima donna was laden with baskets of flowers, and birds, and other trophies, including an arrow-headed lance constructed of fragrant blossoms.

Lucca, who had smilingly aided her sister artist to convey the floral tributes from the scene, soon had her time of triumph. Her rendering of the air Dove son io? was massive and grand, and at once secured rapturous applause. An encore and subsequent calls before the curtain showed how thoroughly Lucca had succeeded in this great test piece.

M. Jamet, in the various airs allotted to the High Priest, was listened to with critical attention, and the verdict was in his favor. We have had here German singers with deeper voices; but Jamet, if not ponderous in his lower tones, was certainly audible, and the low F in the Qui sdegno was heard all over the house.

Of the other parts, but little need be said. The two men in armor sang disgracefully, Vizzani (for whom an apology was made) skimmed lightly over his part, as if he were not familiar enough with it to take such a liberty as to sing it. Ronconi acted humorously as Papageno, and Madame Testa supported him fairly as Papagena. The Monostatos of Signor Testa was a pleasant performance.

The choruses showed with excellent material, the need of better drilling, and the orchestra was not as thoroughly in subjection as it should have been.”

“The Grand Opera-house was crowded to suffocation last evening. The special attraction was the joint performance of Mme. Ilma Di Murska and Mme. Pauline Lucca in ‘Il Flauto Magico,’ and the promise that the two artists could be heard in one and the same opera was too enticing to pass unheeded. The result must have been highly gratifying to most of the parties concerned. We admit that it was less satisfactory to ourselves. We have no admiration for ‘Il Flauto Magico,’ as it must be done on the operatic stage, and we think that as a medium for the efforts of one great songstress even, it is not to be compared with any of Mozart’s other works, or with the achievements of modern composers. We do not, however, intend entering upon a critique of Schikaneder’s libretto, or a review of the score which the author of ‘Don Giovanni’ and ‘Le Nozze’ has written to its words. That the story is preposterous has long ago been declared; the music is as fresh and tuneful as if interpreted for the first time, but it demands a different recital from that which it is now fated to obtain, either here or abroad. If we wish to deal kindly with last night’s representation, we must regard it as a long concert, in which the charm of a few successful performances was not lessened by contretemps at the other points of the evening. Some of these performances were undoubtedly possessed of much charm, and fully repaid the listener for attendance. The principal incident of the rehearsal of ‘Il Flauto Magico,’ was Mme. Di Murska’s delivery of the two arias allotted to the Queen of the Night. Each of the numbers was awaited with eagerness, and the execution of each, and especially of the last, awoke one of those tumultuous demonstrations of delight which it lies in the power of prima donnas of Mme. Di Murska’s order to bring about. In the first aria, the allegro following the recitative, ‘Non paventar, amabil figlio,’ displayed the marvelous fluency of the songstress’ style; in the grand air, known as ‘Gli angui d’inferno,’ passages of which soar up to D and F in al tissimo, the lady’s range of voice, thorough control of her tones, and unerring surety of intonation, enabled her to make light of all difficulties. Mme[.] Di Musrka’s staccato in this part of the opera were of the utmost beauty, and their effectiveness united to that of an easy mastery of a composition which but two or three living artists can sing in its original key and shape, elicited, as implied above, thunderous applause, and a subsequent tribute of flowers of uncommon liberality. ‘Gli angui,’ or rather the florid portion thereof, was thrice repeated. Mme. Lucca shared the honors of the evening with Mme. Di Murska. We need not hint that Pamina is not a character worthy of the lady, but whenever Mme. Lucca’s voice is sounded, little more can be asked. In the rôle of Tamino’s beloved, the songstress won her most decisive victory by means of the air in the third act—‘Ah! lo so’—which was redemanded. If we add that M. Jamet sang with unimpeachable dignity ‘Qui sdegno,’ which aria, however, only increased the impression that the notes of Sarastro lay rather too deep for him, we shall have referred to the notable events of the night. Signor Vizzani was Tamino, but he suffered from a cold, and an apology had to be made for his hoarseness before the representation was proceeded with. The remaining characters were assigned to Signor Ronconi, (Papageno,), Signor Testa, (Monostatos,) and Signora Testa, (Papagena.).”

“One of the largest audiences which was ever gathered together in this city for the purpose of hearing an opera interpreted, assembled at the Grand Opera House last night, the occasion being the production of Mozart’s work ‘The Magic Flute,’ with Mme. Lucca and Mlle. Di Murska in the parts of Pamina and The Queen of Night respectively. The house was full to suffocation, the seats being all disposed of even before the audience began to gather, and the aisles as crowded as to make ingress to and egress from the front rows next to impossible. If the same number of persons or those of the excess of the evening had been distributed over the fortnight’s performances there would have been more comfort and more enjoyment. As it was, a vast multitude went to hear a brilliant concert, dignified with the name of the opera, and made more enticing by the suggestion that the opera was to be ‘The Magic Flute.’ Aside from the merits of the prime donne and of M. Jamet in the arias which fell to these artists there was nothing worthy of remark, and in considering their merits and triumphs we could have found an equally favorable opportunity if they had been announced to sing in a ‘Magic Flute’ concert. The reception accorded to the prime donne was in enthusiasm something beyond all our ideas of these demonstrations, and, warm as were the plaudits of the vast audiences, there were distributed which such exact justice that nobody could complain. Both Lucca and Di Murska received encores equally hearty and equally deserved, the latter in the second and the former in the last act, and the floral tributes were not a flower too few or too many to either of these great artists.

‘Die Zauberflöte’ is the only opera of Mozart which may be called a German opera, as all his other works were written to Italian librettos. The popularity of the grand spectacle of the same name, which in Mozart’s time was one of the leading attractions at the theatres of Prague and other cities, caused the Emperor Joseph II to suggest to the composer to write music for it. He complied, and the richness of his fancy and poetical ideas were displayed in a lavish manner in this delicious work. But so delicate and fairylike is this wondrous structure of music that, like ‘The Tempest’ and ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ of Shakespeare, it is almost impossible, if not quite so, to represent it on the stage without material injury to the composer. It demands first class artists in every rôle, otherwise, whole scenes are liable to be mutilated; an orchestra virtuosi, capable of interpreting with fidelity and intelligence the playful little dialogue with which the instrumentation is constantly enriched, a chorus of irreproachable quality, a mise en scéne grander and more elaborate than a dozen Black Crooks, and a conductor of the highest order. The strange mysteries of the Temple of Isis, of which Moore has given such a fantastic picture in his ‘Epicurean,’ the witcheries of the Queen of the Night and her followers, the extraordinary character, Papageno, and the noble Tamino, are rather beyond the resources of the stage for anything like effective representation. The opera is seldom produced in Europe or America, both on this account, as well as the difficulty of finding a bravura singer who can soar into the empyrean notes of Astraflammante. This rôle was designed for an exceptionally high soprano who reigned at the theatre of Prague in Mozart’s time. Among the modern representatives of the rôle we may mention Mme. Nilsson, who sang it at the Lyrique, in Paris, some years ago, and Mlle. Carlotta Patti, who made a sensation in it, some seasons past, at the Academy of Music. Marimon essayed it at Drury Lane, in Her Majesty’s opera, since; but, we believe, without success.

Mlle. Ilma Di Murska is admirably suited for such a rôle, as her voice is not merely a pyrotechnic medium for bravura passages, but is capable also of infusing expression and intelligent phrasing into the two grand arias which are assigned to it. In the first, the recitative, ‘Non parentar,’ in which she encourages the perplexed Tamino, was delivered by Mlle. Di Murska with a power of declamation and ease of delivery that betokened the true artist. The fiorituri in the allegro, ranging up to F in alt, were given in the most brilliant manner, each passage being distinctly phrased, and every note made to tell with its full effect. We have heard bravura singers essay this aria, and sing it, too, in the original key, but after a fashion. For the first time the entire music was heard, the rapid passages being delivered with distinctness and effect, and the highest notes attacked with an ease and success that were, indeed, marvellous [sic].

Great as was the display of Mlle. Di Murska’s abilities in the first aria, she eclipsed it in the next act, in the allegro, ‘Gli angui d’Inferno,’ in which Astraflammente calls upon her daughter to avenge her on the high priest, Sarastro. The brilliant staccato notes, from A to F in alt, were delivered with an effect of the most startling kind, and, withal, in true keeping with the music. They were flung forth by the Hungarian Nightingale like lances of melody, each tipped with the fire of genius, and the vast audience was swayed by the electric power of the voice, as if a real witch, not a prima donna, was on the stage. It is a pity that at this early stage of the opera the Queen of the Night disappears, although probably no artist could stand a further demand on her vocal powers.

Mme. Lucca was the other grand feature of last night’s performance, and the little prima donna nobly upheld her position and fulfilled all the expectations. Her rich voice was heard at first in the duet with Papageno, ‘La dove prende amor ricetto,’ and then in the measures of the aria ‘Ah! io so, piu non m’avanza,’ in which she received an ovation which was fully deserved. She seemed to be inspired to unusual efforts on the occasion, for her voice had a greater degree of thrilling power, melting expression and wondrous effect than even in her other better known rôles. The expression of her passionate love for Tamino, when she meets him under the guard of the two men in armor, was another triumph for her voice.

Jamet sung [sic] the music of Sarastro like the conscientious artist he is, and gave the splendid aria, ‘Qui sdegno non s’accende,’ with a nobility of style and delivery that rarely accompanies the singing of operatic artists nowadays. Although the lower notes of his voice at the conclusion of this aria were not of the calibre [sic] of a Formes, whose voice here had the effect of the pedals of an organ, yet the completeness of the art of M. Jamet and the knowledge he evinces in his interpretation of a rôle cannot fail at all times to please a musical ear. Want of space and the lateness of the hour compel us to omit, for the present, mention of the other rôles, including Papageno, the serpent, the trio of females, the bears and the two men in armor, not forgetting the negro, Monostatos. They are very extraordinary in their way, but not in the right direction, and were more calculated to excited laughter than applause.”

Brief. “[Lists cast.] The auditorium was crowded to overflowing, many persons being unable to procure even standing-room. Seven thousand dollars, it is said, were taken in for that night’s performance, and yet the opera was fearfully mutilated and some of the gems omitted altogether.”