Strakosch Italian Opera: Lohengrin
Event Information
Venue(s):
Academy of Music
Manager / Director:
Max Strakosch
Conductor(s):
Emanuele Muzio
Price: $2; $1-2 extra, reserved seat; $16 & $20 private boxes
Event Type:
Opera
Record Information
Status:
This event is still undergoing additional verification.
Last Updated:
4 May 2025
Performance Date(s) and Time(s)
23 Mar 1874, 7:30 PM25 Mar 1874, 7:30 PM
27 Mar 1874, 7:30 PM
28 Mar 1874, 1:00 PM
Performers and/or Works Performed
1)
Composer(s): Wagner
Participants: Strakosch Italian Opera Company; Christine Nilsson (role: Elsa); Annie Louise Cary (role: Ortrud); Giuseppe Del Puente (role: Frederick); Italo Campanini (role: Lohengrin); Romano Nannetti (role: Henry, the King); A. [baritone] Blum (role: King's Herald)
Citations
8)
“A vast audience, among whose numbers were discernable the principal representatives of professional and social New-York, was assembled at the Academy of Music last evening, to witness the first recital, in this country, on a scale of excellence proportionate to its magnitude, of Richard Wagner’s ‘Lohengrin.’ The overture was begun at 7:45 o’clock precisely, and the performance ended at 11:30.
If the subject were one with which we had not often dealt it would be necessary, before proceeding with a notice of ‘Lohengrin,’ to make some reference to the doctrines and art record of Herr Wagner. The frequent appearance of selections from his works on concert programmes has, however, afforded all required opportunities for discussing the principles and achievements of the writer for the future. We can, therefore, refrain from setting out anew upon a task periodically imposed on us. Wagner has been prominent before the world about twenty years, and no reader interested in music can have failed to peruse excerpts from the preface to a volume of four libretti, printed long ago in Paris, and embodying a statement of the bases upon which the music of the future is to rest. The author insists upon the choice of myths for libretto-matter; upon the interior importance of the score to the libretto; upon a melopeia inherent to the action, and upon the ‘grand symphonic melody;’ which to enwrap the whole work and to disclose itself, in its infinite detail, not only to the connoisseur, but to the profane and to the most simple nature, so soon as the requisite degree of receptiveness by contemplation (recuiellement) is attained. The composer of ‘Tannhauser’ and ‘Lohengrin’ has been criticized, ridiculed, and—in France, for instance—actually excommunicated by musicians whose facile creativeness, allied often to considerable ingenuity, has made them popular; but it is fact, nevertheless, that, the world over, a taste for Wagner’s music has been engendered where it did not exist, and has assumed gigantic proportions where the music of the future was first welcomed with appreciation.
The story of ‘Lohengrin’ can be rehearsed as follows…[synopsis follows, omitted here].
To do justice to the music with which Wagner has colored these incidents is not an easy task. Most operas, even those composed under the influence of the newest theories, bear about the same relation to those of the German innovator that a book with a score of illustrations would have to a work in which every line of the text had its accompanying cartoon whereof omission would destroy the sense of beauty of the whole achievement. The familiar recitative preceding an aria; the songs in three or four verses, with the same burden to each; the andantes and subsequent florid passages for the prime donne—in brief, all the conventionalities of the lyric drama are missed from ‘Lohengrin.’ One does not await a single scene in ‘Hamlet,’ and leave at its close, and the theatre will never be crowded just previous to one scene in ‘Lohengrin,’ and be emptied directly afterward. There are, of course, points of slighter interest than others; points where both the dramatist and composer might, perhaps, have advantageously lingered less, but there is no stage of the opera to which one can afford to be for an instant inattentive. All through the music is of the most thoughtful and elaborate kind. There is as much tone in the faintest pianissimo as in the most tremendous forte, and the gradations of power are simply innumerable. This matchless control of the orchestra, a perfect freedom of form, and an utter absence of commonplace are the main features of the score. The melopeia which, according to the Wagner theory, should pervade every composition is present from first to last, and the constant but unwearying recurrence of two or three representative themes links at every turn of the story memories of the past to deeds of the present. To indicate the chief characteristics of such a work is really to accomplish as much in the way of description as can be attained. Yet there are undoubtedly climactic portions of ‘Lohengrin,’ and as the public at large will be inclined to remember the opera by its most effective pages, these cannot pass without special mention.
The overture, which long ago became known to concert-goers, mainly by the labors of Mr. Theodore Thomas, is in itself a delicious symphony. It is intended, the composer tells, to depict the return of the Holy Grail—the cup from which Christ drank at the last supper, and in which Joseph of Arimathea received the Savior’s blood—to the mountain where a few privileged knights guarded the treasure, We prefer, however, to view it as a fit introduction to after events, and Wagner can scarcely complain if its vague beauty, and the atmosphere of fairyland it seems to diffuse produce the right dreamy contemplativeness which the theorist himself desires for the proper appreciation of his works. There is nothing notable in the first portion of the opening act—that is to say, in the proceedings of the King and his knights, which are carried on by means of a recitative marked by a strong rhythm and an accompaniment of great firmness. Elsa’s entrance is preceded by a brief chorus, sustained by the wood instruments, and in as decided contrast to the rough vigor of the foregoing bars as the delicate form of the maiden to the stalwart figures of the Brabantic chevaliers. The exquisite orchestral accompaniment of the maiden’s song—‘Sola, nei primi anni miei’—is more conspicuous than its theme, and particular heed should be given to the art with which the character of the second couplet, in which Elsa expresses her trust in the appearance of a champion, is varied by a modification of rhythm and tempo, and the use of an increased instrumental force, the voice and orchestra uniting at last in an ecstatic utterance of faith. A harmonious prayer comes next, and but little further on, the crescendo known as the ‘swan music,’ which, beginning with the choral passage signaling the discovery of Lohengrin in the distance, swells from a tremendous volume of sound into an overwhelming peroration of triumph. Lohengrin’s thanks (‘Mercè, cigno gentil’) are sweet and strange in tune, and are a welcome transition-period between the grand music to the strains of which the Knight of the Grail lands from his wondrous bark, and a suave and grave choral (‘Almo terrore’) of well-defined prayefulness, amid which the swan vanishes in the distance. The dialogue between Elsa and Lohengrin is distinguished by a perfect musical definition of each personage, which makes it as impossible to assign a phrase to the wrong character as it would be to put upon the lips of one of Shakespeare’s creations the words intended for another’s. A beautiful quintet, unaccompanied, and a grave and muscular chorus prepare the combat, during which an agitato, as mighty as a storm, accented by powerful trumpet-blasts, progresses to lead to another triumphal outburst. Elsa’s cry of gratitude, (‘Lodar l’uniano accento,’) which is almost in the time of an Italian stretta, succeeds the combat, and a sonorous finale terminates the act.
The music of the second act is stamped by considerable variety. The opening duet between Ortrud and Frederick is awful in its deep gloom, and the menace of the final ensemble is tinged with a despair akin to that reigning in Dante’s ‘Inferno.’ A grateful contrast is afforded in Elsa’s melodious breathings to the morning breeze, while the demoniac utterances of Ortrud, later on, are strong shadows for the picture. The ensemble at the end of this number, Elsa singing the joys of love and Ortrud threatening, is exceedingly beautiful. At this period of the action, day dawns, and fresh bugle-salutes to dawn scatter the darkness of night. A vigorous martial chorus (‘Sul campo dell’onor’) is heard before the dainty bridal music, which everybody has enjoyed in the concert-room. In the finale, the themes of the nuptial march fall now to the chorus, now to the orchestra; there are also somber passages for Frederick and Ortrud, and some love-phrases of matchless purity and grace for Lohengrin as he leads his bride to the altar amid the loud rejoicing of the people. The third act is introduced by the well-known pages depicting the marriage bliss, and the melody is taken up by the chorus, who escort the wedded pair to their chamber. The grand duo between Elsa and Lohengrin, which, to our thinking, is the gem of the opera, is next. More varied pieces of the kind are familiar, the immortal duet in the fourth act of ‘Gli Ugonotti,’ for example, surpassing it in theatrical effect; but nothing so chastely passionate, so to speak, or as infinitely tender, lives on the lyric stage. The symphonic development of this splendid piece, causes it to extend over almost half the act. After its interruption by the attempt upon Lohengrin’s life, the scene changes, and the court gathers once more to martial sounds. A grand recitative (‘Da voi lontano’) is the most striking feature of the closing tableau, during which a recurrence of the swan-music is brought about, with some touching phrases from Lohengrin.
The recital of ‘Lohengrin’ last night was very fine. Although Signor Campanini now and then showed that he was suffering from hoarseness, it was apparent that the Knight of the Grail is his grandest rôle. He endows the character with unswerving dignity, his voice is of the exact quality needed and is perfectly suited to the high tessitura of the part, and the correctness, breadth, and shapeliness of his phrasing were never so striking before. Throughout the opera Signor Campanini’s acting and singing were above all praise. Such a dainty rendering of delicate writing as that of the swan music, such soulful sweetness as Signor Campanini threw into the love duet, which was broken in upon repeatedly by applause; and such genuine inspiration as marked his rehearsal of the story of the Grail in the last act, have not been harkened to at the Academy in our recollection. Mme. Nilsson has not quite mastered Elsa, but she sang her first verses with the happiest discrimination between the character of the couplets, and did charmingly in the duet in the third act, while the spirited finale in the first found her, we fancied, a little lacking in passion. Miss Cary, a matchless contralto, also approved herself, last night, gifted enough, as well as brave enough, to portray Ortrud, acquitting herself of her duties with unfaltering energy and decided success. Musically, Ortrud is by no means well favored, although the rôle, in respect of length is really trying; but her representative must be an artist of exceptional power, dramatically as well as vocally. Miss Cary met the exigencies of ‘Lohengrin’ with as flattering results as the minor difficulties of ‘Aida,’ and at once established her title to the part. Signor Del Puente, as Frederick, completed worthily the quartet. The plaudits during the entertainment were of the heartiest kind, but the assemblage, being emphatically Wagnerian in its tendencies, wisely opposed all demonstrations which might have broken the spell of music which must be savored in silence. En revanche, enthusiasm was allowed full play after the curtain had fallen on each act. The largest share of the honors of the night was carried off by Signor Campanini, to whose efforts in ‘Lohengrin,’ as to those of his associates, we propose to give fuller consideration hereafter, but all the performers were summoned before the footlights several times in succession, Signor Muzio, to whose industry the rare proficiency of the orchestra is due, and Mr. Strakosch, the manager, being compelled to stand in their midst and bow their acknowledgments. The chorus was numerous, but its achievements were not on a plane with those of the orchestra.
In spite of the pressure of time and space, we cannot omit noticing the mise en scène of ‘Lohengrin.’ It would satisfy Wagner himself. Everything is appropriate, fresh and substantial, as becomes an opera to the local color of which all its elements should unite in giving distinctness. The two sets of scenery used—the first, which reappears in the third act, representing a bright landscape on the banks of the River Schedlt, and the second, with its massive dwellings—were painted expressly for the occasion by Mr. Minard Lewis, of whose reputation their effectiveness and finish is quite worthy. The sumptuous costumes of the period are of faultless historical accuracy, and are as numerous as if they were as readily obtainable as the plainest articles of every-day attire. The setting of the opera, to sum it up, is as admirable as was the setting of ‘Aida,’ and is more deserving of commendation than its predecessor, because of the solid elegance of everything required. Mr. Strakosch, who has now kept his every promise—and has thus established himself, let us add, as a very phoenix among managers, in defiance of panic and sickness and the thousand and one annoyances to which the most fortunate of impresarios is subject—has indeed succeeded, by the unexceptionable presentation of ‘Lohengrin,’ to American audiences, in adding to the honors already thick upon him after a season of unprecedented artistic splendor.”
9)
“An immense audience gathered at the Academy of Music last evening to witness the first representation there of Richard Wagner’s ‘Lohengrin,’ an opera written by him twenty-six years ago, and first brought out at the little opera house at Weimar in 1850 under the direction of his enthusiastic friend, Franz Liszt. The occasion of the present production is one of extraordinary interest and seemed to be felt as such by the audience. No man in the whole realm of art has forced himself and his theories upon the world, in our day and generation, with such persistence as Richard Wagner. For thirty years he has been waging battle with his enemies, and a very hot one it has been on both sides.
On his part he has scouted and flouted nearly every composer that has ever lived—has especially held Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer, Halevy, and every other Jewish composer in contempt, and has poured out the sevenfold vials of his wrath on all Italian opera, which he considers frivolous and childish music, composed on utterly false principles, intended to tickle with dance rhythms the ears of foolish people who have no conception of what real music is and to minister to the vanity of artists.
On his own part Wagner has received blows as severe as any that he ever administered to others. Chorley, who was regarded as the most authoritative of English critics, after a hearing of the opera in question writes of it as follows: [31-line quote].
In the opinion of ‘Lohengrin’ so freely and strongly expressed by the distinguished English critic, there were doubtless very many in the audience last evening who fully concurred.
That Wagner is inspired by a pure and noble reverence for art, cannot be denied. However impracticable his theories may be, all true lovers of music will honor him in so far as his efforts go to the elevation of that divine art. That it has been corrupted by flippant writers is indubitable, and it certainly may also be conceded that the division of any opera into recitative and aria is a purely arbitrary one and destructive to the dramatic and poetic basis on which the work should rest.
Nor need it be disputed that Wagner is correct in his assertion that the music should be subordinated to the poem and should be the means through which the text is illustrated, giving it color and expression. It did not, however, remain for Wagner to discover this. One hundred and five years ago the Chevalier Gluck published his ‘Orestes,’ and in the dedication prefixed to it occur these memorable words [33-line quote].
Here, then, we have expressed, a century ago, by one of the greatest of composers, some of the ideas for which Wagner is most strenuously contending. They are in themselves true and good; but, on the other hand, it is very questionable whether Wagner has carried them out to their true solution in the long and wearisome stretches of musical declamation floating about at random through the twenty-four keys with which he has sought to replace the old forms of recitative and air, which forms one of the burdens of his complaint.
But to return to the opera in question. The cast with which it was performed last evening was as follows [see above].
The scene is laid at Antwerp, in the first half of the tenth century. The libretto is founded upon one of the old middle age myths, with the spirit of which Wagner was so deeply imbued, and which he has made the text of so many of his works—a myth similar, though of other origin, to those of which Tennyson has made such admirable use in his cycle of poems relating to the knights of Arthur’s court.
Henry the First, King of Germany, surnamed the Fowler, having come to Brabant for the purpose of levying a force to repel the invasion of the Hungarians, finds it in a state of anarchy [synopsis follows].
In this opera Wagner has strongly contrasted the characters which he intends shall typify spiritual things, Elsa representing the good and pure in mortals which is so easily vanquished, Frederic and Ortrud portraying the powers of evil, which are strong and fierce, while Lohengrin represents good spirits who watch over and would fain take charge of mortals, but are all driven away by want of faith and infidelity.
The evil characters of Frederic and Ortrud are strongly contrasted throughout the work with the ones of Lohengrin and Elsa. The music given to the former two is hard, unmelodious, while that of the lovers is much of it tender, graceful, and beautiful.
The overture, which has been familiarized to us by Thomas’s and the Philharmonic Society’s orchestras, is a most striking and poetical composition. It is an epitome of the opera, and typifies the coming down of Lohengrin from the heights of purity into the strife and contention of this world, and finally his return to whence he came.
Beginning softly and with the highest notes of the violins, it gradually deepens and widens, gaining always in sonority and power to the grand climax, from which it again diminishes, ending as it begins, with the harmonic passages for violins.
The opera is in three acts, of which the first and third are the best. The first act is occupied by the accusation of Frederick against Elsa, the orders of the King, and proclamations by the heralds. Next follows Elsa’s beautiful melody, in which she related her dream of the coming champion and the prayer (chorus of women) for aid in her distress. Then an effective chorus, which ushers in the swan, Lohengrin’s adieu to the swan, the duet between Lohengrin and Elsa, which is followed by the conqueror’s triumph, closing the first act.
The dramatic progress of this act, the constant motion and stir upon the stage, the sonorous ensemble pieces and choruses, the grand and full instrumentation, and the interest of the combat make this a very effective act. The second is less powerful, the long duet between Elsa and Ortrud proving somewhat tedious, although the act closes with a fine scene.
The third act opens with a splendid piece of orchestral writing descriptive of the nuptial festival, then a wedding chorus and a long duet between Elsa and Lohengrin, intended to be expressive of love but dissonant and disagreeable. The act closes with the departure of Lohengrin, and the situation is finely worked up.
So far as the soloists are concerned the greater part of the music falls naturally to Mme. Nilsson and Sig. Campanini. They were the life of the opera.
To Signor Campanini it was not new. His earliest triumphs had been won in it When it was brought out at the Teatro Communale at Bologna in 1872 the part of Lohengrin was assumed by him. He was young, and it showed a broad and noble spirit in the man to undertake to present to an indifferent if not a hostile public the work of a so unpopular composer as Wagner, The work was then superbly brought out under the direction of Mariani, one of the greatest orchestral leaders in all of Europe. People flocked to Bologna from all parts of Italy. The work has been most carefully studied, and was given, it is said, with the utmost fidelity, unity, and precision, and without the smallest error or uncertainty.
The experiences that Campanini then gained have proved most useful now, and have enabled him materially to assist in giving effect to the present representation. His part was finely and artistically sung, though his voice showed the strain that has been put upon it by the arduous work that he has recently done.
The prima donna left nothing to be desired in the poetic manner in which she rendered the character of the heroine.
Of her efforts and of the admirable support that the opera gained from the intelligent assistance of Miss Cary and of Signori Nannetti and Del Puente, we have not at this late hour time to speak in detail. That must be reserved for another occasion. It remains only to summarize our impressions of the opera, and they are these:
The work is composed from a high intellectual standpoint, and is addressed not, as mere music, to the ears of the audience, but, as a dramatic unity to their profound and careful consideration. Those only can understand and enjoy it who take the trouble to follow carefully the unfolding of the plot and give themselves up to the narrative. For there are no pretty melodies to beguile the ear—only melodious phrases to illustrate and accompany the words. It must then be followed at least libretto in hand, or still better with the vocal score. There are those who will only go to the opera to be pleased and charmed and not to study. For such Wagner has not chosen to write. He considers opera the highest form of art and a very serious piece of business. But even for such there is much enjoyment to be had, for no one can fail to be aroused by the grandeur and sonority of much of the music. The mere power and wealth of tone with which he floods the scene, and the pageantry and movement of the action, are sufficient to claim attention.
Wagner is a fine dramatist, but we believe him to be a self-elected and not a divinely ordained musician. He has made himself a composer because he determined to be one, but above all he is a man of thought rather than of inspiration, and such melodies as he makes are barren.
His work had, however, last evening a distinct and emphatic success. Mr Strakosch and his indefatigable maestro, Signor Muzio, to whom so large a measure of credit is due, were called before the durtain and received the marked acknowledgment of the audience. The opera will be repeated tomorrow and Friday evening. To judge from the interest with which every act was received by the large audience that attended last evening it will be some time before the public curiosity in this extraordinary work will abate.”
10)
“The event of the season has taken place. ‘Lohengrin’ has been produced, and the disciples of the new school of music can record a victory for their cause. Whether this victory will prove barren or fruitful time will disclose.
As might have been expected, the Academy of Music was crowded to excess, and the large audience arrived at half-past seven, evidently anxious not to lose a single note of the great work about which so much has been said and written. The overture, which is simply a delicate prelude full of the closest harmonies, was somewhat marred by the footsteps of a few tardy comers, and did not, therefore, receive that strict attention which has been awarded to it in the concert room.
The curtain, on rising, disclosed the view of the meadows on the banks of the Schedlt near Antwerp, where, by the way, the artists have depicted a variety of frowning cliffs of which that tame, prosaic stream can hardly boast. The herald and trumpeters announce that King Henry the Fowler summons the princes, nobles and freemen of Brabant to muster for the realm’s defence; and a series of choruses and recitatives lead to the entry of Elsa. Nilsson, in this part, is arrayed in the simplest of garbs, and the music allotted to her is equally free from pretence and from melody. Taken from the Wagnerian point of view it is consistent throughout; but it fails to awaken either the sympathy or the enthusiasm of the audience. Elsa glides through the entire opera like a pale phantom. She seems, save in the phase of the drama where her womanly curiosity is her absorbing motive, an unearthly being removed from the passions which sway humanity. Ortrud, the vindictive and false woman (for whose animosity there seems to be scarcely sufficient cause), is far more human, despite her unwarrantable malignity.
The appearance of Lohengrin, the Knight of the Holy Grail, in a boat drawn by a swan, is one of the most effective scenes in the whole range of opera. To this entry of the tenor the auditor is gradually led by the exigencies of the drama, by the character of the preceding choruses, and by the fact that all the other principal characters have appeared on the scene. Usually the prima donna is the central point of attraction in an opera. In ‘Lohengrin’ it is the tenor around whom the interest principally clusters.
Lohengrin’s few unaccompanied bars of music with which he bids farewell to the swan assume, by means of a few recurrent notes in the second, sixth and thirteenth bars, the quality and semblance of a melody; and coming after the hurly-burley of orchestration and chorus, is exceedingly grateful to the ear. Thenceforward to the clse of the act the composer gives a series of concerted pieces, of great intricacy, illustrated and sustained by the most brilliant and interesting orchestration.
In the second act there is a highly dramatic duet between Elsa and Ortrud, leading to an elaborate march and to concerted music, which is ushered by the fanfare of trumpets and accompanied by all the stage effects of processions, costumes and careful grouping. Although this march was taken more slowly than is usual in the representations of this opera abroad, it was last night most effective, and the curtain fell amid the loudest applause, all the artists being called before the curtain. The third act contains much notable music. There is a wedding chorus with a simple and clearly-defined melody, a love duet for tenor and soprano, in which there are some really tender passages, and the great scene in which Lohengrin tells his name and rank, and the holy task in which he has been engaged as a knight of the Holy Grail.
On Signor Campanini fell the chief burden of last night’s performance, and nobly did he sustain it. In appearance and action he was all that could be desired; while with his smooth, full, and noble tenor voice he gave a tender, appreciative and intellectual rendering of a really great rôle. His great scene of the last act was exquisite in declamation as well as in singing; while his declaration of love to Elsa in the first act permitted the introduction of a delicious sostenuto note, fading away into the most perfect diminuendo which human voice could utter. Although there were at times signs of fatigue in his voice, the Lohengrin of Campanini was a thorough triumph, and in its finished grace and delicacy at once a contrast and a fitting pendant to the more fiery Radames, in which he so recently displayed his power.
Madame Nilsson’s Elsa, as we have before intimated, was delicate and graceful. We do not see how the part could have been better personated, though it must be confessed that it is a character which allows but little scope to the vocalist. Miss Cary’s Ortrud was dramatic, while Del Puente as Frederick, Nannetti as the King, and Blume as the Herald, all won commendation, though their music was not of the character to elicit applause.
While our contemporaries have published elaborate accounts of the plot of ‘Lohengrin,’ with long biographies of Wagner, with extracts from his books, and with very profound disquisitions on the character of his music, we have preferred merely to record the impressions of a first night’s performance, and shall take occasion, after Wednesday night’s repetition of the opera, to speak at length of the technical and peculiarly musical features of the work.”
13)
“If a crowded and enthusiastic house proved anything we might safely say that the first introduction of one of Wagner’s operas last night to an American audience was a great triumph for the new school of musicians. The brilliant assemblage, filling every seat and doorway, listened with unmistakable interest from half-past seven till half past eleven, called out the principal artists again and again after every act, called out Signor Muzio and Mr. Strakosch, applauded vigorously in the few places where applause could be permitted, and showed a decided inclination to break into important scenes with untimely hand-clapping which the severer disciples resolutely suppressed. But first nights are always deceptive. There is a large body of Wagnerites in New-York, and of course they were present in force, and greatly excited by a representation far more effective, more careful, and more thoroughy artistic than the most sanguine had ventured to hope for. They saw in Madame Nilsson the ideal Elsa, in Signor Campanini the ideal Lohengrin; and as one well set scene succeeded another, they seemed ready to call Mr. Strakosch the ideal manager. How much of the hearty demonstration came from these enthusiasts, who have studied Wagner’s music for years, and how much from habitués of the Academy, to whom such an opera must have been a new revelation, we wait awhile to judge. This much, however, is certain, that ‘Lohengrin’ was received with delight by a vast majority of the audience, and with gratification—not unmixed perhaps with a puzzled sort of curiosity—by nearly all the rest.
An intelligent and unprejudiced listener, who brings to the first performance of one of Wagner’s musical dramas a mind filled with impressions of the conventionalities of the modern opera, will be apt to come away bewildered and distressed. He will seek in vain for the formal aria, the time-honored scena, the cut and dried recitative, and the familiar cadences. Searching for what he has no right to expect, he will miss the wonderful beauties unfolding before him, and it is only after a second or a third hearing that he will comprehend what manner of feast this is upon which he has been invited to regale. For Wagner’s work is new from beginning to end. It is not a reform of previously existing styles; it is an entirely fresh creation. It is not opera at all, in the common acceptance of the words, and it differs toto caelo from the whole class of compositions by which the average public will perversely insist upon judging it. The Art-Work (Kunstwerk), as he calls it himself, is a combination of music, poetry, memetics, and painting, in which the different branches of art are intimately united to form one great and symmetrical whole. The drama is not sacrificed to the exigencies of vocal display; the music is not hampered by a ridiculous and sterile text; even the scene-painter and the decorator become collaborators instead of servants. Nothing in the history of the stage has ever been constructed upon these principles before; and if they stand the test of experience Wagner will be remembered not as a renovator of the opera but as the founder of a new art. Before we proceed to sketch the development of his theories in ‘Lohengrin,’ we shall let him explain in his own words what his theories are. They are not preconceived notions, to which he has forced his music to correspond, but they have been gradually formed in the course of composition, and are subsequent in date to both ‘Tannhäuser’ and ‘Lohengrin.’ It seems to us important that at least a slight sketch of these principles should be given here, because Wagner has been radically misunderstood, and the tendencies popularly attributed to him are exactly opposite to those which he really pursues [Sketch of Wagner’s principles follows, three columns].
Wagner himself could not have wished for a more beautiful and spiritual Elsa than Madame Nilsson, or a more picturesque and romantic Lohengrin than Campanini. Both these fine artists seemed to have caught the true spirit of the Wagnerian drama, and their personations were inexpressibly touching and noble. The Ortrud (Miss Cary), the Frederick (Sig. del Puente), and the King (Sig. Nannetti), were all excellent. The new scenery was handsome. The dresses were magnificent. The numerous pageants and stage illusions were well arranged. Care and taste were evident on every hand. If the chorus was not very good, it was at least passable, and its size was ample; and if the orchestra, increased to about sixty pieces, was not faultless, it was handled with unusual delicacy, and Sig. Muzio, who prepared and conducted the performance deserves the very highest credit for a representation which will compare favorably with European standards.”
14)
“The production of a new work on the Italian opera stage must always be a subject of interest to a music loving public like that of New York. When this work is, besides, one of the chief representative lyric compositions of a new school, the tenets of which are entirely revolutionary in spirit and tend to subvert old and established forms, the interest is immeasurably increased. Such was the attraction that drew together last night in the Academy the largest audience of the season. Richard Wagner’s ‘Lohengrin’ cannot be regarded as an absolute novely in this city, in consideration of its frequent representations at the Stadt Theatre; but when we reflect upon the mutilated and incomplete manner in which it was brought out at the Bowery opera house and the truly grand and effective performance in Italian last evening, Mr. Strakosch is surely entitled to the honor of being the first manager in America to put to a practical test the merits of the school it represents. And here a word of praise is due to the enterprise that gives to the people of New York the work that is talked about so much in London and Paris, yet has never been heard in those cities. The bitter warfare that has been waged in Europe over this question of the ‘music of the future’is likely to find a new field of action in America. No one can always trust to the first impressions produced by a work of the magnitude of ‘Lohengrin.’ Without espousing the cause of classical absolutism nor yet that of the stormy republicanism of ‘Zukunft’ disciples, approaching sometimes to the intoxication of Communism, we can but accept a midlife course and glean from both opposing parties those opinions that seem to be most in accordance with the dictates of reason. On one side is tradition, stern and unalterable, pointing out the path, in which the composer must go; on the other the theory of individual destiny, spurring one on to bold experiments, new paths and daring deeds. The spirit of the present age inclines towards the latter, but not to the reckless extent that Wagner’s admirers would countenance. Berlioz, the acknowledged father of this school ‘of the future,’ was never guilty of the extravagance which now generally characterizes it. The main defect of Wagner’s music is its utter realism. He leaves too little to imagination, but insists upon demonstrating his musical treatment of a libretto as if it were a geometrical or algebraic problem. He treats music as a science only and ignores its existence as an art. We fear that the average opera-goer will never subscribe to such a theory. The remarkable inventive capacity of Wagner in orchestral coloring, and the [scenis?] application of the same cannot be overestimated, and in ‘Lohengrin’ it is particularly prominent, but so is also the fatal mistake of regarding the human voice as merely an additional instrument to the orchestra, and robbing it of the liberty of imagination, expression and sentiment that constitute the chief charm of opera. When a great lyric artist is tied down by inexorable rules in every scene and is absolutely tyrannized over by the orchestra, the first conditions of opera are violated. Such is the case in ‘Lohengrin.’
Everything that liberal management and immense operatic resources could effect was brought to bear on the production of this work last night. The chorus was nearly eighty strong and the orchestra sixty, with twelve additional trumpeters on the stage. The long and severe rehearsals to which that admirable chef d’orchestre, Signor Emmanuel Muzio, subjected his forces, produced an effect scarcely credible—a smooth, symmetrical performance of such a stupendous work on the first night. The mise en scène was entirely new and quite in keeping with the spirit of the subject. Nothing has ever been presented at any of our dramatic houses to surpass in splendor and brilliancy the dresses, armors and other properties incidental to the piece. It was placed on the stage in such a lavish manner that the audience, in an outburst of appreciative enthusiasm, called Mr. Strakosch before the curtain, and would not be contented until the principal artists unearthed the blushing impresario from some hiding place and brought him forward. Muzio also came in for a share of liberal applause. The cast was a remarkably strong one. We subjoin it [see above].
Of the principal artists in this cast two are entitled to praise of unstinted kind—Mme. Nilsson and Signor Campanini. Admirable in evey operatic rôle she undertakes, but particularly fascinating in a creation like Elsa, which harmonizes so well with her poetical spirit, Mme. Nilsson last evening won another lyric triumph, the value of which may be estimated from the serious strain upon the voice and innumerable technical difficulties that stand in the path of success, all of which she bravely overcame. Her lovely voice, in its crystalline purity of tone, sounded strangely soothing after the fierce struggle between the recitative singers—Herald, King and Frederick—and the overpowering orchestra. And here, after nearly thirty pages in the score of the opera, may be found the first air or melodic form that can be construed into one, ‘Cinto d’usbergo.’ Throughout this scene, until the arrival of Lohengrin, the interest centred upon Elsa, and in her spotless white garments and gentle mien she gave a faithful portrait of the falsely accused Princess of Brabant. The prayer for a champion to take up her cause was delivered with rare beauty and feeling and without any of the demonstrative spirit with which it is sometimes marred. The next gem in her rôle was the exquisite ‘Aurette, a qui si spesso io confidat il dolor,’ which Elsa sings in the second act from the balcony, unconscious that she is watched by the vengeful eyes of Ortrud and Frederick from the steps of the minster. In this, as in the succeeding duet with Ortrud, in which the tender heart of Elsa is inclined to forgive the former treachery of her rival, Mme. Nilsson’s singing was worthy of her established fame. The concluding part of this scene, when Elsa invites Ortrud to enter with her into the Kemenate, is one of the chief melodic features of the opera. Passing to the first scene of the last act—the bridal chamber—where both the voice of prima donna and tenor were sorely tried, and which seems interminable, Mme. Nilsson rose to the emergencies of the occasion and went through the difficult music unfalteringly. It was, indeed, throughout an exhibition of lyric genius worthy of a better subject than the ‘zukunft’ school can provide.
A worthy companion picture to the Elsa of Nilsson was the Lohengrin of Campanini.It was in action, singing and appearance the beau ideal of the Knight of the Holy Grail. His costume and make up was surprisingly effective, and the grace of action that characterizes all his operatic impersonations was here shown to rare advantage. The song addressed to the swan—a very delightful morceau of melody—in which the tones of his clear, sonorous, well balanced voice were first heard, gave promise of a lyric success in the rôle which was entirely fulfilled before the swan bore him away again from the banks of the Scheldt. Of all the ordeals in opera to which a tenor can be subjected, that of the rôle of Lohengrin is the most terribly trying.
It is a strain of the most severe kind from beginning to end and rarely gives a breathing spell to the artist. The tenderness of voice and manner in the scenes with Elsa was as artistically shown as the majesty of demeanor and heroic spirit that marked him above the nobles of King Henry’s Court. The duet in the bridal chamber, which has a few sparkling gems for the tenor, and the fine scene in which Lohengrin reveals his true name to the Court, were delivered with surpassing effect by Signor Campanini. The success which won for him in Italy, even from unwilling German critics, the title of a consummate artist cannot fail to attend him here. It must be a subject of regret, however, if Signor Campanini will continue to subject his fine voice to the ruthless measures of Wagner.
The Ortrud of Miss Cary, although having many excellent traits, as one would look for in the possessor of a contralto voice of exceptional power and beauty, was hardly adequate to the trying scenes of the rôle. Perhaps the fact that the rôle being designed for a mezzo soprano, and much of it lying above the compass of Miss Cary’s voice, may have had the effect of lessening her lyric powers; but the impersonation was not up to her usual standard of merit. The terrible character of Frederick’s music had also a depressing effect upon Signor Del Puente, and yet it is hard to conceive how on earth any artist can achieve a success when a storm of brass is hurled at him every time he opens his mouth. Nannetti, one of the best bassos we have had here for many years, labored under a similar disadvantage. Both these artists would have made an unequivocal success had they been heard throughout, but human lungs are limited, and cannot be replaced like the mouthpiece of a trumpet or the reed of a clarionet. Herr Blum struggled manfully with the unvarying difficulties attached to the position of army crier. It is absurd to expect any voice to last under such a constant strain.
Words of the most hearty commendation are due to the chorus and orchestra for the splendid manner in which they fulfilled their share of the work. Some of the grand climaxes in the opera, such as the greeting of Lohengrin as he approaches in the boat drawn by the swan, the prayer before the combat, the overwhelming finale of the first act, the male chorus in the beginning of the second act, after the trumpeters on the stage announce the dawn of day, the processional chorus on the way to the church, the grand bridal chorus in the last act and the concluding ‘Enrico viva!’ were all given with an effect that spoke of careful training, an experienced leader and willing minds. Considering the great difficulties with which those choral numbers abound—and we shall refer to this particular subject again—the promptness of attack, precision and accuracy of execution and spirit shown at this first performance of the most difficult work extant call for high praise. And by Signor Muzio and his worthy assistant, Mr. S. Behrens, this state of things was brought around.
With ears and eyes deafened and blinded by the uproar of eighty voices and seventy instruments and the glitter of pageants such as the Academy boards never saw before except in the case of ‘Aida,’ after four mortal hours of ‘amusement’ of this description we suppose the reader will naturally inquire from us, What is the upshot of all this grand operatic ensemble? and what can be said in a word about Wagner’s music as a steady pabulum for the average opera-goer? We reply that as long as the poor singers hold out and the endurance of the listener is judiciously kept up by extraneous means ‘Lohengrin’ will be a standard attraction. But young ladies will never warble its ‘melodies’nor fair-haired young men thrum fantasias on it on the keyboard of a piano. We conclude with an extract from an eminent English critic on Herr Richard Wagner:--
Some one long ago showed the possibility of beginning a composition with a discord…”
15)
“We must honestly say that Nilson’s personation of Elsa on Monday night greatly surprised us. That she would make the character graceful and romantic, act it to the life, and present a beautiful and radiant picture of innocence and purity, was almost a matter of course; but she did much more than this. She caught the true flavor of Wagner’s poetry as if by intuition. The most enthusiastic admirer of the great master would not have had her change the coloring of a single phrase or the emphasis of a single word. The most exacting critic of the drama could hardly find a fault in her acting, or a trace of negligence or misconception. It may be that she does not enlist the sympathies of her audience as warmly in ‘Lohengrin’ as in some more familiar operas; but this, if it be the fact, arises from no fault of hers. Elsa is a distant legendary heroine who moves upon the earth as if she did not belong to it; we are charmed by her beauty, fascinated by the mystic melodies which encompass her, but we can hardly feel with her in sorrow and trouble. Our emotions, we scarcely know why, go out rather toward Lohengrin himself, though he is, of course, a more unreal creation than the Princess of Brabant. As Wagner made Elsa, such Nilsson unquestionably represents her. The great technical difficulties with which the part is overloaded are so completely conquered that we utterly lose sight of them. The trying intervals are all compassed with certainty and ease, and the strange phrases flow from her mouth with exquisite melodious grace. We do not believe the music of Elsa has ever been sung so well, and it will be in vain at this day to look for anybody who can do it better. There are several effective scenes in which Nilsson makes an extraordinary impression. Her prayer just before the arrival of Lohengrin in the first Act is superb; her cry of mingled joy and wonder when the knight appears upon the river, and she throws up her clasped hands in an agony of rapture; her long love duet with Lohengrin, in which the changing emotions of her soul are so vividly portrayed; and above all, perhaps, her bearing during the terrible last scene of all, while the knight is making the disclosure which must separate him from her forever—all these will live in the memory of the audience which was so fortunate as to attend the performance on Monday night. But what we admired the most in Mme. Nilsson’s performance was the forgetfulness of self which seemed to ennoble and vitalize it. To an artist who has been thoroughly trained amid the vanities and artifices of the Italian stage, and has lived for years in the atmosphere of applause, an opera of Wagner’s which demands such constant sacrifice of opportunities for display and concealment of the very accomplishments which chiefly tickle the multitude, must always be a severe school of discipline. The singer who submits to its requirements, as Nilsson has done, manifests the highest artistic impulse and the truest feeling. For this, all genuine lovers of art must hold her in perpetual honor.
The high merit conspicuous in her performance was noticeable in all the rest of the cast—and especially in the splendid personation by Sig. Campanini, of which we shall speak at length hereafter. An earnest and intelligent effort was observable in the chorus and orchestra also, and at times a magnetic enthusiasm seized upon the band in the grander passages of the score. The opera of course was largely cut, but the excisions were judicious, nearly all being the same which were made at Bologna, with the composer’s sanction. The most important omissions occur in the address of the King at the beginning of the opera; in the trying scene between Ortrud and Frederick in the second Act, nearly half of which is left out; in the duet between Elsa and Ortrud, also shortened nearly one-half; in the scene at the church door; and in the finale of the opera, where a large part of the music of Lohengrin and Elsa has been sacrificed.”
16)
[Very faint and difficult to read:] “The second performance of ‘Lohengrin’ took place last evening at the Academy.
No musical work that has been produced of late years has excited so much discussion, and so deep and universal an interest. The battle that has been fought over Wagner’s works with so much spirit on the other side of the ocean bids fair to be transferred to this. So far, however, the tide sets strongly and unequivocally in favor of the composer. On Monday night his opera was received not only with patience and attention, but with much enthusiasm, and this experience was repeated last evening.
Artists say that there are few audiences in any part of the world that apprehend [sic] so quickly and respond so warmly to whatever is new of [illegible] in art as those of this city. The ardor with which Wagner’s work has been received may be due in part to this characteristic and in part to the fact that he has a great number of disciples in this city who have flocked to hear his work. That it must be mainly due after all to the power of the man as shown in his work and to the admirable presentation that it is now receiving at the Academy.
There is vigor in every line of the score, and though we may find certain of the intervals that he constantly uses abhorrent to the ear, we cannot but be absorbed by the vigor of the composition, the [illegible] and progress of the scene, the [illegible] of some of the situations, and the power that is everywhere manifested.
This much is certain, if Wagner’s theories are accepted the knell of Italian opera is sounded, for it is [unjustifiable?] that any audience that is discerning enough to enjoy the ‘Lohengrin,’ still more his later works, can by any possibility go back willingly to the sugar and water of the Italian operatic composers.
And it is equally certain that under the influence that Wagner is so powerfully exciting in the musical world the standard of composition will be advanced, and no composer will have the [illegible] hood to put forward sixty-four slipshod operas in seventy-five years as did Donizetti, but will feel it necessary to give time, thought , and [elaboration?] to his work.
The opera was in some repects better sung last evening than on Monday. Madame Nilsson is the ideal Elsa, and it is difficult to conceive how the character could be more fitly impersonated than it is by her. There is room, however, for much improvement in the chorus, not only in the matter of notes, which they have not altogether mastered, but also in that of expression. Notably is this the case in the nuptial music and double chorus—the fourth scene of the second act. Wagner has here given the theme—and a beautiful one it is—to the orchestra, using the chorus as subordinate, and marking their part to be sung pianissimo. The effect is entirely lost by the fact that the singers give the music at the top of their lungs; and one of the finest passages in the work is stripped of half its beauty.”
17)
“Richard Wagner’s representative opera was repeated at the Academy of Music last evening, with the same perfection of ensemble that characterized its first representation—Nilsson as Elsa, Campanini as Lohengrin, Cary as Ortrud, Del Puente as Frederick of Telramund, Nannetti as King Henry, Blum as the Herald and Signor Muzio, with his well trained chorus and orchestra, numbering 150. There is little to add to our previous remarks of the efforts of the artists in the cast; but to them and the manager of the opera belong all the praise that can be bestowed. The school of music which this opera represents is a pernicious one, hurtful alike to voice and ear. Richard Wagner deserves the credit of being a persevering man—one who has worked his way to his present position against the most discouraging obstacles. This is one plea that his admirers put forward for him, but it is a flimsy defence. Brigham Young and other modern notabilities have shown a corresponding spirit of perseverance in their own spheres, and yet they can hardly be held up as shining examples. The intense egotism of Wagner is reflected in his manner of dealing with the lyric drama. It is all very well to talk of the purification of the operatic stage from the trivialities with which it has been so long encumbered. Here is absolute despotism, under which no artist, no matter what favors genius his [has?] conferred upon him or her, can possibly assert individuality. This infinite melody (endliche melodie), this continuity of thought, this utter annihilation of individuality for the sake of a harmonious whole; in fine, this obliteration of detail, such as in opera, looks very well in theory. The practical part of it is different. Wagner is not true to his theory, otherwise he would not interrupt the course and development of his musical dramas by such timeserving, ignoble contrivances as mere acts. He should never drop the curtain upon one of those marvelous creations, as the audience during the entr’acte is liable to lose the continuity of thought. The Wagnerian theory of the music drama, in its full meaning, is something that future generations will experience the same trouble we do in appreciating. It is an impossibility when reduced to practice. Take the finale of the first act of ‘Lohengrin,’ for instance. It is supposed to be sung by a solo quintet—Elsa, Ortrud, Lohengrin, Frederick and the King, with full chorus and orchestra. The artists in the quintet might as well be pantomimists, for no five human voices could ever be heard amid such a storm of choral and orchestral elements as that which accompanies them. Why, then, write parts for the soloists when they cannot be heard? Then the duet in the second act, between Ortrud and Frederick, is nonsensical in a musical point of view. Unresolved chords of the diminished seventh constantly afflict the ear, and a dreary waste of recitative is left for the hapless pair to traverse. This ‘infinite melody’ may be more properly termed an infinite longing after melody. To Mr. Strakosch and his excellent company all praise is due for what they have done for the ‘zukunft’ opera; but let the same enterprising manager place on the boards of the Academy a grand opera by Meyerbeer, Rossini, Gounod, Gluck, Spontini or Cherubini and we augur for it a more genuine success than for any work of that vocal slaughter house, the ‘Zukunft’ school.”
18)
“The wonderful instrumentation with which ‘Lohengrin’ abounds was better appreciated at the second hearing on Wednesday night than at the first. Wagner makes superb use of the violins, and the majestic sweep of the strings is heard not only in the more pretentious portions of the work, but is lavished upon little preludes and interludes, and upon the strains which close a scene, and are often lost amid the applause of the audience. In the wedding march and chorus in the second act this mastery of violin writing is especially shown. The treatment of the brass instruments is a more obvious feature of the instrumentation, and one which has elicited some disapproval. One of the most effective points for the brass has, however, been lost by the poor playing of the performers, who, it is true, are in danger of being trodden to death by the horses so needlessly brought upon the stage in the last scene, and so can scarcely be expected to play with their customary smoothness. Altogether, the orchestration of ‘Lohengrin’ is as much a study as is a first-class symphony, which is only orchestration and pretends to be nothing more. On this splendid instrumental substructure the vocal portions of the opera are built. Music more difficult to sing it would be impossible to find. The intervals are unnatural. The orchestra instead of helping the vocalist actually contradicts his every note. The chorus is subdivided into different groups whose differing music seems to be so devised as to offer every difficulty and to result in every discord. After such hurly-burly, however, there will come a ravishing strain, not exactly of melody, but of clean-out phrasing, in which the harmonies, for a few bars at least, are simple and grateful to the ear; and it is on these occasional passages that the singer must depend for that encouragement by way of applause which is so dear to the heart of every artist and so essential to a spirited rendering of an opera. In the whole of ‘Lohengrin,’ from beginning to end, there is not one solitary cadenza of the usual approved type. When a pleasing phrase ends, the succeeding music—generally dissonant—is taken up so quickly as to leave no opportunity for any expression of appreciation.
It is worthy of note that the passages in ‘Lohengrin’which give the greatest satisfaction are those which cling the less closely to the characteristics of Wagnerian composition. The song in which the mysterious knight tells his origin and history gives general delight, not because it suggests Wagner, but because it is more in the vein of other recognized composers. Much of the success of this fragment, with a New York audience, arises from the excellent treatment it receives from Campanini, whose picturesque and graceful performance throughout the entire opera is, indeed, one of the pleasantest associations of this interesting lyric production.
The music of ‘Lohengrin,’ unnatural as it is in many points, is too great to be treated with indifference or contempt. It has won the suffrages of too many competent musicians to be hurt by abuse. It is difficult, however, to avoid associating it in the mind with the overwhelming pretensions of the composer, who is far more intolerant towards his contemporaries than even the most weary anti-Wagnerite has ever been to him. Then his music, in its violation of all precedent and in its needlessly exacting demands upon the human voice, is also pretentious. Why should a contralto be obliged to repeatedly sing high A and B, or a baritone to hold an F sharp? Miss Cary, we observe, prudently spares her voice by altering some of the uninteresting music allotted to her part. Miss Nilsson, however, finds in the music of Elsa nothing beyond her vocal means, and Wagner himself could never hope for a more perfect interpreter of the part of Elsa. Del Puente, we may add, has made a marked impression in this opera, while Nanetti has been obliged to sacrifice himself to the general effect.
All who heard the two performances of ‘Lohengrin’ were more pleased at the second hearing than at the first. It is a work which requires study not only to appreciate the grandeur of its many ideas, but the labor which has been involved in its preparation. The orchestra and chorus—so often overlooked by the opera goer—do their work splendidly, and the frightful difficulty of that work a glance at the score will show. We believe that to Mr. Muzio and Mr. Behrens the success in these departments is due. They deserve the highest credit, and the same praise is due to the vocal and instrumental forces under their command.”
19)
“The Academy of Music was last evening more densely crowded even than on Monday, when the first representation of ‘Lohengrin’ took place, and from the reverential spirit in which the performance was listened to, and the demonstrations of gratification to which a free outlet was given after the fall of the curtain upon each of the acts, all doubt as to the continued attractiveness of Wagner’s opera was put out of the question. ‘Lohengrin’ cannot, it is true, be appreciated by occasional glances at its beauties, and it may almost be admitted that the sustained attention which should be paid it is a trifle fatiguing for the average spectator. On the other hand, the labor of analysis is not essential to a positive enjoyment of its celestial harmonies, and but a little thoughtfulness bestowed on the marvelous blending of poetry and music, is required to add to the undefinable charm exercised upon the senses an immediate insight into the skill of the composer. The immense assemblages drawn to the Academy thus far, and the deep interest with which the recitals have been followed, indicate a desire on the part of the public to discover and admire the excellences of Wagner’s muse, such as dilettanti of more pretentious art centres abroad would do well to imitate. Last night’s rendering or ‘Lohengrin,’ showed a decided increase of smoothness over Monday’s, while its principal features were unchanged. Signor Campanini’s hoarseness still clings to him, but it was much less troublesome than day before yesterday, though in the most trying moments of the first night, as we had the pleasure then to record, the artist’s control of his voice prevented it from offending. Signor Campanini’s soft tones are of delicious quality, and their ‘staying power,’ to use a turf term, is wondrously effective. Hence we cannot imagine it possible to throw more lingering sweetness in his farewell to the swan than Signor Campanini infuses in the few bars in which he dismisses his fairy equipage in the first act, nor can we hope to listen to more tender accents than those in which he woos Elsa to the altar. Further on, the tenor is equally effective. His phrasing, in the grand duet in the third act, is of faultless correctness and elegance, and his coloring of the passionate lines, ‘Fa ch’io m’inebri del dolce incanto,’ glows with a warmth contrasting strongly with the virginal purity of the context. Signor Campanini’s delivery of the legend of the Holy Grail, in the ensuing scene, is on a plane with his achievements in the duet, and when we say that his acting is as good as his singing, being marked by ease, dignity, and force, and setting forth a clearer comprehension of the character than we were prepared to credit to an Italian artist, we fancy we need not seek additional terms of commendation. We still adhere to the belief expressed on the morning of the earliest performance of ‘Lohengrin’ that Mme. Nilsson will be the ideal Elsa, and we no less steadfastly hold to the assertion that she has not quite overcome the difficulties of the rôle. So perfect a physical representative of the maiden, so gifted a being in the matter of voice, and so consummate an actress would hardly fail to endow several passages of the opera with an impressiveness they do not yet possess, were it otherwise. Mme. Nilsson last night sang Elsa’s first verse with infinite sentiment and purity of style, and infused the ecstacy implied by the words and music into the second verse in which a reference is made to the apparition; the eloquence of her face and form was exceedingly effective, too, when the trumpet being sounded, her champion delays; we found her, however, rather reserved in the stretta with which the act terminates, and could have wished her more impassioned in portions of the duet. Elsa’s scene with Ortruda was very dramatic, Miss Cary, whose development into an actress of considerable force has been often alluded to in these columns, being as successful at this stage of events as in the somber duo with Frederick just preceding the interview with Elsa—a number which, yesterday as Monday, was loudly applauded. Signor Del Puente was Frederick. By an omission which we hasten to repair, the name of Signor Nannetti, who fills in ‘Lohengrin’ the trying character of the King, did not appear in Tuesday’s account of the recital of the previous evening. So young and painstaking an artist, and one whose voice is of rare beauty, ought not to be overlooked, and particularly on the occasion of his assumption, to general satisfaction, of a difficult and thankless rôle. The Herald, in Wagner’s opera, is personated by Signor Blum, whose robust voice and distinct articulation are suited to the requirements of the numberless and endless proclamations allotted to him for delivery. The incidents of yesterday’s representation did not differ materially from those of Monday’s; the artists were recalled after every act, and there would have been continued interruption from applause, but for a determination to prevent ill timed tokens of approval—as we are bound to admit many during the ‘swan scene,’ the duet, and the story of the Grail would have proven."
20)
“The second performance of ‘Lohengrin’ last night, was better in all respects than the first. The artists were more perfectly at ease, the chorus was smoother, the orchestra more delicate, and the stage business improved in several small details. The audience was even larger than on Monday, and the satisfaction so marked and so general that there can no longer be any danger in pronouncing ‘Lohengrin’ a brilliant fashionable and popular success. Madame Nilsson’s Elsa seemed to us more strongly individualized than before, and more emotional. Miss Cary again approved herself a thorough artist in her terribly difficult role, and Sig. del Puente gave us a much higher idea of his ability than we have entertained heretofore. It was Sig. Campanini, however, who bore the chief burden of the night. The slight hoarseness which troubled him a little on Monday had so far disappeared that its traces were only now and then perceptible. A trifling accident of this kind, to which every artist is liable in our trying climate, is hardly worth considering in view of the extraordinary merit of the entire representation. The same praise which we bestowed upon Mme. Nilsson yesterday for the earnestness and self-abnegation of her impersonation of Elsa belongs in equally unstinted measure to the Lohengrin of Signor Campanini. The young tenor has raised himself greatly in the estimation of musicians by this noble and highly-finished performance, and we can well understand the unbounded enthusiasm which he aroused in Italy whenever he was heard in this beautiful part. Wagner tells us that the interest of this opera rests entirely upon the development of a process in the heart of Elsa. That is true, so far as the logical construction of the drama is concerned; but it is upon the Knight that the sympathies of the audience are invariably bestowed. He is the radiant figure upon which centers the beautiful legend with all its associations, the source to which all the gentle and romantic strains seem to be referred. His appearance is in perfect harmony with the spirit of the music. With flowing yellow hair and beard, shining armor, and white cloak and plume, he is the perfect picture of the ideal champion, and never for an instant does he forget the character he has assumed. A soft air of mystery surrounds him. A tender dignity marks his bearing; a deep religious sentiment colors his delivery of the melodious phrases which the composer has assigned to him. He discards all the vulgar straining for effect, forcing of the voice, and screaming at the gallery upon which the commonplace operatic tenor usually depends for applause. All that he does is consistent, appropriate, and thoroughly artistic. The first thing that he sings, the exquisite address to the swan, delivered almost entirely without accompaniment, is an example of the reverential spirit in which he goes through the entire rôle. There are other conspicuously fine passages in the same scene—that, for instance, in which he impresses upon Elsa the condition of their union, and the thrilling passage where he embraces her and cries out, ‘Elsa, io t’amo!’ In the second Act he does not appear at all til near the close, and then he has but little to sing; but the second scene of the third Act gives him a magnificent opportunity. Here comes the long love duet, in which Campanini is the very soul of tenderness and manly grace. We prefer to all else however the finale of the opera where, standing before the King, he rehearses in low and impressive tones that inimitable solo, ‘Da voi lontan in sconosciuta terra,’ while the orchestra accompanies him with the ‘Grail Motive.’ The narrative is most admirably phrased, told pianissimo until the climax is reached, when the Knight finally discloses his name in the imposing declaration, ‘Son Lohengrin suo figlio e cavalier’—a passage which always rouses the house to real enthusiasm. The farewell to Elsa is a touching and delicately managed incident, and the Knight’s departure at the end is a real bit of poetry in action. But that might be said indeed of Campanini’s interpretation of the character from the first scene to the last. It is nothing less than a model performance, true in conception, and beautiful in execution, a performance which no earnest lover of art can witness without delight.”
21)
“The third performance of ‘Lohengrin,’ on Friday night, was scarcely up to its predecessors. The chorus singers were several times at fault, the tenors in more than one instance finding the music too much for them. Signor Campanini, being on the verge of hoarseness, had to husband his voice with care, and thus, though he sang smoothly, he did not make the effect he usually does. Madame Nilsson sang with charming taste and fervor, and was in excellent voice. Del Puente sang and acted splendidly. On this artist, since the departure of Maurel, all the baritone parts devolve, and he seems to be fully equal to the emergency.
The orchestration of the opera was last night as exquisite as ever, reflecting the greatest credit on Muzio and his band. A very large audience was present, and the leading artists were several times called before the curtain.”
22)
“Wagner’s opera was given for the third time last evening before an overwhelming house, and a marked improvement was perceptible in every rôle and in the choral and orchestral departments. No more trying test could be selected for a company than this work, and no more satisfactory results could be expected of any singers. Mme. Nilsson’s Elsa is one of those lovely and poetical creations that could emanate only from one of her spirituelle temperament, and, although in asserting her own individuality she violates one of the tyrannical principles of the Wagner school, yet every true friend of art will commend her for her independence. Campanini has earned his chiefest laurels in the great rôle of the Knight of the Grail. All his former efforts pale before this remarkable exhibition of lyric genius. The swan song, the duet with Elsa in the bridal chamber and the recital of the legend of the Holy Grail were delivered last evening with an effect, expression and ease that brought down the house. Miss Cary and Signor Del Puente as Ortrud and Frederick, and Nannetti and Blum as king and herald were admirable, and Signor Muzio has trained both chorus and orchestra to a wonderful degree of perfection.”
23)
“‘Lohengrin’ was given for the third time this week, at the Academy of Music, last evening. The house was crowded in evert part, and the applause more generous, even, than that bestowed upon the first performance of Wagner’s massive work. The recital, as may be imagined, gains in smoothness by repetition; last night’s, however, did not differ sufficiently from the representation of Wednesday to exact comment.”
24)
“The fourth performance of Wagner’s opera took place yesterday afternoon at the Academy of Music. Such a crowded house has seldom been seen at an opera. Every seat was taken and standing room was, after the commencement of the performance, not of a nature calculated to give the late comer even a tolerable view of the stage. Yesterday’s representation was in every respect the best of the four given last week. Musicians acquainted with the terrible nature of Wagner’s opera and the fearful strain on the principal singers, declared emphatically at the beginning of the week that it was a physical impossibility for any opera company to give four representations of this formidable work in the same week. Yet it has been done, and successfully, too. Every praise is due to Nilsson, Campanini, Cary, Del Puente and Nannetti for their artistic rendering of the principal rôles; to Herr Blum, for his endurance; to Signor Muzio, for the training of the orchestra and chorus, and to M. Von Hamme, for the admirable manner in which the stage management was conducted. Campanini, in particular, deserves a word of commendation. Sick and enfeebled from the influence of the detestable weather which has prevailed this month, and only buoyed up by a sense of duty of art and the public, Campanini has heroically gone through an amount of work in this opera which would have, under the circumstances, swamped any other living artist. It is hard enough to sing when one is sick; but to go through a Wagner opera in such a state is heroism. Mme. Nilsson, notwithstanding the finished character of her first impersonation of Elsa, seems to add new charms to each subsequent performance. The gem of the rôle is the duet with Cary, at the beginning of the second act. Yet all this music inspires one with a feeling of compassion for those truly great artists, who risk their voices in its stormy measure. No one can deny that ‘Lohengrin,’ symphonically speaking, claims the attention and commendation of every musician, but we cannot depart from our first opinion that it a slaughter-house of the voice.”
25)
“‘Lohengrin’ was given for the fourth time at the Academy of Music yesterday. Every seat in the house had been sold on the previous day, and the spacious auditorium was filled to overflowing. The performance was the best of Wagner’s grand work to be witnessed, Signor Campanini’s hoarseness having almost entirely disappeared, Mme. Nilsson shaping herself more and more to a rôle which we thought she would have mastered at once, Miss Cary succeeding equally well in adapting her fine contralto voice to the exigencies of a long and thankless mezzo-soprano part, and Signori Nannetti and Del Puente, and the orchestral and choral forces doing their whole duty most valiantly.”
26)
“The audiences at the third and fourth performances of ‘Lohengrin’ were still larger than at the previous representations, and it is now beyond question that Wagner’s great work has received a more enthusiastic popular welcome than any other opera produced in New-York for many years. That it would be relished by good musicians and appreciated in the long run by all persons of culture we have never doubted; but we confess that we were not prepared for the brilliant and apparently substantial success which crowned all the efforts of last week. This success is partly owing to the inimitably picturesque and beautiful Lohengrin of Sig. Campanini, the admirable Elsa of Mme. Nilsson, and the excellence of the other principal artists, Miss Cary, Sig. del Puente, and Sig. Nannetti, as well as the fine spectacular effects distributed through the evening; but there is certainly a general liking for the music also, together with a remarkable comprehension of the new theories of art upon which ‘Lohengrin’ is constructed. The truth is, Theodore Thomas and the New-York Philharmonic Society have been expanding musical intelligence and elevating musical taste so rapidly during the past five or six years that a great change in the attitude of the opera toward musical art has become a necessity. Careful observers have long noticed that the Italian lyric stage has been losing its hold upon the best class of our people, and that the true connoisseurs, abandoning the opera for the symphony concert, have been drawing with them larger and larger numbers both from fashionable society and from the educated masses. While the opera still furnished an amusement for the rich, it did not satisfy the requirements of that great and rapidly increasing public to which Beethoven, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Schubert, and Wagner were become familiar as household words. It was evident that the methods and objects of the stage must be reformed, or else there must soon be a calling off, for real music on one side, and for the empty pretense of it on the other.
We do not assume that because ‘Lohengrin’ has succeeded so signally the reform is yet at hand. Mr. Thomas has taught us to admire the extraordinary beauties of this opera, and has played so much of it, season after season, that we recognize favorite passages in almost every scene. A less familiar work of Wagner’s might not be liked so well. But it is a notable fact that the same tendencies which Wagner has followed so far toward their logical development can be more or less distinctly traced in all the really successful composers of our time—nay, they characterize the labors of Gluck a hundred years ago. The essential difference between Gluck and Wagner is that the former subordinated music, and more especially vocal display to dramatic expression, leaving the artificial and unnatural structure of the opera just as he found it; whereas the author of ‘Lohengrin’ unites music and poetry on equal terms, and far from subordinating the melody to the text, gives it greater freedom than it ever had before. Gluck, however, perceived the absurdity of the Italian school, which contented itself with a mere unmeaning euphony, and he gave the aria and the recitative a dramatic character, so far as he could do so within the limits of existing operatic forms. Weber did the same thing. Mozart did it in ‘Don Giovanni’ and ‘Figaro,’ and though the declamatory music of Gluck, owing to special causes which we need not here analyze, has retired from the stage to the library, Mozart and Weber have a hold upon the popular heart which still seems unshaken. The favorite composers of Italy however have all lost their popularity. Rossini, the greatest of the school, left about forty operas, and of these only five are now current, and only two—‘William Tell’ and the ‘Barbiere’—retain a high place in public favor. Donizetti wrote between sixty and seventy, of which only five or six fairly keep the stage; and of Bellini, there is little or nothing left except ‘Norma,’ ‘Sonnambula,’ and perhaps ‘I Puritani.’ These three composers gave the world about one hundred successful Italian operas during the past sixty years, and not one of them all, except perhaps ‘William Tell,’ would now attract an audience in New-York, London, or Paris, unless it served to exhibit some popular singer. Verdi, the latest composer of the Italian school, has shown in his recent works a very strong tendency toward a more dramatic and more truthful style, and in ‘Aida,’ he has borne unmistakable testimony to the soundness of Wagner’s principles. It is a significant fact that the only composer who now disputes with Verdi for the first place in popular favor is Gounod, who departs further than any of the Italians or Frenchmenfrom the beaten path of an aria, recitative, and finale and mingles, with much that is trivial and unnatural, a great deal that is truly poetical and dramatic. All these—Gluck, Weber, Mozart, Gounod, and the later Verdi—seem to have been striving for a solution of the problem of the union of poetry and music; but it was reserved for Wagner to solve it.
In speaking of the performance last week, we have done scant justice to Miss Cary, who fills an arduous and wearisome part to the admiration of all good judges, and we have omitted perhaps to make adequate mention of Sig. del Puente, who far surpasses in this opera all that he has done before. Sig. Nannetti also deserves especial commendation for his correct style and noble bearing. The chorus is the only part of the company which does not satisfy us. It has never been good during this season, and in ‘Lohengrin’ where most of its music is in six and eight parts, it is painfully inefficient. The orchestra has steadily improved. It comprises 10 first violins, 8 second violins, 6 violas, 6 ‘celli, 6 double basses, 2 flutes, 3 oboes, 2 clarinets, 1 bass clarinet, 3 bassoons, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, 1 tuba, harp, cymbals, and 3 timpani (61 performers)—a force which for ordinary work would be abundantly large, and well balanced. For this opera, however, the violins are too weak, much of their music being scored in four parts, instead of two. Still, the band even now is a larger one than the Acadmy has proper accommodations for, and a number of the players sit outside the railings.”
27)
“Wagner’s ‘Lohengrin’ has evidently found a multitude of admirers in this city, for the audience which last evening listened to the superb rendering of this opera was as numerous and as appreciative of the work as any of the preceding ones, and this in spite of the fact that this is Holy Week, and many of those most accustomed to attend the opera stay away in deference to their religious observations.
It looks now as though Wagner had fully taken his place among the composers whose works impresarios will be expected to have upon their lists, and the time may come when even his later operas will be accorded a hearing. For, after all, ‘Lohengrin’ is not the essential Wagner. It stands to his later works as the early effusions of a great poet do to his future productions. In ‘Lohengrin’ he was still shackled by tradition. It was written when he was but a poor young man living in an attic in Paris on a franc a day, arranging French airs for the horn and doing such hack work.
The ideas that matured in the Rheingold were then only in embryo. Wagner was groping his way alone and friendless toward the theories that he adopted later, and ‘Lohengrin’ bears much greater resemblance to the productions of Von Weber and of Meyerbeer than it does to the great trilogy the Nibelungen-lied, composed in these later years when he had determined to throw aside all deference to conventional forms and to compose operas exactly as he thought they should be written, and without fear or favor of any man.
As ‘Lohengrin’ is repeated the presentation grows smoother as regards all the principal performers. The only weak point left is the chorus, and of them better is not to be hoped for. They have reached the limits of their intelligence and ability in acquiring the notes. Any refinement of singing or of light or shade is not in them, and cannot therefore be gotten out of them by any conductor, however zealous. This is more to be regretted since Wagner has raised the chorus from the mere echo that it often is to a chief place in the score.
The women are far better than the men; they sing not only with greater certainty, ease, and correctness, but with much greater intelligence.
One of the peculiarities of Wagner’s system of continuous melody and the merging of one situation into another is that, for the first time in the history of opera, there is no chance for any of those dreadful encores with which foolish and indiscreet persons are accustomed to interrupt the progress of the play. Wagner not having set up his characters to sing any pretty little songs, with a nice cadenza, and a beautiful held note at the end to bring down the house there is not the ghost of an opportunity for any piece to be redemanded. One might as well undertake to encore the soliloquy in ‘Hamlet’ as one of his scenes. In consequence the public appreciation of the opera is marked rather by the absorbed interest that is manifested in the progress of the drama than by continued hand clapping in praise of the vocal efforts of the singers. For this dawn of the era of common sense let Wagner be praised. If he has done away with the encore nuisance he has done much. His teaching is that the opera is not to be listened to as music, and for music’s sake alone, but as a grand imaginative poetic work, pregnant with thought, and moving on with a sustained and stirring interest to its climax.
To this end Madame Nilsson, Miss Cary, and Campanini, Del Puente and Nannetti signally contributed. Nilsson never seemed more lively or in better voice than last evening. The whole story could be read reflected in her mobile features and sympathetic acting.
Miss Cary has taken up the trying rôle of Ortrud, and made of it a careful study. It receives from her a consistent and admirable interpretation full of character and strength. Though the music presents no opportunities for specific vocal disply, nevertheless, Miss Cary has assumed no character in which her high dramatic intelligence, comprehension of the situation, and ability to portray deep emotions has been more conspicuous.
It is unfortunate that the opera should be so soon withdrawn. For the present at least there will be but one more performance of it, that of the Saturday matinée.”
28)
“On Monday evening, March 23rd, Lohengrin was performed at the Academy of Music, with the following cast [see above].
This opera has been put on the stage before, at the Stadt Theatre in this City, but the resources of the company then were entirely inadequate to the requirements of the work. And last Monday’s representation was practically the first performance of Lohengrin in New York. Mr. Strakosch spared no expense in putting the opera on the stage in good shape, and no better artists than Nilsson and Campanini, for the principal rôles, could be found in the world. The Orchestra, whose part in this opera is no sinecure, had been long and carefully drilled by Sig. Muzio, and their playing was such as to exceed the expectation of the most sanguine. Lohengrin, though it is a departure from the traditional opera, does not fully represent the peculiar views and theories which the composer now holds; but, for this very reason, it is the better fitted for presenting these views to the public which is not yet fully prepared to receive and accept them. It may be that the proverb: ‘There’s no disputing about tastes’ will some day be proved false and that the same true principles of Art will be found underlying every musical composition which is destined to live. Richard Wagner claims to be the first who has applied these principles to opera. The essence of his theory lies in the homely maxim: ‘Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well.’
To apply this maxim to operatic writing, three things are necessary: first, a composer of genius; next a poet; third, a man utterly untrammeled by prejudice and fearless of popular opinion. Richard Wagner combines these three qualifications in one man; and therefore the principles of his art being true, his success is only a matter of time. He writes his own librettos, arranges his stage effects as best befits the progression of music and story, and makes of the Opera which before existed only as an absurdity, a perfect and noble Art-work; destined to out-rank even the Symphony [!], which is now music’s best exponent. Four representations of Lohengrin were given last week, to crowded houses. The first reception of the opera was enthusiastic beyond anything I ever witnessed in this country. Artists, Conductor and Manager were called before the curtain in every transport of applause, and there is now, strange as it may seem, a fair prospect of Lohengrin’s becoming a popular favorite. I reserve a description of the work for a future letter.” –A. A. C.