Grau Italian Opera: Dinorah

“There is talk of an operatic venture under Mr. Ullman’s management, with Cordier as prima donna.”

Debut de Mlle Cordier.

“The Academy of Music advertising for a goat is a pretty good ‘goak’.”

“This lady [Cordier] has the reputation of being an accomplished artist and an excellent exponent of Meyerbeer’s music. The rest of the cast is equally satisfactory, and the opera will be brought out with all the advantages of new scenery and a largely increased orchestra – at least so say the bills.”

“The cordiality of the reception given to [Guerrabella, Lorini and Morensi] has induced a change in the arrangements for this week. The production of ‘Dinorah’ and the debut of Mlle. Cordier, which had been fixed for Wednesday, are postponed to Monday next – a delay that cannot but prove advantageous to the general effect of the opera, which, as yet has had but imperfect rehearsal.”

“[Cordier] is French.”

“The three prime donne which Mr. Grau has had the good fortune to present to the public have met with so much favor, and the desire to see them in other works is so universal, the impresario has wisely determined to postpone the production of Meyerbeer’s new opera until Monday next. In this way there will be additional time for rehearsal.”

“As Completely As Possible in every respect.”

“’Dinorah,’ goat (no goak) included, is set down for the 19th.”

“A GRAND ORCHESTRA OF 50. AN ENLARGED CHORUS.”

Cast, time. “The performance will commence with the GRAND SYMPHONIC AND CHORAL OVERTURE, THE PILGRIMAGE TO PLOERMEL, being a musical description of the events that are supposed to have taken place prior to the commencement of the action. It will be performed by THE GRAND ORCHESTRA OF FIFTY AND THE INVISIBLE CHORUS. The musical portion of the Opera has been prepared and carefully rehearsed by Signor MUZIO.”

Gives the plot of the opera, the current cast, and some history. “Mlle. Cordier is an arch, piquant actress, and a singer to whose voice and style the part of Dinorah seem especially adapted. Morensi will easily manage the beautiful music of the goatherd. Amodio has a part which will fully test his powers both as a singer and an actor, as the baritone lover, Hoel. Much curiosity is excited by the debut of Brignoli as a comic singer. . . . In the reaper’s song, however, Brignoli will appear to better advantage, and Susini has a fine solo as the hunter. The opera has been carefully rehearsed for two weeks past. The new scenery is by Calyo, under the superintendence of Mr. Ullman. . . . The goat is in excellent condition, and knows its part correctly. Last week, quite an excitement was caused in Irving place by the sudden disappearance of this very useful animal. Grau tore his hair with rage. Ullman shed bitter tears of disappointment. A strong force of the Academy employees was mustered, and set out in search of the goat in light marching order and with three days’ provisions in their haversacks. During the absence of this army, a gentleman from the squatter settlements uptown waited upon Mr. Grau and offered him a goat ‘which was much better than the one that was lost, as it would give two quarts of milk a day, easy.’ While Grau was cogitating this offer, however, his scouting party returned with the original animal, which had been found rehearsing its part in the quiet seclusion of Gramercy park. Every accessory is now complete, therefore, and the opera will be produced in a style which reflects credit upon the liberality of the manager and the taste of his assistants. The audience will be very large this evening, and nearly all the seats are taken for Wednesday night.”

Brignoli sings the “Famous Reaper’s Song.” The opera “will be given with new and magnificent scenery by Calyo, a Grand Orchestra of Fifty, an Enlarged Chorus.”

“The excitement in operatic circles about the goat is becoming more and more intense, and will culminate somewhere about 9 o’clock tonight.”

". . . The opera will be performed by the elite of the company. The public of New York should be thankful to Mr. Grau’s efforts to bring us a brilliant season of opera. Few directors would have been so courageous, since staging and opera by Meyerbeer is always the task of a Titan. Mr. Grau has heretofore succeeded. . ."

     “The fashionable world is never agitated by the announcement of a new opera. Speculations as to plot, music and scenery, may be heard on all sides the moment the coming of the stranger is heralded. The public which has enjoyed rapturously the renditions of the ‘Trovatore,’ of ‘Norma,’ of ‘Lucrezia’ and the ‘Traviata,’ becomes unfaithful to those old loves, and with anxious expectation burns to enter upon the new. Fanciful rumors as to magnificent scenery, beautiful airs for the favorite artists, in fact a mass of pleasing novelties gain ground among the habitués of the opera, and when at last the long wished for representation comes the house is always crammed from parquet to dome. Manager Grau fully understands this phase of public character, and has provided for his patrons a novelty—Meyerbeer’s last work ‘Le Pardon de Ploermel,’ or, as the translation in Italian has it, ‘Dinorah.’ Added to the production of an opera which is a novelty to a New York audience was the fact that Mlle. Cordier was to make her debut in the principal character—Dinorah. This lady, a French artist, has sung at new Orleans.

      Meyerbeer’s works the public are familiar with—‘Robert le Diable,’ the ‘Huguenots’ and the ‘Prophete.’ There operas have been successful. ‘Robert’ and the ‘Prophete’ are popular, the latter being a work displaying undoubtedly more genius than any other of the master’s productions. On the French stage these opera are greatly appreciated by the public, ‘Robert’ always drawing large audiences at the Imperial Academy. ‘L’Etoile du Nord,’ which preceded ‘Le Pardon de Ploermel’ at the Opera Comique, in Paris, was an immense success. In this country the music of the opera was, we believe, but little appreciated. The success of the ‘Etoile’ in Paris induced Meyerbeer to compose ‘Dinorah,’ and we are aware that upon this work the great master devoted more time and labor than upon any of his previous operas. 

     He reviewed and corrected the music until he had changed almost the whole of the original composition. He himself overlooked the painting of the scenery. The rehearsals continued by his special request for four months, and Marie Cabel, the original Dinorah, was so overworked by the indefatigable composer that from a most decided embompoint she became thin and nervous. Notwithstanding all the rehearsals Meyerbeer went each night to Cabel’s residence and made her sing her role over and over again. At last the great occasion of the long-talked about, anxiously expected first representation of ‘Le Pardon de Ploermel’ arrived, and the house was literally jammed. The composer had at his own cost procured the attendance of musical critics from London, Berlin, St. Petersburg, Vienna, Milan, Madrid, Barcelona, and, in fact, from each capital or important city in Europe. The scenery cost the administration of the Opera Comique over one hundred thousand francs. The waterfall, a real torrent, was so disposed that it struck upon a huge iron plate which was attuned to the orchestra—in other words, was in accord with the music. The goat, an important character, a pretty milk white creature, drove the master nearly mad. She would and then she would not perform her rôle. At last one of the choristers hit upon a plan which succeeded. The poor creature (we mean the goat) was kept without food all day. At night, during the performance, she was let loose at the proper moment and at the right side of the scene; at the other stood the chorister in question with a head of cabbage, at which the poor hungry goat dashed, crossing the bridge thrown over the torrent at a rapid pace. Upon the first representation of the opera the people of Paris listened to the overture in silence.  It concluded without any applause being given. At the shadow dance the first tokens of satisfaction were heard. The rest of the performance was gone through without any marked success. The fact was, so much had been said about the new opera, expectation had been so greatly aroused, that the public was astonished at the easy style and natural melody of the new work; and at first scarcely appreciated it. Subsequently ‘Le Pardon’ became a great favorite in Paris. Before going into the merits of last night’s reproduction, we wish to give a few details concerning the composer. 

[paragraph on Meyerbeer’s education and misconception of some to ‘Dinorah’] 

     Long before the hour announced for the commencement of the opera, the theatre was filled to overflowing. A most fashionable audience was present, the display of elegant toilets being greater than on any previous occasion since the opening of the season. The overture was performed with tolerable ensemble. It is an introduction to the opera, of a descriptive character, which will be better appreciated by the audience when fully conversant with the plot. Hoel (Amodio) and Dinorah (Mademoiselle Cordier), who were upon the point of marriage at the preceding ‘Pardon,’ the occasion chosen by the simple peasantry of Brittany as a day of confession, absolution and wedding, were separated by a violent storm and remained ignorant of the fate of each other. The overture describes these circumstances with an accuracy which becomes more thoroughly appreciated the oftener it is heard. The wedding chorus, drowned by the howling of the storm, the rush of the waters, the confusing attendant upon such a scene of terror and dismay are admirably depicted by the overture, and its rendition taxes to the utmost  the powers of the orchestra. As we said above this overture was fairly given, although it met with brilliant applause from the audience. We repeat that at each representation it will become more and more appreciated. The first act introduced the debutante, Mlle. Cordier. She is petite, has a pleasing expression, is thoroughly French in her style, both as regards singing and acting, and is, no doubt, from this very fact, the better adapted to the part of Dinorah, which was composed for Marie Cabel, and great care taken to fit it to the exigencies of the theatre (the Opera Comique) and its habitues. The opera, we think, loses from its translation into Italian, which renders it heavier, less sparkling, in fact more important. Mlle. Cordier’s voice is pleasing, not of great volume, but well cultivated. Her style is, as we said above, French, equally so in voice as in acting. Brignoli, who, as Corentino the goatherd  and piper had a role which those accustomed to this favorite tenor’s rendition of Alfredro [sic], Gennaro, and other elegant amoureux, would consider as infra dig., sang what fell to his lot with his usual effect, although we must say that had he worn a wig such as the peasants in Brittany do wear, and dressed in a style more like that of a common goatherd, he would have rendered the character more plausible. The elegant tenor found it quite impossible to adapt himself to the exigencies of the role, and gave none of its ludicrous side. He should be a cowardly avaricious boor; he appeared more like a seigneur of Brittany than one of its common peasants. Amodio, as Hoel, the gloomy distracted lover, appeared to great advantage. He dressed the character to the life and sang well, meeting with deserved applause. The trio at the end of the first act—Amodio, Brignoli and Mlle. Cordier—was well rendered, and met with the first evidence of genuine applause which had been bestowed by the audience. 

     During the first entreacte, it was whispered about the house that General McClellan was present, and a general rush took place to catch a glimpse of ‘Little Mac,’ as we heard him freely styled. He was, however, not in view, and the disappointed crowd slowly dispersed.

     The second act of ‘Dinorah’ includes the favorite shadow song, which Mlle. Cordier executed with taste and skill. The encore was a hearty one, and was rather injudicious in its hasty application, as the song was but half terminated when the bravos and clapping of hands began. Dinorah remained on her knees, bowed to the storms of applause, and then finished her song. She was called back, and once more delighted the audience with her fine rendition of this air. It always is the favorite morceau of the opera. During the second act, as was described in the account of the plot given in our previous resume of this opera, Dinorah falls with the broken bridge, and Hoel rushes to the torrent to rescue her. The scene was effective, and was duly applauded. A duo, which occurs in this act between Hoel and Corentino was received with favor. 

     The second entreacte was marked by the occurrence of the long desired ovation to Gen. McClellan. He was descried seated in a loge over the stage, and as the curtain fell upon the second act, loud and continuous cheers for McClellan were heard. He retreated to a corner of the loge, but in vain; he had been seen, the audience knew he was present and so did Signor Muzio. He waved his baton and the strains of the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ fell upon the ears of the excited people. All rose to their feet, the occupants of the General’s loge doing the same. We noticed the Hon. John Van Buren pushing the General forward. Shouts greeted him. ‘Hurrah for McClellan,’ ‘Three cheers for McClellan,’ and perforce the General stood a little forward and bowed to the audience. He retreated, however, instantly. Signor Muzio did not intend letting the General escape so easily. He once more waved his wand and ‘Hail Columbia’ added to the excitement of those present. The ladies clapped their hands, shouted for McClellan as loudly as the gentlemen, and waved their pocket handkerchiefs. The General was once more put forward by the Prince, and again he bowed. He then retired to a corner of the loge with a look of determined resistance to any further continuance of the ovation, and the audience had the good taste to acquiesce with his evident desire. 

     The third act of ‘Dinorah’ introduced the famous Reaper’s song, which Brignoli gave with great cheer. Morensi, as the Goatherd, and Miss Stockton then sang a pretty duet – in which the pure, fresh voice of the former was most pleasingly heard. They were succeeded by Hoel (Amodio) bearing the inanimate form of Dinorah. Here Amodio sang his most effective air, and was heartily applauded. The act ended with the chorus, as in the overture and the wedding song. 

     We predict that each representation of ‘Dinorah’ will enhance its reputation. This occurred in Paris. The music is light and requires repetition; in fact the taste for it grows by the enjoyment of it. 

     ‘Dinorah’ is an opera largely dependent upon scenery, as much of the music is descriptive. We must say that Manager Grau has done a great deal in this respect, but still the scenery is not as good as it should be. The effect of the opera is lessened by this, and we recommend that more display be made in this particular. The result will repay the management fully.”

     “The public has been ready if not eager for some distinct novelty in the production of opera. Novelty must be in fact as well as name. The bow and dagger of the Italian school—the Italians have forgotten to laugh any more at the opera—would not be novelty, if repeated under a new name. We have had enough of that in plots, good like that of Lucrezia, and worse than bad, as that of Trovatore. Relief, in scene, sentiment, dramatic construction, is required by the law which makes variety the necessity of life, not as the proverb imperfectly says, the spice of it.

     A very large and brilliant audience was assembled last night at the Academy of Music, to enjoy the first presentation of M. Meyerbeer’s latest work, Dinorah. The weather finally favored the Muses. Clear skies, if not a conciliatory temperature, enabled all, whether walking or driving, to attend, who desired to do so.

      The composer of the opera played last night, M. Meyerbeer, is no longer a young man. He is in the dark autumn of life; but still younger than the Hon. Josiah Quincy, who says he enjoys life hugely without the early botherments of love and so-forth, and Mr. Quincy is ninety—was a young man at ‘the Court of President Washington’—to adopt that wonderful phrase, whatever it means. So we may, according to this rule, consider M. Meyerbeer in the prime of life, for we believe he is only turned of seventy. Unlike the charming, genial, elegant Mr. Quincy, M. Meyerbeer does bother himself with love—plots. He fights his battles over again. A whole generation has gone under the green sod, and another has grizzled, since M. Meyerbeer first began to write music—to find the highest expression of his emotions not like his brother in penning tragedies in blank verse—but in the more indefinite sonorousness of musical rhythms. [the paragraph continues with resume of his life and career.]

      It will be seen by this that M. Meyerbeer is not a quick worker—or not so to the knowledge of the public. Thirty odd years for five operas is an odd contrast to the marvelous fecundity of Rossini, who whether it was on the Barber or on William Tell, dashed off his ideas which time cannot dim or art improve, with irrepressible fervor and rapidity.

      In all M. Meyerbeer’s works he takes care of his orchestra. In this department novel uses of instruments were made by few composers before M. Meyerbeer first began to write for the orchestra; and Weber put instruments to new potential uses. We find in the scores of others of the second epoch of the classic school little more than the usages of Mozart’s time. We are not speaking now of ideas but of orchestral treatment simply. In Dinorah, of course, M. Meyerbeer makes use of his instrumental palette, according to custom—painting situations by suggestive tones when possible. The situations are good for special orchestral treatment as will be seen by the following Argument.

[Paragraph summarizes the plot.]

      An orchestral symphony, interspersed with a chorus behind the curtain, is played. Music can by allusion alone tell a story, and then it is necessary for the hearer to know, what the composer is ‘driving at:’ and if the outlines of the subject be sharp and clear, and the composer be master of his trade, a pretty definite statement by mere sound is sometimes possible. Sometimes not even then. M. Meyerbeer, accordingly, in this symphony, gives us some rural hurdy-gurdyisms, pipings, bell-tinklings, and suave fluencies of sound which may be taken for the soft satisfactions of quiescent nature. About what the chorus are engaged                         

     There can be no doubt. Like good Bretons and Catholics they are offering their simple orisons to the Blessed Virgin. Besides this prayer taken up and dropt hectically, there is a snatch of a religious march. Melodramatic, languor, grief, insanity, and so forth, figure in connection with the scene paintings: and there is some hurly-burly due the difficulties which a cracked girl with a goat encounters in scouring hill, forest and precipices after the lover who is fool enough to be half-cracked also. We beg to mention that Mr. Ditson of Boston has republished the English edition of the opera with Italian and English words (original French set aside); and the translation being by an English critic and scholar, Mr. Charley, may be recommended as pertaining to our language in particular—in which it differs from the so-called ‘standard’ original English translations of most other operas, which are so bad as to be curiosities of literature.

      The prefatory business being got through in the Sinfonia Argument, the curtain rises on a Brittan bit of landscape, with the cottage, the interior revealed, of Corentino, a shrine, rude rocky steps, etc.; and where goatherds and shepherds sing accordingly to their calling, words anglicised by Mr. Charley thus:

                            The bright autumn day

                             Is fading away;

                    Thyme and broom and heather

                    Scent the moor together.

                             My flock, white and gray,

                             Hither from your play;

                     On the hight [sic], or in hollow,

                     Come at a call, your herdsmen follow

                             Yonder in the gloom,

                             Dwarf and brownie roam--

                             Waiting to slay All they find astray,

                                              etc.

         This chorus is written with leading soprano, and Miss Morenci, doing a peasant without a name, and accompanying parts. Of the value of the central idea, or main melody in it or other pieces, we shall offer no opinion. Time, popularity, and experience not to be set aside, determine such questions. A melody may be musically impeccable on paper, and in the voice of the singer, and yet just want something to give it afflatus. In regard to the ingenious writing, the careful Mosaic work of M. Meyerbeer, there cannot be two opinions.

      The second air is preceded by the waving orchestral passages with which the Symphony opens: they are the precursors; along with bell-tinklings of the presence of Dinorah; and as that wandering fair was played and sung by the debutante, Mlle. Cordier, a stranger, utterly so, to our boards, we may here state something about her. Mlle. Cordier is a young French lady, who has the talent to do the part in Italian—subject to the drawbacks of translation. She acts well and has a great deal to do as an actress. Her voice, without being of the first quality, has a large range, cast flexibility, command over half-tone passages, hills, and other difficulties. Where she got hold of a square clear melody—as in the shadow dance scene—of sufficient snap and rapidity to catch the p0opular ear, she obtained a tumultuous encore. Her appearance was successful in a part written up to the ability of the highest class Sopranos of the Opera Comique, Paris.

       The introductory piece of Dinorah is fitful until we get to the Cradle-song. The undulations of the orchestra mark the business. On this there is simple melody, major at first, and rocking into minor and out of it again.

      No. 2 A is an air of the Breton pipe, and some recitative by Corentino (Signor Brignoli)—whose appearance with the bagpipes was comical.

      No. 3 is an air by the same individual—a strofe—of quaint texture and D, ¾ time. It is too wild in its simplicity—rapid changes from minor to major—interjections of triplets and so-forth to be popular—like little bits of plainer tune.

      No. 4 is a Duet, betwixt Dinorah and the other ‘miserable.’ Dinorah begins by mimicking the shepherd’s pipe: and then the duet begins. This winds but with some super triplets good for brilliant vocalization; and goes into two more movements, where the crazy maiden wanders about yet in triplets of music. After some interjectional exclamations Dinorah help the Academicians to a simple strain of some Bretonish quality, with a Scotch bit a la Robin Adair. Then she goes off in more recondite and lively strains where her simplicity requires very good intonation of difficult passages and transitions.

     No. 5 is and aria by Höel, in E minor, 9-8 time, where that gentleman discusses his unfound gold with as much eagerness as if it were at 37 per cent premium, and deposited in the Chemical Bank. There are various transitions in this piece, warranted by the high state of financial excitement into which the gentleman is thrown by his air-castle. Only the connoisseur can fully sympathize with the peroration harmonies which portray the rise of gold and so-forth.

      No. 6 is a Scena e Scongiurazione—where there is much ingenuity exhibited by the composer to detail the different emotions of the excellent pair—Corentino and Höel. This is [in] common time, and [in] several keys.

 [No. 7 is not discussed.]

      No. 8, is a Terzeteno: a most ingenious piece of voice-writing—and all about the silver-bell.

      No. 8 A—is an Intermedio.

      No. 9, Chorus in which men are bawling-out for wine; and women more sober, discuss the fact that the morrow is a feast day.

      No. 9 A—is a Capricorn discussion—Solo and Chorus.

      No. 10 is recitative and romance—the air quite an oddity in some phrases.

      No. 11 is an Aria of Dinorah—unconventional and crazy-wise and befits the girl.

      No. 12 is a Canzone by Corentino—which is also unconventional and deals in numerical figures.

      No. 13 is the Legend told by Dinorah, while the orchestra trembles under the weight of the announcement.

      No. 14 is a Duet between Höel and Corentino, in which they discuss the gold—Höel, fine fellow, only wanting Corentino to touch the treasure first and then die—according to the legend, he then becoming heir on the spot.

      No. 15. Terzetto Finale between the masculine worthies and the crazy girl—very elaborately notated, and the climax finely worked-up—with an unusual ending.

      No. 15 A. is a rural entr’acte.

      No. 16. Is a hunting-song—sung effectively by Signor Susini—who condescended to do a peasant without a stage name.

      No. 17. A harvesters-song by Signor Brignoli with a sickles.

      No. 18. A goatherds song or duet by Miss Morenci and another. The pieces are independent of the progress of the play.

      No. 19. Scena and prayer by peasants.

      No. 20. A Romanza by Höel in which he shows signs of coming to his senses and was much applauded.

     No. 21. Duet and Finale—being ‘Bless you, my children’ of the happy wind-up, Dinorah having found her brains too. To make the cure complete she hears the AVE MARIA of the peasants, who happen that moment to be putting up their prayers. They enter; and the excellent Corentino asking about the treasure, Höel points to Dinorah. After that there was nothing more but to invoke grace once more and let the curtain fall to an exultant solo by Dinorah, which was done accordingly—amid loud applause likewise.

      In regard to the music it may be said that M. Meyerbeer writing to an idyllic subject should be idyllic—that is very simple in his forms and modulations. Then on the other hand simplicity is not so easy, along with original interest. But he had more than peasants to deal with. The three characters are all more than peasants; they are crazy in degrees. Höel is half cracked in his supernatural hunt after gold. Corentino is three-quarters cracked by nature, and keen only in avarice and meanness; and Dinorah is cracked altogether. So that a delineator of their insanities lyrically must deal with the abrupt, the involved, and the scientific as contradistinguished from simple melodies on simple harmonies.

      There were calls before the curtain; and we judge that the opera gave great pleasure to the immense audience.

      --At the fall of the curtain on act second, it was discovered that Major-Gen. McClellan was in a second-tier private box cotangent with the stage. Although he came to be let alone and enjoy the entertainment, he was not allowed to pass incognito. The band struck up Hail Columbia—the General has to present himself at the front of the box to let some see him—only a few comparatively could do so, as those acquainted with the construction of the proscenium boxes and the rest of the auditorium, know. Then the orchestras played The Star-Spangled Banner, and General McClellan came forward again and bowed to the plaudits he received—the audience standing while the musical nationalities were being uttered.

     “’Academy of Music.--Meyerbeer's  new opera, 'Dinorah’ was produced here last evening, for the first time in New-York, and met with decided success. An extended notice of the opera is unavoidably crowded over. The house was crowded to its greatest capacity. Among the visitors was Gen. George B. McClellan, who, being recognized, was greeted with cheers and honored with the National anthems.”

"For a first performance of an entirely new opera, yesterday's performance was remarkable in every way. The honor, from the point of view of the work of preparation, is shared between M. Scola and M. Musio [sic] who [both] conducted. M. Grau proved once again an able director.

From the artistic point of view, a performance that combines the first appearance of an artist with the first hearing of an unknown score can't be judged in a few lines. There were great merits and great weaknesses. But the whole [thing] was dominated by the success Mlle Cordier gained through her admirable talent as a singer and her elegance as an actress.

We set our limits here for this evening, inviting our readers to keep their places for tomorrow."

     "Academy of Music.--Meyerbeer's new opera, 'Dinorah,' produced here on Monday, will be repeated to-night. The work is not altogether unknown in America. It was played in New Orleans an 1860--the year of its production in Paris--and the principal morceau, the 'Shadow Song,' has ever since been a favorite in the concert-room. Judging from the reception given to the first performance of the work, it seems probable that it will arrive at a fair and speedy popularity to New-York. . . .

[paragraph on the opera's plot]

     The continuous interest of the opera depends almost exclusively on two voices, a light soprano and a high baritone--representing respectively Dinorah and Hoel. All the rest is mere 'filling in' for the sake of effect, or for the purpose of imparting action to the story.

     Mr. Grau is fortunate in possessing Mlle. Cordier his heroine. Without any marked characteristics of voice beyond those defects of quality which are always noticeable in French singers, this lady has so many claims to kindly considerations that her presence just now is indeed most opportune. She vocalizes with skill, and with a clear and elegant perception of the nice adjustment of phrases. The music is alternately coquettish and brilliant–verging in some scenes toward the grotesque. These aspects are most happily seized by Mlle. Cordier, who not only sings well and makes the most of a small voice, but acts with rare spirit. The shadow song in the second act taxes the ability and grace of any performer. No applause during the evening was more properly bestowed than on Mlle. Cordier’s rendering of this difficult and embarrassing scena. The other rôle (Hoel’s) has been chopped, and trimmed, and rasped to the smallest proportions, but is still interesting, and can boast some of the finest music in the opera. It was intrusted [sic] to Signor Amodio, and very well played by that gentleman. We have no Italian baritone in the country who could sing satisfactorily all the music of the part in the keys wherein it is written. Next to this, it is best to be content with the portions vouchsafed to us, especially as they were very carefully and acceptably rendered. A mere glance at the other characters must suffice.Signor Brignoli having but little to do in the awkward character of Corentino, has, with meritorious courtesy, undertaken to sing the Reaper’s Song in the last act, thus, as it were, playing two parts, and contributing in a large degree to the enjoyment of the evening, but not, we must add, enlarging the interest of the play. The real dramatis personae end with this trio, the remaining characters being supplemental and decorative, rather than necessary and useful. There are, for instance, two goatherds, excellently impersonated by the Misses Morensi and Stockton, and a Hunter by Signor Susini, who, in the solitary song entrusted to him, achieved one of the best artistic successes of the evening.

     The music of 'Dinorah' is clearly in Meyerbeer's matured style, and is not altogether free from reminiscences of his previous works. Being, however, of a romantic character throughout, and with certain exigencies of a serio-comic vein, (the craziness of the heroine, and the cowardice of Corentino, for instance,) there is a general atmosphere of inconsequential lightness about the work, which is apt to disappoint and surprise those who are only acquainted with his larger dramatic productions. But the tone picture is never trivial, and what is more remarkable, never overwrought or labored, notwithstanding that the 'score' is full of difficulties. The music, in fact,  will repay the closest anlysis, and reward the heartiest enthusiasm. It would be equally foolish to say that it is learned or that it is florid, although in some respects it is both. Displaying the happy command of expression of a scholar, with the restraint of a philosopher who thinks before he speaks, Meyerbeer has contrived in this work to explain a fantastic story with quaintness and yet with delicacy. We associate with writers of the romantic school a somewhat different range of characteristics--their nature being poetic and spontaneous rather than rhetorical. It is none the less true that Meyerbeer has accomplished his purpose with the greatest possible success. The music is thoroughly delightful, and improves steadily on acquaintance; pleasing the ear--even tickling that organ by meretricious means in the bell terzetto--and satisfying a moderate craving for superiority. It may lack the idea and spark of youth, and is certainly deficient to those [illeg.] of melody which every one can pick up in a single hearing, and retail to the neighborhood on his way home, but it is, [illeg.] sparkling and brilliant having the deep [illeg.] rather than the superficial blazing of the diamond. Beyond reflecting the broad phases of the music, we have no intention of attacking the score thematically. That task belongs to the musical journals--and is never performed by them--criticism in such quarters having degenrated into a feeble kind of biography, telling you where and how a composer wrote a certain thing--not dissecting the production itself. Broadly, then, we may add to what we have previously said, that there are no startling innovations in this opera. A slight divergence from the common plan may be noticed in the circumstance of the principal part being for the baritone, instead of the tenor voice--but this is not without precedent. They who pretend that the finales to the first and second acts are novelties in form simply because they dispense with the clamors of a chorus and the full-blooded vehemencies of an orchestra, must be singularly forgetful of the masters' earlier works, and even of the common practice of the Italian stage. Meyerbeer is far too shrewd to attempt what others have not effected with success. Whenever there is an opportunity for the fullest combinations, he avails himself of it; whenever the interest centres [sic] on one or two persons, he is content. In the 'Huguenots'--his best work--he has a finale where orchestra, chorus principals, brass band, men-on-horseback and torchlights are essential; in another finale of the same opera, the curtain descends on the scream of a solitary heroine. The bell terzetto of the first act of 'Dinorah,' and that of the second--ridiculously called the trio of the torrent, both of which serve as finales to the sections mentioned--are by no means remarkable. They are popular in their character, but they lack inspiration, being clearly hammered out of a very small piece of intellectual metal. The orchestral treatment saves them from becoming commonplace, and in this respect Meyerbeer is, as of old, superb, unflinching and instructive. With the rarest knowledge, he is frequently content with the simplest means. Elsewhere we notice the composer's freedom from the restraint of keys. He pervades the vicinity of his melody and drops in over the way, and round the corner, and across the square, before he returns to his subject. To the majority of ears, this indecision is puzzling, but it lends freshness to schemes that might otherwise lose their bloom. Another of Meyerbeer's old tricks--constant change of rhythm--is very noticeable in 'Dinorah.' So often and unnecessarily does he seem sometimes to change the time that one might almost suppose it was for the purpose of getting rid of an uneven number of notes rather than obtaining new accents. But these peculiarities discovered there remains a fine work--one which we think is without equal on the operatic stage. The instrumentation is thoroughly delicious, and so suggestive that it is a month's study in itself. Popularity has attended every repetition of 'Dinorah,' and although the applause on Monday evening was singularly scant, we have no fear about the future of the work, especially as it is creditably put upon the stage.  The orchestra was under the direction of Mr. Muzio, who has had a heavy task to perform in bringing out this work during the current business of the season.”

"OPERA ITALIEN -- A number of things make us postpone our detailed appreciation of the Pardon of Ploermel--and of the brilliant debut made of Mlle. Cordier--until the end of the week. The opera and the artist can afford to wait, because they should occupy the attention of the public for a long time to come."

From a letter dated 11/19/62.

From a letter dated 11/25/62.  “This opera plainly shows that Meyerbeer, the intelligent master of effect, has lost his youthful fire, which never was the genius that outlasts youth.  The music of ‘Le Pardon de Ploermel,’ or ‘Dinorah,’ as the Italian version has it, is made, cold, sought-for, far-fetched. Dance melodies, and themes that bear about as much resemblance to Brittany songs, as bears the painted, powdered, frizzled, spangled paisanne of the masquerade, to a fresh country maiden, chasing sheep or goats over the windy downs of Brittany, alternate through the work. How differently have Weber, Boieldieu, Gade, even Rossini, treated national music! Only in the third act, in the air Hoel sings before Dinorah’s recovery, and in the duo that follows it, could we detect the accents of nature and the heard. Beside such music as this (the heaviest of light operas) Bellini’s melodies are golden, and Rossini’s spectacular, operas, classic. The plot is continually broken up by unnecessary episodes, intended to display the composer’s power of torturing melody, and to give color and character to the work.  . . . To our thinking, this is very tiresome and undramatic.

          Angiolina Cordier, is a pleasing singer and actress of the French school, and made an interesting Dinorah; indeed her singing was the redeeming feature of last evening.  Morensi, (Miss Duckworth) sang the first goat-herds’ music with a sound, sonorous contralto, that needs further training, however.  Brignoli was awkward as Corentin, and sang ill; Susini had but one air, (the hunter’s); Amodio will be a good singer, when he has learned to dispense with that senseless tremolo.  The music was much cut; the mise en scène fourth-rate; the orchestra insufficient, the chorus miserable. The singing of the chorus in the ‘Ave Maria’ behind the curtain, which interlards the overture, was fearfully false; the hand-bill ridiculously styles this chorus ‘invisible’; we wished it were inaudible also. . .

          The house was crowded by an elegantly dressed, stiff and uncomfortable looking audience, afraid to venture on an expression of opinion for or against the opera, applauding (when it did applaud) in the wrong place, as is usually the case with Academy audiences.”

“Of operas, we have heard some entirely new to New York. Such were Meyerbeer’s ‘Dinorah,’ Nicolai’s ‘Merry Wives of Windsor,’ Petrella’s ‘Ione,’ Verdi’s ‘Aroldo,’ and Gluck’s ‘Orpheus.’”