Strakosch Italian Opera: Messa da Requiem

“Today’s regular opera performance is canceled so that the final dress rehearsal for Verdi’s Mass can take place at the opera house. The mass is the newest of Verdi’s works and will receive its premiere tomorrow evening, in accordance with the composer’s instructions: a chorus of 150 voices, an orchestra of 80 instruments, and a well-staffed solo quartet. Signor Muzio, once a student of Verdi, will conduct his teacher’s work.”

Much like the Staats-Zeitung announcement of the previous day. “Herr Strakosch has done everything in his power to bring this new work before the public in a worthy manner.”

Critical and analytical notice of the new work. 

“Last night at the Academy of Music an opera in a tailcoat was given. The Requiem, which Giuseppe Verdi dedicated to the memory of Manzoni (who Göthe once called a ‘truly aimiable’ poet), was performed for the first time. Whether an opera house is the right place for such a work to be presented is not an easy question to answer. The church is, in our opinion, the right place for a musical obituary to be dedicated to the dead. In the bright, airy rooms of our opera house, the Requiem assumes a peculiar appearance, even if it is a piece by Verdi and, at first glance, categorized as a dramatic work. But really it is not an ‘opera in ecclesiastical costume,’ as Herr Hans von Bülow has claimed. Although it bears the influence of modern music, it is still in a strictly ecclesiastical style and could be performed in any church. It is an old debate that began with Mozart’s Requiem and was resurrected, with ferocity, for Rossini’s ‘Stabat mater:’ whether or not there is such a thing as a style of church music. We are not compelled to discuss this controversy here, although Verdi’s Manzoni-Requiem has brought the issue to the fore once again. Harsh critics have dismissed the work as unchurchly, while others have deemed it the best we have had in this genre in recent times. We also take a favorable view. Verdi’s Requiem is a great, meaningful work that is suitable for devotion. From the first quietly whispering chords, we are in a serious mood; they could be no other way in the house of a departed beloved. These chords put us in the right state of mind; they remind one of mourning emblems—black velvet decorations and clouds of incense rising slowly and solemnly to the vault of the church. Then comes the Kyrie in a strict four-part setting, which could compete with the best examples of church music. With the simplest harmonies and melodies Verdi here achieves an effect that could hardly be more beautiful. The focus of the entire Kyrie lies in the orchestra. Next, the words ‘Dies irae, dies ille’ are sung. The next highlight [Stanzpunkt] is a fugue for four voices, the ‘Lieber scriptus proferetur,’ a really masterfuly crafted fugue, which one could not find any better even in the works of Bach. A shinier, even more brilliant fugue, equipped with the best resources of the orchestra, follows in the Sanctus. Anyone who is open to be moved by music cannot fail to be deeply touched by the sacred nature of it. Crafted with such great contrapuntal skill, the number was so effective last night that it was enthusiastically redemanded by the audience, to be performed da capo. The ‘Agnus Dei’ and the following closing numbers furthered the favorable impression made by the Offertory and Sanctus, and what is more, provided additional proof that Verdi has erected a lasting monument to his famous compatriot. The performance by the members of the Strakosch opera troupe deserve the utmost praise in every respect. The soloists, choir, and orchestra executed their difficult tasks in the most satisfactory manner. Signor Muzio, to whom we owe gratitude for having the work here at all, conducted with sensitivity. The success of the work on the whole was very significant, though the impact of each individual number would have been greater had the choir been better presented. Because the men’s choir was placed at the very back of the stage and the women on either side of it, the interaction between the voices suffered. The Requiem will be given again next Saturday and Sunday. Unfortunately the house last night was not so full as one would expect for a premiere of Verdi, who is very popular here.”

“The Requiem Mass composed by Signor Verdi in honor of the memory of his friend Manzoni has been performed we believe only in Milan, where it was produced on the 22d of last May, the anniversary of Manzoni’s death; in Paris, where it was given under the composer’s direction at the Ópera Comique on the 10^th of June; and in New-York where, previous to the complete representation last night, it had been sung twice by a choir under the charge of Mr. Louis Dachauer, with organ accompaniment. Both in France and Italy it was heard with enthusiastic delight. In some other countries where it has not been heard at all, it has been sharply reviewed. Such dithering judgments were only to be expected. The Mass abounds in charming melodic phrases and startling dramatic effects which were sure to fascinate the French and Italian taste, and it betrays, besides many surprising crudities, a contempt for scientific formalism and the solemnities of genuine church music which could not readily be forgiven in Germany. Von Bülow called it ‘an opera in ecclesiastical costume’ (Oper in Kirchen-gewande), and the phrase was an apt one. Verdi is too great a master even of stage proprieties to forget the somber and awful spirit of his theme, and his poetical appreciation is too correct to permit him to decorate it with such light and elegant fancies as Rossini bestowed upon a kindred subject. The composer of the ‘Barbiere’ took up the pathetic text of the ‘Stabat Mater’ with as blithe and brisk an air as if he were setting the music to Beaumarchais’ comedy. The author of the ‘Messa da Requiem’ has reverently striven to preserve at least the outward forms of devotion, sorrow, and religious awe. But deeply though some of us may be moved by his sole and at times magnificent strains, we cannot resist the conviction that this is a work for the stage and not for the sanctuary; it is a sacred musical drama, and a text for religious worship. The fugue and the cantilena, the majestic roll of choral harmonies, the blare of rich orchestral passages, and the florid ornaments of a free accompaniment, are mingled after a fashion which purists will call scandalous. Although the fugue form is frequently taken up, it is never long sustained, and none of the writing in this style, except the double chorus at the end, is especially ingenius. But every page in the composition is theatrically effective. There are no dud passages. It is all fresh, original, unhackneyed.

Following the requirements of the Missal, the Requiem is written in seven divisions: 1. Requiem and Kyrie; 2. Dies Irae; 3. Offertory; 4. Sanctus; 5. Agnus Dei; 6. Lux aeterna; 7. Libera. It begins with a solemn and beautiful phrase in A minor, given out by the violoncelli and bassoons as softly as possible. The voices chime in on the seventh measure, tenors and basses murmuring the prayer for rest almost below their breadth, and sopranos and altos answering on the same chord. The beauty of this introduction is chiefly in the orchestral part, the chorus uttering little more than broken and dreamy interjections. A few measures of rather peculiar construction are assigned to four soprano voices, on the words, ‘Dona eis Domine,’ the voices giving merely the middle part in a series of harmonic resolutions which are fully wrought out by the orchestra; and then, with a change into the key of A major, the muted violins play the following charming little fragment of melody, while the chorus, still pianissimo, continues, ‘Et lux perpetua’ [musical example].

Suddenly the instruments are silent and the bass chorus breaks into the dying cadence with an abrupt change of key, setting us a fugue in F major, the ‘Te decet Hymnus,’ sober, vigorous, and strictly ecclesiastical, which the choir gives without accompaniment. Then the whole introduction is repeated, and we come to the real business of this first division, the ‘Kyrie eleison.’ Its motive is given out with great dignity and [illegible] by the tenor, and taken up by each of the principal artists in turn. The quartet is soon joined by the full chorus; this gives place to a double sestet, and the movement closes with a fine ensemble. The florid counterpoint in this number, supplied by the instrumental basses, will be generally admired.

The second division is by far the most important as well as the longest, and it is here, in the illustration of the great Judgment Hymn, that Verdi has been most lavish of his melodies and most ingenious in the arrangement of grand effects. The whole [illegible] comprises nine distinct numbers, several of which are conceived in the most majestic spirit. It opens fortissimo with an astonishing chorus in G minor. Bass and tenor first proclaim the ‘Day of Wrath;’ then the full choir bursts forth in a cry of terror and amazement, four parts shouting in octaves, on a note sustained four bars, while the second sopranos, second altos, and second tenors have a rapid undulating passage, and a striking agitato is executed by the strings. The rest of the verse, strongly accented by the bass tuba, is forcible, rather than grand, and the next verse, ‘Quantus tremor,’ borrows from its thin, frisky, and jerky accompaniment a theatrical character which does not belong to the vocal parts. Theatrical also, but unquestionably brilliant, is the allegro which ushers in the ‘Tuba miram.’ The blast of judgment is figured by trumpets in the orchestra, supposed to be answered faintly by others at a distance. To the clangor of trumpets are added gradually the rounder voices of the horns, and the movement goes on gaining constantly in animation and gathering force until it reaches a climax in a passage marked fff, tutta forza. Here, in the only orchestral episode of the whole work, Verdi had a magnificent opportunity, but he is not a symphonist, and consequently he was not equal to it. The effect of the trumpet passage was marred, to be sure, last night by an imperfect performance but one cannot look at the score without surprise at the weakness of the harmonies and the commonplace combinations of the climax. The trumpet scatters its ‘wondrous sound’ all through the succeeding short chorus, until the music breaks off suddenly, and a single bass voice represents the stupefaction of death and nature (‘Mors stupebit et natura’) at the spectacle of the resurrection. The idea is conveyed by the simple expedient of a long pause between repetitions of the word ‘Mors,’ the interval being partly filled by a broken accompaniment on the lowest A of the contrabass. The ‘Liber Scriptus’ is a fugue which calls for no special attention. The last part of the ‘Dies irae’ is repeated after it, and then we come to the trio, ‘Quid sum miser,’ an adagio in G minor, which opens with the following phrase for the alto [musical example].

This motive is very closely adhered to by the three voices,--and indeed the persistence with which the various parts repeat one another is a marked characteristic of the entire Mass. The accompaniment indicated above runs with some variation through the trio, the figure in semi-quavers being played by the bassoon. Sung by Miss Cary and Sig. Carpi with great tenderness and expression (the soprano part was not so good, but then it was also less conspicuous), this number made a deep impression, and we may expect to find it pretty often on the popular concert programme. For concert use, however, it will need some modification, as it ends abruptly, the bass chorus thundering in the key of [illegible] ‘Rex tremendae majestatis,’ [illegible] reply faintly in three parts. The [illegible] its character, and becomes for [illegible] piteous and sorrowful supplication, [illegible] a quartet which proceeds by a series of striking modulations as follows [musical example]—the chorus supplying a sort of continual [commentary?]. The movement, however, gradually quickens; the prayer becomes more passionate; the pathetic appeal for mercy turns to clangorous and almost despairing importunity. It dies away; and then the alto begins this melody [musical example].

It is a duet for the alto and soprano, the former taking the leading part. The theme is simple and is not very elaborately developed, and the accompaniment though effective is not at all brilliant; yet this is one of the salient numbers, and was certainly one of the most successful last evening. There, in short, just midway of his work, Verdi seems to have given free rein to his fancies. Discarding for the nonce all efforts at solemnity or religious grandeur, and all problems of musical scholarship, he pours out his sensuous melodies in an uninterrupted stream. Close upon the last cadence of the duet comes Sig. Carpi’s effective solo, the ‘Ingemisco.’ The following characteristic phrase marked dolce con calma, and varied afterward in this manner [musical example] gives a fair idea of the spirit of the piece, which not even the most frantic admirer of Verdi would think of commending as a specimen of funeral music, though its grace and elegance are beyond dispute. It ends with a familiar tour de force which enables Sig. Carpi to bring out an excellent high B flat. The bass solo, ‘Cantutatis,’ is not open to the objections which apply to the ‘Ingemisco,’ for it is noble and devotional in style, and not at all inferior to the preceding solo merely as a bit of absolute melody. A repetition of the striking chorus on the ‘Dies irae’ brings us back suddenly to the terrors of the judgment hymn and leads naturally to the grand concluding ensemble, built upon the following theme, which is given out first by the alto solo and afterward by the bass [musical example].

There is no great ingenuity in the harmonies of this piece, and certainly the subject is simple enough, but when the hymn finishes with the ‘Amen’ no one will be found in the mood to dispute the excellence of the whole effect.

The Offertory is a quartet with three themes, the first being the following andante phrase [musical example] given originally to the violoncello, and afterwards wrought into the vocal parts. The second is an allegro, ‘Quam olim Abrahae,’ which begins in canon form but soon drops it for a style better adapted to the composer’s tastes and education. The third is an adagio, for tenor solo with accompaniment by the other voices, and the melody is evidently borrowed from the Gregorian ‘Lamentations.’ The subjoined extract will show its beautiful spirit and give some idea of the charming string accompaniment [musical example].

Sig. Carpi’s delivery of this religious and elevated passage was delightful, and the whole quartet was given with admirable expression. The second theme recurs again, and then the four voices in unison intone with great solemnity the opening phrase on the words, ‘Deliver the souls of all the faithful departed.’ Then the offertory closes with this pretty passage for the solo voices unaccompanied [Musical example].

The soprano part here should be given with extreme lightness, and the A flat above the staff sustained with a firm, clear, but very soft tone. Miss Maresi had but an imperfect understanding of the passage, and her execution was sadly deficient in delicacy.

The ‘Sanctus,’ which forms the third division of the Mass, is a difficult double chorus, opening with a fanfare of trumpets; and although its themes are rather simple and its harmonies nearly all of a common pattern its effect is decidedly majestic. The first subject is interrupted by a soft choral phrase of great beauty on the words ‘Pleni sunt coeli,’ and it was mainly no doubt in consequence of this melodious passage that the whole chorus, after having been once admirably executed, was demanded a second time.

The ‘Agnus Dei,’ a duet for female voices, with chorus, is a remarkable example of great effects produced by very ordinary means. The melody is a bare and not particularly attractive tune, somewhat resembling plain chant. It is repeated over and over again, with little variation and no change of key except from the major to the minor mode and back again. Yet how admirably these unpromising materials are handled, turned over, touched off here and there with a bit of simple ornament, and illustrated with a poetical distribution of lights and shadows. Soprano and alto begin softly in octaves, without accompaniment. The chorus replied in unison, sustained by the violins. When the duet recurs, in a minor key, the orchestra adds a series of graceful and charming arabesques. The chorus in the major mode repeats its former passage, this time in harmony. The duet begins once more, and a florid counterpoint is supplied by two flutes and a bassoon; and so on. This exquisite number derived a great deal of its effect from the sympathetic and in every way delightful singing of Miss Cary. It was repeated.

The ‘Lux Aeterna’ is a trio for alto, tenor, and bass, the most remarkable passages of which are the fine declamatory phrase with which the alto begins the number; and the equally impressive close, where the principal part is taken by the same favored voice, the bass and tenor murmuring ‘Requiem aeternam,’ and a fascinating little passage for the orchestra accompanying the last measures of the song. This was performed admirably.

The ‘Libera’ is the climax of the Mass, and it is upon this part that Verdi has evidently bestowed the most of his hard work. It may be described as a highly dramatic and impassioned scena for the soprano, with an accompaniment of full chorus and orchestra, The beginning is a sort of recitative in monotone, senza misura, first by the solo voice, afterwards by the chorus. The ‘Dies irae’ is repeated. The whole of the ‘Requiem aeternam’ which we have already described as the introduction of the Mass, is sung once more, but with the important difference that the instruments are silent and the full harmony is given by the voices. Then we come at last to the great final fugue, the supreme effort of the composer, who apparently wished to show the world that the severest forms of music were easily within his grasp. The chorus was rather scrambling at this period of the performance, but the grandeur of the work was still apparent, and we can heartily agree with the common opinion that Verdi has here prepared a great surprise for his German censors. At the end the unrhythmical invocation, ‘Deliver me Lord from eternal death,’ is intoned once more by the soprano; the chorus whispers the response in unison; and the Mass dies away.

As for the performance last night, it may be inferred from what we have already said that while it was not perfect, it offered many opportunities for cordial praise. The chorus, numbering about 150 voices, was pretty well drilled, and a great deal of its work was excellent, though the precision and nicety of a regular choral society were, of course, not to be expected from a band of singers collected for special occasion. The most important solo part is the alto, and Miss Cary last night was all that the most exacting critic could require. Sig. Carpi was also admirable in all that he did. The bass, Sig. Fiorini, has not the voice which his part demands, but he sang with intelligence and taste. The great weakness of the cast was Miss Maresi, for whom the soprano solo in this work is altogether too severe a task. Sig. Muzio, to whose zeal and industry the highly creditable representation is due, conducted with his usual tact. The audience was not large, and the first part of the Requiem was rather coldly received. But as its beauties gradually unfolded the enthusiasm of the listeners rose, and the second part was applauded with great cordiality. It would be strange indeed if New-York were not strongly interested in the first production of a work of such high pretentions by the most popular of living composers.”

“The first recital in the United States of the Mass written by Signor Verdi to honor the memory of Alessandro Manzoni, and intended for interpretation by a vocal quartet, a chorus of unusual numerical strength, and a powerful orchestra, took place at the Academy of Music yesterday evening. The impression of the work, although favorable, was scarcely so deep as that wrought by its rendering in Italy. The circumstances attending its production in Milan conduced largely, it should be said, to its effectiveness. The mass was a tribute to the departed Manzoni, author of ‘I Promessi Sposi,’ the masterpiece of modern Italian literature. It was the latest achievement of the greatest of Italy’s modern composers. The four finest voices in Italy, and, hence, the four finest voices in the world, were chosen to sing the solos. Verdi himself directed the performance, and this occurred, not in a theatre, but in the Church of St. Mark, in Milan. The Requiem, made known under such auspicious conditions, was grandly successful. Here, so to speak, it stands upon its own merits, and the results of its public rehearsal, if gratifying, bear a slight proportion only to those secured abroad. The ‘Manzoni Mass,’ it ought to be mentioned, is not to be judged by one or two recitals. It is not so intricate that many of its beauties are not plain from the first, but a closer familiarity than a single hearing can beget is essential to a thorough understanding of its excellences. Certain it is that it is noble in thought, symmetrical in form, and admirably instrumented. It is not severely religious in spirit, but it is not theatric, and its most pictorial passages are devoid of exaggeration in motive and treatment. Twice or thrice, perhaps, a few bars suggest the hand of the composer of the most stirring lyric dramas of the age, but even in the vigorous handling of the chorus and orchestra in the ‘Dies Irae,’ there is nothing of artificiality, and a calm and devout atmosphere surrounds the remainder of the work. The mass includes seven divisions. It commences with a ‘Requiem’ and ‘Kyrie’ for the quartet, and a ‘Dies Irae,’ subdivided into nine pieces, follows. A ‘Domine Jesu’ for quartet; a ‘Sanctus,’ in shape of a fugue, for double chorus; an ‘Agnus Dei,’ beginning as a duet and closing as a quartet; a ‘Lux Eterna,’ for trio, and a ‘Libera Me,’ for soprano and chorus, with a final fugue, make up, with these numbers the score. The brief preface of the ‘Dies Irae’ does not contain much that is remarkable. The ‘Dies Irae’ is a tremendous tone-picture. It is terribly stormy, but it is not chaos, and the lines are as clear as those traced on canvas by the brush of Michel Angelo. There is shuddering in the descending passages for the violins; then come chromatic runs that shriek like affrighted humanity while the sounds of summoning trumpets add new terror to the scene. This most impressive part of the Mass directly precedes some fine measures for the bass, opening with ‘Mors stupebit,’ but demanding a voice and declamation of no common kind. The chorus ‘Liber Scriptus’ appeared to us rather eccentric than awful. A delicious trio, ‘Quid sum miser,’ embodying an exquisite and reverential theme, and daintily harmonized, succeeds it; and next in order is a sonorous and muscular chorus, with the initial words ‘Rex tremendae majestatis.’ The subsequent portions of the ‘Dies Irae’ are replete with nice details, the chalumeau, by the way, being used to give a pastoral coloring to ‘Inter oves locum praesta;’ but they do not come forth with particular prominence. Now and then the terrific chorus bursts out, but the section ends with the ‘Lacrymosa,’ embodying a sweet melody, a chorus for female voices, and a final unaccompanied quartet. Some beautiful bits of accompaniment by the violins con sordino are noticeable in the ‘Domine Jesu,’ the concluding progressions of which forcibly recall ‘Aida.’ A tuneful phrase begins ‘Hostias,’ which, in fact, is a very melodious quartet, and terminates like the previous piece. The ‘Sanctus,’ a spirited chorus, with a lively introduction by trumpets, afforded special pleasure and had to be repeated, and the tuneful and skillfully harmonized ‘Agnus ‘Dei’ awoke a similar desire in the audience, and was also sung anew. Some felicitous passages are observable in ‘Lux Aeterna,’ as well as several charming fragments in the accompaniment. ‘Libera me’ does not exhibit marked eloquence or charm, but, after a resumption of ‘Dies Irae,’ there is a refreshing ‘Requiem Aeterna.’ The elaborate fugal conclusion claims more precise execution than it has yet had before an opinion can be formed as to its fitness as a corollary of so important a work as the ‘Manzoni’ Mass. With the recital of the composition we have only room to deal laconically. Mlle. Maresi, one of Mr. Strakosch’s promising young artists, sang the soprano music with zeal and fidelity. Signor Carpi, who has a splendid voice, and uses it with good discretion, was the tenor. Signor Fiorini’s tones are scarcely so round and mighty as Verdi could wish, but we cannot expect the ‘cast’ listened to in Milan. The contralto’s share of the task fell to Miss Cary, who has long been recognized as a successful executant of sacred music. The orchestra did its work capitally, and, except in the last number of the ‘Mass,’ the chorus was equally proficient. The performance was directed by Signor Muzio.”

“At the Academy of Music last evening the Requiem Mass by Verdi, for soloists, eight-part chorus and orchestra, was performed in its entirety, for the first time in America. It did not attract a very large audience, nor appear to find great favor with those who attended; but occasionally, on the penultimate chord of a movement, a brilliant effect was produced by the prolongation and reinvigoration of the tone by the singers, which was succeeded by applause; but it appeared certain that this was a compliment to the performers and not an evidence of gratification afforded by the composer.

The chorus numbered about one hundred and fifty voices, which was small for the performance of eight-part fugues, for each section of the chorus would consist of less than twenty voices, and some of these could not, from the peculiarities of the stage at the Academy, be heard to so great an advantage as in a concert room or church. The ‘Sanctus,’ which was in the style of a fugue in eight parts, and therefore one of the most difficult to perform, was given, singularly enough, with the best effect, and appeared to find favor. Towards its close the first soprano singers sustained a high note so well that the house, taken by surprise, applauded loudly, and the fugue was repeated. The ‘Libera me’ was led off by the contralto singers, whose faded tones, unassisted by the orchestral instruments, were not calculated to please fastidious hearers.

All the fugues were taken at such a rapid pace, that the result was a confused noise. The harmonies jostled one another, not having time to spread, and the entries of the subjects were most indistinguishable, excepting those which were strengthened by the brass instruments; and these, especially the cornets, when occupied with the arpeggio theme of the ‘Sanctus,’ imparted to it quite a common, vulgar effect. At the excessive speed this subject sounded like an ordinary trumpet call. There were many strange effects produced, which were inseparable from the composition.

As a work of art, it is unsuitable to the concert room, and it is extremely doubtful if it is better adapted for devotional purposes. Its claims to recognition were fully set forth in our impression of yesterday, with reference to which, therefore, no more need now be said.

Mlle. Maresi found even the moderately high notes rather difficult to produce with a satisfactory quality of tone; and Signor Fiorini sang with a passionate tremulousness throughout, utterly regardless of the meaning of the text.

Miss Cary and Signor Carpi made the most of every opportunity that was available to give a satisfactory rendering of the parts allotted to them, and tried hard to make the more uncouth passages acceptable, for which the composer should be extremely grateful.

Signor Muzio performed a difficult and not over-pleasant task in teaching the chorus singers to intone correctly the odd progressions of sounds which frequently occur, especially in the fugues, and is entitled to great praise for the skillful manner in which the work was conducted throughout, notwithstanding its many objectless difficulties.”

“The performance of Verdi’s “Requiem Mass” at the Academy of Music last evening must be noted as one of the marked events of a not very eventful season. This is the first performance of this famous work, and Mr. Strakosch deserves the highest credit for the care, the taste and the energy he has shown in its production. Some time since we noticed in a foreign paper complaints that American managers showed more enterprise in producing the great musical works than the managers of their own opera houses. ‘Lohengrin’ and ‘Aida’ were cited as instances of this enterprise, and now, as another triumph, we add the ‘Requiem Mass.’ This work has excited the greatest interest throughout Europe. Elsewhere we give a critical estimate of it from a musical point of view. It only remains for us to thank Mr. Strakosch for having added this new trophy to his musical laurels, and to hope he may meet the reward due to his enterprise and courage. It has not been the best season for business generally, but there has been a ‘tidal wave,’ the skies lighten with a holiday glow, and Mr. Strakosch will, we trust, before he closes his season, reap the highest reward.”

“The mass written eight months ago by the greatest of modern Italian composers in memory of his illustrious compatriot, Alessandro Manzoni, and first brought out at Milan, was given for the first time in its entirety last night at the Academy of Music. As far as the production is concerned, a great deal of praise is honestly due to the manager, Mr. Strakosch, for quitting the beaten track of opera to satisfy the musical demands of some of his patrons, who wanted to hear the last work of a maestro endeared to them by the most melodious works of the present day, and to the conductor, Signor Muzio, to whose intelligent and unremitting endeavors much of the excellence of the performance is due. [Lists soloists]. The chorus and orchestra were very large in numbers, well balanced and had evidently emerged in thorough condition from a long, severe course of training. Judging from the general effect of their portion it compares very favorably with some of the best oratorio performances we have had in this city. The soloists, although they also had passed under the critical eye of Muzio, were not so successful. Miss Cary was admirable in everything she undertook in the mass, and added another wreath to the dozen or so she has been placing aside for the last two or three years. Mlle. Maresi did not succeed in many particulars in portraying the highly dramatic music that falls to the soprano in the work. Signor Carpi sang smoothly and without a flaw, and Signor Fiorni was utterly ineffective. There is something to be considered by a vocalist in the rendering of such a work as a Requiem besides the glitter and tinsel of the stage.

The funeral service of the Catholic Church, exemplified in its ‘Requiem Mass,’ is of unusual solemnity. No English translation can do adequate justice to the actual sublimity of the ritual, from the ‘Requiem aeternum dona eis Domine’ to the final ‘Libera me.’ The ‘Dies Irae’ is a poem of fifteen stanzas, each of which is a model in itself. The works of the two great minds who have essayed the task of photographing the words of the Requiem in fitting musical colors stand pre-eminent to the present day. The requiems of Mozart and Cherubini are now without anything that may be placed on terms of equality with them although widely dissimilar in character and treatment. Scores of composers have entered the same field, and few have quitted it even with credit. Verdi is the newest comer, and much was to be expected from a composer of such rare originality, undoubted genius and fertile expedients in aught pertaining to dramatic effect. Now there is abundant scope for dramatic effects in musically illustrating such a theme as the ‘Dies Irae,’ in which all the tremendous drama of the day of wrath, the final judgment in the valley of Jehosophat, is described in the most thrilling manner, with the tearful prayer of the Christian, the despair of the wicked, the awful earthquake and rending asunder of the framework of creation, the coming of the Judge, the sound of the archangel’s trump, the opening of the books and the thousand and one incidents of that day, such as Michael Angelo once depicted. Mozart, as became his child-like, tender nature and the calm majesty of his musical soul, wrote music to this theme which seems like a grand picture, that with the added light of competent executants, like what Raphael would have immortalized on canvas. The rugged grandeur and intensity of expression of Cherubini revealed another view of the subject. Verdi, adopting the purely dramatic side of the picture, goes to an extreme. We doubt very much if in any of his operas can be found such truly sensational effects. The composer seems not to have recovered from the ‘Aida’ state of mind when he undertook to pen a dirge over his deceased friend. Reminiscences of his last opera are very numerous in the mass. The best numbers, and those which appeal most strongly to the musician, are the ‘Requiem’ at the beginning; ‘Recordare,’ duet for soprano and mezzo soprano; ‘Confutatis,’ bass solo; ‘Lachrymosa,’ quartet and chorus; offertory, quartet, and ‘Sanctus’ fugue for double chorus.

The beginning of the mass with muted strings and prayerful voices is exceedingly mournful. The quasi canon ‘Te decet Hymnus’ is a reminiscence of the Gregorian chant. As the theme glides into a beautiful theme for the violins, which is interpreted at intervals by the voices whispering ‘Et lux perpetua,’ the movement flows on like a [sic]. All of this part is characterized by a solemnity and calm befitting the subject.

The ‘Dies Irae,’ commencing with an allegro agitato in G minor, is stormy enough to bring before the mind the idea of the last day were it not for the commonplace effects used. How different is the method employed by Cherubini! The charge of cavalry on a battlefield of a thunder storm is suggested to the mind rather than the terrors of the day of wrath. Very dramatic, yet smacking very much of the footlights, is the attempt to describe the shudder of mankind in ‘Quantus tremor est futurus.’ The climax of dramatic effect if reached when the trumpets call the dead to judgment. Four on the stage and four dans la coulisses reply to each other, and the impression made on the mind is of the most vivid kind. The outburst of the voices, like a response from the grave, heightens the effect. The broken utterances of the basso, ‘Mors–stupebit,’ are also very dramatic. The succeeding number, ‘Liber scriptus,’ cannot be called a fugue in the strict sense of the word, and is a very weak point in the mass. A trio, for soprano, contralto and tenor, ‘Quid sum miser,’ with a very peculiar and highly-colored accompaniment, beginning with flute and clarionet and fagotto, is desolate enough to portray the fears of the Christian mind when the thought of the last day is presented to it. This was given with much expression by Mlles. Maresi and Cary and Signor Carpi. The ‘Rex tremendae majestatis,’ with its overpowering enunciation by the basses and the passionate appeal, ‘Salva me,’ the latter presenting the most magnificent effects, modulating from key to key, seeming to become more impassioned and earnest as it proceeds until it ends in a wail for mercy, are some of the best thoughts of the composer.

Mlle. Maresi and Miss Cary then sang the duet, ‘Recordare,’ a morceau of the true Verdi type and a gem in its own way. The tenor solo, ‘Qui Miriam absolvisti,’ founded on one of the principal themes of ‘Aida,’ was given by Carpi without a flaw, as far as vocalization is concerned, but without adequate expression. The following bass solo, one of the most striking features in the mass, ‘Confutatis,’ is also based upon ‘Aida’ and was nullified by Fiorini’s style of singing. Then came a lovely quartet, ‘Lachrymosa,’ in B flat minor, in which the chorus afterward joined. The movement is full of grief and woe, and the management of the different parts is admirable. The abrupt manner in which it ends in G major is open to objection.

The offertory, ‘Domine Jesu,’ is an elaborate quartet, beginning with a cello obligato and a theme of rare beauty. There is much of the Gounod style of treatment of a melodic subject in this quartet. Its flowing measures and dignity of manner inspire admiration. The ‘Benedictus’ of Gounod’s mass finds a double in the ‘Hostias et preces tibi’ in this movement. We do not fancy the harsh abruptness of the phrase ‘Quam olim Abrahae,’ as it spoils the rest of the part.

A stirring, brilliant, well constructed and immensely effective number is the ‘Sanctus.’ The fugue, with double chorus, is the most difficult in many respects in the work, and no greater compliment could be paid to the admirable training of Signor Muzio than to say that last evening it went without a single objectionable feature, the parts being clearly defined and the phrasing intelligible and well marked. The number was heartily encored.

The ‘Agnus Dei,’ which is said to have been the great feature of the mass when it was performed at Milan and Paris, was also a decided success last night. We do not coincide in opinion with those who place it above the other numbers of the mass. It is ingenious rather than artistic, and its unison passages, with the eccentric coloring of three flutes, attracts the attention of those who prefer sensational to real musical effects.

Miss Cary sang the mezzo soprano part in the trio, ‘Lux aeterna,’ a great deal of which brings to the mind recollections of Meyerbeer, with the skill and finish of a thorough artist. The end of this remarkable work is very dramatic. It consists of the ‘Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna,’ given by the soprano, with the chorus and orchestra as an accompaniment. The soprano part requires such intensity of expression as would almost demand a Parepa or a Tietjens, and which was entirely lacking in Mlle. Maresi. The chorus was admirable in this number. The musical public are indebted to Mr. Strakosch and Mr. Muzio for such a representation, complete in the principal parts, of a work which has created a deep impression and much discussion on the other side of the Atlantic. As far as it may be regarded as a proper substitute for an opera on a regular subscription night an idea may be gained from the remark of a portly German manager in the foyer last night ‘Mein lieber freund, if you and I have von big dry goods store on de Broadway and ve make good beesness, dat’s all right. But ven we put up a sign to sell tea mit our dry goods and ve spend much money for the tea, dat’s not good beesness.”

[latter portion of review VERY difficult to read] “A requiem on the death of Manzoni should have a value for transcending that of ordinary compositions. Probably no writer of the past century has so endeared himself to the affections of his countrymen as the author of the ‘Promessi Sposi;’ and few lyrical writers have taken a nobler tone than that which inspires the ode on the ‘Cinque Maggio.’ Readers of Italian literature will not need to be reminded that in his world-renowned romance the author has displayed a breadth of knowledge, a wealth of description, insight, humor, and pathos, which stamp him one of the world’s great souls. The mind which could draw the character of Fra Cristoforo must be pure and lofty beyond ordinary measure, while the art which smiles so genially and quaintly from the picture of Don Abboudio claims rank with the most perfect of humoristic satires. Besides this, though no professional politician, Manzoni was in sympathy and intercourse with the foremost men of his time, and his name will always stand high among those of the brilliant and earnest men whose fortune it was to promote or to witness the grand reunion of the so long distracted Italian kingdom.

No wonder, then, that the offer of one of the most popular composers in Italy to write a fitting threnody on the death of their favorite writer should have been readily accepted. Verdi, as we are told, came to Paris, secluded himself from worldly distractions, and for months devoted himself religiously to the worthy development of his noble theme; nor was it finished till after his return to Italy. It was performed on the 22d day of May at the Church of San Marco and the Theatre La Scala, and, if we may judge from the Italian and French press, seems to have found applause and admiration both in Italy and France.

Its production here has naturally awakened earnest expectation and curiosity on the part of musical people. This was so much the greater inasmuch as the famous composer has, in ‘Aida,’ so recently given to the world, in very literal sense his recantation of former principles and tendencies in art, and his adhesion to the newer school which seeks expression rather than superficial melody. Musical people have been, and naturally, much exercised to know whether the composer of ‘Il Balen’ and ‘Di quella pira’ would do justice to the far more exacting claims of religious music, and that, too, the grandest theme known to the Christian world, the most solemn function of worship—the mass. Such was the problem—has it been adequately solved? Frankly, and with all deference to the opinion of European critics, to say nothing of our own, we can give no satisfactory, certainly no enthusiastic, answer. The work, as heard on Tuesday night, while it has many and evident merits, seems, in the [broad?] total, lacking in the great qualities which should go to the treatment of such lofty matter. Its good points are briefly some agreeable melody, correct, and often warm and rich, scoring for both voices and orchestra, and a feeling often dramatic and even pathetic, but rarely intense or grandly religious. But the melody is too apt to become tame, thin, and trivial; the score does not respond to the claims of the more exacting and intense passages of the theme, and becomes, especially in the [tutti?] and fortissimi, crashing, noisy, and conventional, and in many points the feeling wanders from the mark of mournful inspiration far back to the cheap excitement of the most ordinary stage lyric. Among the best passages may be cited the opening Kryie, which was smooth and expressive, the duet Recordare, and the quintet Lachrymosa, in the Dies Irae, and the last three movements, Agnus Dei, Lux Aeterna, and the [illegible] Libera Me, in which the author’s feeling for dramatic expression was unusually [illegible] and true. The opening references of the Dies Irae were [illegible] and incoherent, rather than [terrible?], and the Sanctus, so far from expressing the awe and veneration due to the great mystery of the Christian faith would have done [honor?], with the [illegible] movement [eight additional illegible lines in the paragraph…].

Sig. Muzio’s orchestra and chorus (both largely reinforced) stood him in good stead; their execution was at least as good as the work in hand. Of the quartet, the prominent figure was of course, Miss Cary. Never at her most triumphant moments of success in more mundane music have we had better occasion to admire the broad, simple, massive qualities of her voice and execution; they were on this occasion almost the salvation of the quartet. Carpi and Fiorini sang with their usual virtues and defects, no more. Signora Maresi was patently nervous and not up to the [illegible]; such large religious music needs greater breadth, firmness, strength, and color, in voice and [illegible] than she can yet supply.

Verdi’s long expected work will probably supply some available [illegible] to our church quartette chorus. That the public will earnestly demand its repetition as a whole is open to more doubt; [illegible] its evident and taking qualities may be expected to commend it more directly to popular taste than to the [illegible] approval of trained critics and lovers of music.”

“Academy. Special notice for the choir. Choir members are hereby informed that the performance of the Requiem Mass will not take place this Saturday evening, November 21.”

Postponement until further notice of second performance scheduled for Saturday evening.