Strakosch Italian Opera: Lucia di Lammermoor

“Madame Nilsson made her appearance last night in ‘Lucia,’ and was received with many demonstrations of welcome. The house was crowded, and the applause was evidently sincere. The part with which she begins her farewell season in America is the same which she chose for her first performance in the New-York Academy, two years and a half ago; and we may fairly presume that she holds it in especial regard. Certainly as a dramatic exhibition it is very little inferior even to her Margherita and Mignon. It is truthfully and delicately conceived, it is picturesque, and it betrays the high finish of a consummate artist. Nevertheless we own ourselves at a loss to understand the preference in which Mme. Nilsson apparently holds it. Lucia at the best is a heroine who has two sensational scenes—the malediction of Edgardo and the lunacy business—and nothing besides. The former of these Mme. Nilsson makes extraordinarly effective and realistic, although it does not exhibit the best qualities of her voice nor afford a favorable example of her musical culture. The other is of course a wonderful display of florid vocalization, at which people wonder and applaud, though it is as far as anything can very well be from the beautiful art of song. But this is a defect of the composer, not of the performer, and every one must admit that in the Mad Scene Mme. Nilsson is entirely unrivalled by any artist now on the stage. Mlle. di Murska is far more brilliant, but her brilliancy is a cold and glittering splendor which amazes the mind and tickles the fancy without enlisting the feelings in the slightest degree, while in the delicious purity of Nilsson’s fioriture there is something almost sympathetic. The prima donna was in excellent voice and spirits last night, and was actively supported by M. Capoul, whose zeal amounted to enthusiasm. He was warmly welcomed, and so was M. Maurel, who took the part of Ashton. The performance as a whole was reasonably smooth and well balanced, and the sestet was given finely.”

“Mme. Nilsson sang in ‘Lucia di Lammermoor’ at the Academy of Music last evening. We incline to the belief that the prima donna’s personation of the hapless bride is conspicuous among her performances for dramatic and vocal excellences; and, although Donizetti’s work is by no means the most popular of the répertoire, a recollection of the artist’s mastery of the rôle, coupled with the knowledge that the occasion would derive a special interest from the reappearance of Mme. Nilsson after some weeks’ absence, brought together an audience that filled the house in every part. Mme. Nilsson’s picture of Lucia is, fortunately, not a new theme, for we should be much embarrassed to do it justice within the limits of a midnight newspaper article. It is not an achievement to be judged by its ‘points,’ but must be taken into consideration as a whole. It is certainly as symmetrical an effort as can be conceived. The charm and power of a finished piece of acting are united in the nicest proportions to an exceedingly expressive and effective interpretation of the music, and at no stage of the story does the songstress permit herself to outdo the comédienne, or vice versa. We have heard here, and there are abroad any number of Lucias, but none, in our judgment, strikes, with the success of Mme. Nilsson, the happy medium where fioraturi are eloquent and the simplest recitations sound melodious. Last night’s representation produced the wonted impression, and for those spectators who awaited two or three passages of ‘Lucia’ as likely to indicate the greater or slighter talent of the performer, the usual gratifying exhibitions were in reserve. The opening air, with its brilliant cabaletta, was of course rendered with great finish, and the soprano’s share of the duet with Edgardo executed with a delicacy of coloring which cannot be too warmly commended. We were not excited beyond measure by the duet with Enrico, which, for some reason or other, flagged. But in the sextet, as may be supposed, Mme. Nilsson’s acting was most powerful, and of the mad scene, about which we have written time and again, it is only necessary to say that in respect of variety of delivery and purity of tones it was as poetical and as touching as ever. So much has been printed concerning Mme. Nilsson’s late illnesses that it should be mentioned here that no traces of them were apparent in her voice until the final notes of the scène de folie, when she showed a little weariness. She was called out after her flight, and had to reappear, too, after the sextet, which only escaped repetition by the orchestra’s persistent prosecution of its task. Mme. Nilsson had the co-operation of M. Capoul, M. Maurel and Signor Scolara. M. Capoul had already sung Edgardo, and once it is conceded that intelligence and downright hard work enable an artist to cope with all difficulties, we must admit that M. Capoul deserves considerable praise. M. Maurel interpreted Enrico for the first time, and imparted to the personage the dignity so good an artist can confer upon the most subordinate character. M. Maurel, however, was not in as satisfactory vocal condition as could be wished, and a more ‘telling’ portrayal can surely be looked for. Signor Scolara was as efficient a representative Raimondo as of old, and the chorus and orchestra were up to the mark—a mark of some altitude this season—as in the earlier recitals of the opera.” 

“Madame Nilsson made her first appearance of the present season last evening, in ‘Lucia di Lammermoor.’ The audience was much larger than on either of the two performances of ‘Aida,’ and this would seem to indicate either that the public had rather hear one of the most threadbare and hackneyed works of the whole operatic repertoire than to listen to the best of the new operas, or else that Madame Nilsson’s attractions outweigh all other considerations. This last represents doubtless the true state of the case—the mass of people go to hear the singer and not the music. Madame Nilsson was not in good voice on this occasion; either the trying winter to which she has been exposed or the fatigue of her journeys and her constant labors have told upon her strength, though in action she was as graceful and as charming as ever.

M. Capoul, however, was at his best, and the performance passed off smoothly if not with éclat.”

“Donizetti’s old and familiar opera of ‘Lucia di Lammermoor,’ with Nilsson as the heroine, drew a much larger audience to the Academy last night than Verdi’s latest and most elaborate work had done. The favorite prima donna was welcomed back with the utmost cordiality. Her personation of the unhappy Bride of Lammermoor is well known here. It is delicate, picturesque and pathetic. It fills a high place in the list of characters which Madame Nilsson has made peculiarly her own. In all its requirements the prima donna was last night perfectly at ease. She acted with grace and sang exquisitely, the Alfin son tuo being rendered with a delicacy of sentiment and a finish of vocalization which could not be surpassed. The wonderful cadenza with flute at the close of this aria was delivered with faultless precision, and at once won the heartiest recognition.

Capoul sang with his usual impassioned fervor, winning applause and flowers in the Fra poco. Maurel, as Enrico, gave satisfaction, though the part is not that in which he appears to the best advantage.” 

“The magnetism of a great name is all-powerful in opera. When the millennium comes perhaps a good ensemble will be preferred to the glitter of a single star; but that desirable epoch is yet far distant. The mere announcement of Mme. Christine Nilsson’s first appearance last night was sufficient to crowd the Academy of Music from parquet to dome, while the recent performances of a new and splendidly mounted work, ‘Aida,’ were thinly attended. The opera last evening was ‘Lucia,’ perhaps the one in which the transcendent talents of the Swedish Nightingale shine with brightest lustre. From the scene with Edgardo, in the first act, to the last paroxysm of a crazed mind, when the bride of Lammermoor rushes from the bridal chamber covered with the blood of her husband, whose life she has attempted, the singing and acting of Mme. Nilsson arrest attention and command admiration. The bridal scene, both preceding and following the grand sextet, ‘Chi mi frena,’ is interpreted by her in a perfect whirlwind of passion. The crystalline purity of her beautiful voice, so true in all the florid measures of the rôle, so resonant in its expression and brilliant in its dramatic fire, and her rare histrionic ability, such as many an actress might sigh for, are displayed in their best light in Donizetti’s opera. Bouquets and applause were liberally bestowed upon her. The Edgardo of M. Capoul possesses the qualities of intense earnestness and considerable activity in acting, combined with corresponding vocal elements. The music lies too high in many places for his voice and necessitates efforts where ease would be desirable. Yet the admirable school in which M. Capoul has received his operatic training is shown in some scenes of the opera, notably in the sextet. M. Maurel essayed the rôle of Ashton for the first time, vice Del Puente, who is on the sick list. No more valuable or better deserved compliment can be paid to M. Maurel than to say that he adorns and fills all the requirements of any rôle he undertakes. So it was last night. His impersonation of the brother of Lucia was full of fire, spirit and intelligence. The other characters do not call for special remark.”

“On Friday evening the house was literally crammed and nothing, save a certain somber tone in the attire of the ladies in parquette and balcony, reminded the spectator that it is the Lenten season. The vast audience came to welcome Mme. Nilsson, whose appearance, announced for some days earlier, had been deferred by her illness. The opera selected for her appearance was Lucia, a work which, although tame enough without her, is invested with more than a passing interest by her wonderful impersonation of the unfortunate Lucy Ashton. We all know what this character is when represented by a singer of ordinary talents; there are some graceful melodies, a great deal of florid singing, with a hackneyed accompaniment, no end of appoggiaturas, and any quantity of trilling on high notes. There is plenty of sentimental sighing in the first act, of tearing indignation in the second, of incoherent raving in the third, and one goes away humming the fragment: ‘Spargi d’amoro pianto,’ and wondering such pretty flowers of melody must needs grow in such a flat, unprofitable waste. But Mme. Nilsson, who has the hand of Midas, creates a rôle here after her own fashion, and while, compared with her other impersonations, her Lucia is not preeminent, it is still a picture which will not readily fade from the mind of the beholder. There is the delight of hearing that great heaven-born voice which seems to impart something of its own magnetic life to the music of Donizetti. Then there is the delight of watching the perfect artist in every gesture, every change of countenance as the drama develops. In her rendering of the air, “Regnava nel silenzio,’ which contains the germ of the coming tragedy, her acting is constrained, rather than demonstrative; but there is a deepening horror in her face and voice which tells the whole story. Much of her power lies in this avoiding all useless and meaningless gestures, for she never allows her hearers to suspect that she has approached the limit of her emotional capacity. If Capoul. Who has sung with her so often during the past three years, would but heed the example set constantly before him, his Edgardo would gain much in real strength and intensity, while, in the last scene, he would act like a man and not like a decapitated fowl. Candor compels me to state, however, that Capoul’s singing was good throughout the opera, and his rendering of the air: ‘Fra poco a me’ created quite a furor of applause. Even more satisfactory was the Henrico of Maurel, than whom we have had few better baritones for many a year. The other parts were filled as follows [see above].”