Strakosch Italian Opera: La Sonnambula

“…A good deal was said at the beginning of the season about an even presentation of operas. The very great singers we were not to have, but as a compensation all the minor parts were to be well sustained, and operas presented with equality and finish of detail. The facts fail to [illegible] this theory of the matter, for the minor characters in some of the operas have been placed in such incompetent hands as to mar the whole effect of the concerted parts, and almost to spoil whole scenes. This was notably the case with ‘La Sonnambula’ on Wednesday evening, where it seemed as though incompetent singers had been selected almost with reference to their inability to sing and as foils to the prima donna.”

Biographical sketch.

“It is satisfactory to record at last a brilliant and unmistakable triumph at the Academy of Music. The clever artists presented during the earlier part of the season have met with some favor, but roused little or enthusiasm. With Miss Albani, however, the case is very different. Her debut last night lacked none of the elements of the most exciting popular success. There was a densely crowded house, and the manifestations of delight which began before the prima donna had fairly finished her first aria increased in heartiness till the very end. There is not much in ‘La Sonnambula’ except the few hackneyed show pieces for Amina, and what else there is was indifferently performed, so that Miss Albani may be said to have carried the burden of the evening alone. Her appearance prepossessed the audience, and she greatly increased the favorable impression by a neat, elegant and expressive delivery of the little scene, ‘Caro compagne,’ introductory to the ‘Come per me sereno.’ This famous air showed her to be the possessor of a clear, firm, homogeneous voice, rich and flute-like in the middle register and sweet in the very highest tones, not specially sympathetic, but perfectly flexible, and cultivated almost to the point of perfection. She phrased the aria beautifully, and without lavishing upon it any supernumerary embellishments gave it a charming grace and brilliancy. The audience broke into exclamations of pleasure, which were repeated with additional fervor at the end of the Act. The second Act was perhaps a little disappointing, for it disclosed Miss Albani’s weakness in the concerted pieces; but the third redoubled the successes of the first, the ‘Ah non credea’ and ‘Ah non giunge’ calling out a perfect storm of applause. These two arias illustrated the two peculiarities of Miss Albani’s singing, the two pet accomplishments, if we may use the expression, by which she makes her best efforts. In the first we had a charming use of the mezzo voce, and a delicious delivery of soft sostenuto passages; in the second a brilliant employment of high staccato notes after a method which only two singers within our recollection have practiced with equal success, namely, Madame Lagrange and Adelina Patti. There was nothing extravagantly florid in Miss Albani’s treatment of the finale, but such ornament as she bestowed upon it was pure in taste and faultless in execution. After the close of the opera the audience paid her the compliment—unusual in New York at that time of the evening—of five calls before the curtain. Her acting is fair but conventional. Her personality is pleasing but not magnetic. Her voice and her vocalism are both beautiful, but she is not a genius, and we judge—though perhaps ‘Sonnambula’ does not offer a good test—that she will never deeply stir the feelings, or take rank among the great dramatic artists. That is not to say, however, that she is not already a prima donna of rare value.”

“Mr. Strakosch last evening fought the decisive battle of the operatic season entered upon three weeks ago. He introduced to an American audience Mlle. Albani, and, in so doing, won a great victory. All persons interested in the cause of art; all who believe that untiring exertions to elevate the public taste deserve a recompense; and, of course, all admirers of Italian Opera will rejoice over this fact. Mlle. Albani’s success, and, as a consequence, the success of her impresario, was not marked by the rendering of a merely favorable verdict, but by a rare demonstration of enthusiasm. The numerous, representative, and brilliant assemblage was aware that the achievements of the new comer were of an exceptional kind, and, departing from its wonted reserve, expressed in every imaginable way appreciation and delight. Mlle. Albani’s performance was so striking as to justify the most rapturous applause, and so finished as to disarm the coldest connoisseur. Her singing is perfect. Mme. Nilsson’s, in point of purity and elegance of phrasing, unerring accuracy of intonation, and general good taste, was vastly inferior to it; and we need scarcely say that Mme. Lucca’s rank as an artist is not the result of that lady’s mastery of the vocal art. Mlle. Albani’s work was a revelation. It was neither the offspring of wholly French schooling, nor of the commonplace teaching of Italian maestri, but something comparatively fresh to the ear, as grateful as the song of the bird, and as chaste and beautiful in tone and form as the delivery of a theme from the classics by the bow of Joachim or Vieuxtemps. We shall hear more of Mlle. Albani in other operas than in ‘La Sonnambula,’ but a dozen bars from any score would make the natural advantages and the culture of the prima donna apparent. Mlle. Albani possesses a magnificent soprano voice, so extended as to compass E flat in alt, and yet having abundant timbre in the medium. The voice is homogeneous; the tones are round and powerful; and the highest are as clear and as full as those in frequent use. To the exposition of these gifts the lady brings rare experience and taste. She strikes the tone required with exactly the right volume of voice, and with unerring accuracy, and the skill with which she swells and diminishes it, and the ability she has of prolonging its duration, are extraordinary. Her scales are at least as wonderful in the definition of every note, while no violation of the legato is ever approached, and her bravura passages are as fluent as her sostenuto is firm and forceful. The trill is unimpeachable, and so are the minor ornaments with which, be it said, Mlle. Albani is never prodigal. As for her phrasing, it leaves no chance for adverse criticism. In her case there might be some temptation to phrase badly, for her command of respiration is positively marvelous; but she is never led into an abuse of her capability in this direction, and nothing is ever sacrificed to effect. Had we permitted ourselves, writing under the influence of our recollection of Mlle. Albani’s London representations, listened to a few weeks ago, to say all this in advance of the artist’s appearance at the Academy of Music last night, we might have been taxed with exaggeration; we are satisfied now that no such charge can be brought against us. Judging from the new comer’s greeting last night, the audience was rather cold; if so, it needed only a few minutes to change its disposition. Hearty plaudits welcomed the entrance of the graceful figure and sympathetic face of the young prima donna who, for three or four years, has shared with Mme. Patti the laurels won at Covent Garden, but simple cordiality gave way to irrepressible manifestations of surprise and pleasure much before the close of the first act. As we have implied, Amina is but a small rôle, but it was of sufficient length to serve its purpose. The expressive delivery—calm, thoughtful almost, but of matchless chastity, and rare richness of sound—of  ‘Come per me sereno’ showed at once how splendid the method of the débutante, while the succeeding allegro, ‘Sovra il sen, with its ornate repetition of the theme, asserted her fitness to cope with florid music, not as a time-worn songstress, with large experience and the relics of a voice, but as the owner of young and exquisite tones. There is no occasion to follow Mlle. Albani through the opera. Four-fifths of Amina’s task is recitative, melodious recitative, it may be argued, but recitative, nevertheless, and we hardly think ourselves called upon to particularize after mentioning that Mlle. Albani’s articulation, pronunciation, and elocution are excellent; that she moves over the stage easily, and that intelligence, sensibility, and expressiveness were plain in her whole personation, whether in the pretty ‘business’ with Elvino at the end of the first act; in the touching scene, when she fancies, in her slumber, that her wedding is in progress; or in the tender emotion of the final incident of the story. It would be understood, even if we did not place the fact in print, that Mlle. Albani stirred her audience to an unprecedented pitch of excitement in the rondo just preceding the fall of the curtain on the reunited swains. Never, in the memory of the present generation, has ‘Ah, non giunge’ been given with the same wealth of tone, brilliancy, and surety. The sweet andante prefacing it, commencing, ‘Ah! non credea,’ was a fine specimen of eloquence in song, but the ‘broidery of the rondo carried the assemblage beyond the limits of ordinary admiration, and the air was broken in upon again and again by spontaneous outbursts of applause. After the opera, we have to add, Mlle. Albani was summoned three or four times to the footlights; A recall, also, rounded off each act. Mr. Strakosch, who, in spite of the troublous financial times we live in, had already presented to the American public, within two years, Nilsson, Maurel, Campanini, and Capoul, has now increased the debt of gratitude a hundredfold by the engagement of Mlle. Albani. Debts of this sort are debts of honor, and we sincerely hope that the triumph which yesterday crowned his labors will be an earnest [sic] of the repayment of the entire obligation.”

“It is not a matter of much difficulty to record the event of Mlle. Albani’s first appearance to opera in her native country. It can be told in a few words, and fortunately none but [pleasantries?]. It was in every sense an artistic triumph.

The opera in which she appeared was the ‘Sonnambula,’ and we hazard nothing in asserting that no representative of the character has appeared more lovely in person and more competent to fill every requirement of the role since the day when the divine Bosio sang it here.

The principal incidents of Mlle. Albani’s career are perhaps sufficiently well known, for such as may not have seen them, we may briefly say that she was born at [brief biographical sketch follows].

That she will at once become a favorite here is an assured matter. The impression upon her audience last evening was unmistakable. The beauty of her person and the grace, refinement, and modesty of her manner are sufficient to prepossess any audience at once in her favor. This pleasing impression she confirms by her substantial merits. These consist in the possession of a voice of a lovely quality, not large or very strong, but even, pure, and silvery, and of great equality of tone. Her phrasing and general method of singing are marked by tact, refinement, and the possession of every grace that comes from good and careful training.

The Sonnambula is not a character that calls for any great degree of dramatic power, but in the accusation scene of the second act Mlle. Albani made it clear that when those qualities should be needed she would be found to possess them. This will, however, be seen tomorrow evening, when ‘Lucia’ is to be given. For the present, therefore, we have only to record the advent of a new prima donna of gracious presence and of fine gifts, who, in all operas not requiring breadth and greatness of style, will be certain to give delight and satisfaction.

The welcome extended to her was not only cordial, but most enthusiastic. After each act she was repeatedly recalled, and at the finale, in which she made a decided impression by her singing of the ‘Ah, non Credea,’ the ovation was unanimous.”

“Mlle. Emma Albani made her first appearance last night at the Academy of Music. The opera selected for the introduction of this renowned prima donna was Bellini’s ‘La Sonnambula,’ in which Madame Adelina Patti was heard for the first time in London. The melodies therein contained are so much admired that the work is always welcome and never fails to please. It is true that Bellini’s themes are never so happily conceived as when he adopts the particular form of melody by which he is now best known, and that his music is seldom dignified, massive and forcible. Yet, nevertheless, while many contemporaneous operas are entirely forgotten, his ‘La Sonnambula’ still affords gratification.

Bellini’s power lies immediately in the fascinating charm of the melodies. They do not depend greatly on the harmony as an additional means of expression, though it is by no means weak or wanting in variety. Nor does this opera gain attractiveness by the sensuous effect of rich and elaborate orchestration, or the poetic beauty of the libretto, which is here neither edifying nor particularly attractive. But the melodies have been welcome to the greatest singers and instrumental performers for many years, and still are capable of novel forms of treatment.

In the celebrated Fantaisie by Liszt, the ‘Ah! perchè’ and ‘Ah! non giunge’ are played simultaneously. Though it is difficult to make these two melodies clear and easily differentiated on account of the similarity of the opening passage of each, yet the composition is always highly attractive to an audience, and proves to us how fully the great pianist reveled in these pure melodic forms by idealizing and elaborating them with such devotion, and by playing this work during his great triumphal tour in Europe.

Although for years these favorite strains have been heard from barrel organs and military bands, and have been converted into dance music and boarding-school piano-forte studies, yet they retain their freshness.

If proof were required of the vitality of the animating spirit of musical compositions, reference should be made to the themes in this opera.

What other artists than musical composers what painters, for instance, could invent forms hitherto wholly unknown and portray their features so perfectly that they might be detached by engravers or retouched by colorists, and metamorphosed in the numberless ways that these melodies have been, and yet in every case retain their individuality! The living spirit here proves its superiority over the materiality by which it is made manifest, by appearing unchanged in all these transmigrations.

At the rising of the curtain the Academy presented a most brilliant appearance, for the introduction of Mlle. Albani was a noteworthy event in the operatic world; and therefore great numbers thronged to this fashionable resort to learn if their high anticipations would be fulfilled—to hear the very first notes of the already-celebrated artist, who would represent to them Zerlina in Mozart’s ‘Don Giovanni,’ Rosina in Rossini’s ‘Il Barbiere,’ Lucia in Donizetti’s ‘Lucia di Lammermoor,’ and be prima donna in ‘Linda di Chaminoux,’ ‘Mignon,’ ‘Rigoletto,’ and in the promised opera by Herr Richard Wagner, ‘Il Vascello Fantasma.’

They were not disappointed. Her appearance was so prepossessing that on first coming into view she was greeted with loud and prolonged cheering. The quality of the first note intoned—the D, with which the recitative ‘Care Compagne’ begins—was sufficient to prove to many that a great treat was in store. The official programmes have for several days asserted that her voice commands ‘a compass of two octaves, extending to B flat in alt.’ But the high B flat at the close of this recitative was so large, full, strong and pure in quality and intonation, was produced and prolonged with such ease and freedom, that it was at once known her voice extended much higher. She subsequently sang an equally good C, and afterwards reached high ‘E flat.’ From these high notes the voice was conducted downwards without the unpleasant slurring through intermediate sounds so often heard in the best singers, which destroys the otherwise good effect that has been produced. The chromatic scale at the close of the cavatina ‘Come per me sereno’ was executed—so far as regards time and intonation—as perfectly as though it had been performed by a good flutist. From this point no fears were entertained respecting the thoroughness of her musical culture, the execution being so extremely good.

The great beauty of her voice was perceived from the first. It is fresh and strong and of most delicious quality; highly plastic, and in rapid passages has a peculiar purling, limpid character. The tone, even when pianissimo, has an expansive quality which attests its purity.

The sweet effect of some of the notes, which were formed on certain favoring vowels, and also those of the semi-tonic shake at the end of the aria, ‘Ah! non credea,’ was such that it would be difficult to illustrate in words.

The tone is also capable of inducing sympathy—of touching the secret springs of emotion. The audience hung with almost breathless attention on every note and inflection throughout this aria. The surrounding silence was almost painful. What greater homage could have been paid a singer? What power has that art which can raise us temporarily above the prosy details of our daily life, and even make us indifferent to the still more prosy and poverty-stricken realisms of this opera?

Her singing showed the severe course of training to which she has been subjected, and her acting indicated intelligence, good taste, and refinement. In grand operas, where great dramatic power is required, opportunities will be found in which her histrionic abilities may be fully exercised. This opera affords no scope for the display of great impetuosity, vehemence or passionate agitation. Mlle. Albani’s delivery of the text was greatly admired, the pronunciation and strongly marked variations of linguistic tone combining to increase the beauty and variety of the musical notes.

The audience made their enthusiasm known in no ambiguous manner, but signified at all convenient points, and sometimes also at inconvenient points, their high estimation of her voice, natural gifts, acquired talents, and also their warm welcome back to the country which is proud of and will do honor to those who by their illustrious reputations compel recognition and praise from transatlantic cities.”

“Last night was one of those gala occasions at the Academy of Music that seems to bring out the entire operatic public. A young American prima donna, who left her native shores some six years ago in the forlorn hope of becoming an accomplished and successful opera singer in Europe, and who gained her object in the most decided manner, returned to show her countrymen the result of her venture by practical illustration. The name and fame of Emma Albani have long since reached us from trustworthy sources, the unanimous verdict of the most critical people in Europe, and naturally anticipations on this side of the Atlantic were raised to the highest pitch. There were not disappointed. Her success was of that kind that may be justly termed artistic in the real sense of the word. So many American girls essay the same course and return without gaining the desired goal that we have latterly become skeptical on the subject, deeming that in the majority of cases injudicious friends, bad advice and worse vocal training in Europe tend to destroy whatever talent those aspirants originally possessed. But this is a glorious exception to the general rule, and New York last night confirmed the verdict of London, St. Petersburg, Paris and Italy. At the end of the opera the young prima donna, not long out of her teens, was called before the curtain seven times, the house unanimously joining in an outburst of applause, the ladies in the boxes waving their handkerchiefs and the gentlemen uniting in a volley of ‘bravos!’

The most melodious opera of Bellini, ‘La Sonnambula,’ will never lose its attractions with the public, although it may be considered in a comparative sense of the word as a one rôle opera, for, excepting a few pretty airs for the tenors and one for the basso, the honors belong to the prima donna. Amina after Amina appears, but still the attraction of the opera never ceases. In London they have had Pasta (the original Amina), Malibran, Persiani, Viardot Garcia, Romer, Jenny Lind, Gassier, Patti and Marimon, and in this city the following artists have essayed the rôle: Tedesco, Bosio, La Grange, Frezzolini, Sontag, Piccolomini, Kellogg and Di Murska. The interest in the simple story and the delight in the continuous flow of melody save this work from being consigned to the tomb of the Capulets, as has been the case with Bellini’s setting of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and many others of his works. It is now about forty-four years old and still retains its popularity. When the joyous belle of the Swiss village first appeared in that ecstasy of song in which a betrothed maiden, without a cloud to mar her happiness, would naturally indulge, and which Bellini has illustrated in the most delicious manner in the cavatina, ‘Come per me serena,’ and in the succeeding ‘Sovra il sen la man mi posa,’ the sympathetic voice and perfect vocal school of Mlle. Albani were at once revealed. Her voice is of light caliber, but so soft and velvety in timbre, so readily respondent to each phase of passion and expression, so even in tone throughout its registers, and so flexible and beautiful that her singing is a positive charm. The short duet with Elvino, portraying the betrothal, was delivered with faultless expression. In the next act, when Amina is surprised in the Count’s room by the villagers, the histrionic abilities of Mlle. Albani were brought into requisition. As an actress her stage presence, beauty and graceful style combine to give effect to a scene of this nature. The bewilderment of Amina, resulting from finding herself in a strange bedchamber, into which she had wandered in her sleep, the realization of the equivocal position in which she had innocently placed herself, and her despair at the reproaches of her betrothed, were delineated by Mlle. Albani with a vividness and power worthy of the dramatic stage in some of its best phases. Before the arrival of the villagers there is a short recitative by Amina, a sort of dream of love, which was interpreted by Mlle. Albani with rare sweetness of expression. The words ‘Elvino, abbraciami, alfin sel mio’have never before received a more touching or passionate rendering. But in the last scene, the joyful awakening to love and bliss after such a fearful dream, the prima donna achieved her chiefest triumph. We have heard a dozen Aminas, many of the names we have mentioned above being among the number, but we have never listened to a more thrilling, expressive rendering of the ‘Ah! non crede mirarti,’ than last night. The beauty of the voice of the young prima donna shone forth to the best advantage in this morceau, and there was a tinge of sadness veiling it which made it still more charming.

The ecstasy which fills the heart of the village maiden when she realizes to the fullest extent the reconciliation with her betrothed, and which is so aptly conveyed in the final air, ‘Ah! non giunge,’ was interpreted with such exceeding brilliancy and finish by Mlle. Albani that the house rose at her and the opera closed as an unbounded triumph for her. The chorus and orchestra were admirable last evening, thanks to the director, Signor Muzio, and the rôles of Elvino, The Count, Lisa and Martha were very inadequately filled.”