Speranza
Werther
Metropolitan Opera House:
04/19/1894.
(Review)
Metropolitan Opera House
April 19,
1894
WERTHER
Massenet
Libretto di É. Blau/Milliet/G.
Hartmann
Werther........(tenore).........Jean de
Reszke
Charlotte.......(mezzo).......Emma Eames
Albert............(baritone) ......Jean
Martapoura
Sophie...........(soprano).......Sigrid
Arnoldson
Bailiff.................Agostino
Carbone
Schmidt.................Pedro
Guetary
Johann..................Antonio De
Vaschetti
Conductor...............Luigi Mancinelli
Review in
the New York Herald:
Jean de Reszke as Werther
Massenet's Opera
Sung for the First Time in This City at the Metropolitan
And so, after
months of weary waiting, we have finally heard Giulio Massenet's 'Werther' too.
A most CHARMING
work, I should say, which will undoubtedly grow upon the listener with
repeated hearing, but NOT A GREAT one.
The tumultuous applause which rang
through the Metropolitan Opera House was evoked NOT ALONE by the work in hand,
but to a large extent by the impassioned tones and acting of Jean de Reszke.
But
the sweet and gentle embodiment of Eames (who realized the Goethe ideal in
look and manner as quite fully as did M. de Reszke) and by the sincerity which
marked the efforts of everyone concerned.
Yet it will be interesting to
watch the reception of the same work in times to come, say even at the beginning
of the next season, when there will be no thoughts of the sweet sorrow of
parting, and when all artisitc linen will again have become so immaculate as to
need no washing even in private.
I, for my part, have but little faith in
the ultimate popularity of 'Werther.'
At time it is just a bit too fine
for the masses.
And again it is a trifle tiresome for all classes of opera
goers.
Were it not for a certain rustic humour, which reflects admirably
the humour we find in many a page fo the score of the 'Meister Singer,' and for an
exquisite romance here and there, the first half of this opera would drag along
wearily enough.
Of course, the fault lies in the subject itself, for
stirring as Goethe's 'I DOLORI DEL GIOVANE Werther' remains to the present day it is not the sort of
story which lends itself gracefully or effectively to an operatic text.
Indeed
no one with an instinct for what is interesting upon the stage would for a
moment dream of turning an epistolary diary into a libretto.
Giulio Massenet,
once he had set to work, must have thought as much himself, must have felt
hampered by the lack of action, by the one-sidedness of the characters of his
hero and heroine.
From the moment that Werther and CARLOTTA BUFF meet in the first
act until the curtain falls on the last, they love and love and love, unhappily,
to be sure, but constantly for all that.
This is not the most grateful of tasks
for a dramatic composer, and the result is that one feels as if a "melodramma" had
been built around a book of exquisite romance and love duets.
In the
second half of the work, however, the composer is more in his element.
The pulse
of the music becomes at times positively feverish, and the listener is not
infrequently worked up to a rare pitch of excitement.
Indeed the final act would
be altogether entrancing were it not for an ending that is lamentably weak.
Werther bleeding to death, Charlotte leaning over him in an ecstasy of woe, and
children in the street singing a Christmas carol, which grates upon the ear,
whereupon the tragedy comes not to an end so much as to a stop.
Jean de
Reszke as Werther would have satisfied not Massenet alone, but Goethe himself, I
do believe so thoroughly did he identify himself with the sorrows of the hero
who caused all Europe to weep.
His first romance, 'O, Nature,' was sung with a
beauty of sentiment, a polish of style and a sincerity of manner that were
enchanting, and the violent outburst which marks his delivery of the passage
beginning 'Un autre est son epoux' positively sends a thrill through the
listeners.
In Eames, the tenor found a charming partner, one who, like himself,
believes rather in the strong, bold outlines than in the petty details of a
role.
She looked the part of CARLOTTA to the life, and in the duet of the third
act was as melodious and as convincing as it is possible to be.
A word of
praise, too, for Arnoldson, who enacted the insignificant part of SOFIA
with such sprightliness as to raise it to a prominence it would not otherwise
have had.
As for the orchestra it gives Signor Mancinelli such
trouble that he had to emphasize his baton not only with his looks, but with his
voice as well.
Now let us examine BEHIND THE SCENES
For a premiere the stage at the
Metropolitan Opera House last evening looked rather deserted.
Usually the
wings are crowded with the disengaged members of the company.
You will generally
see individuals belonging to the corps de ballet practicing some exercise, some
step, some figure.
Then in another group the chorus will gather.
Some will be
standing other lolling about, but in any and in every case they will be talking
in a sort of muffled whisper.
Generally the subject will be the principal
artists, for there is no keener observer or more attentive listener than an
experienced theatrical chorister.
He has generally had a varied career in the
capitals of the world and a mass of drolly assorted souvenirs to draw
upon.
But last evening most of the artists who were not singing in
Werther were giving Carmen in Albany.
Plançon, who is an assiduous attendant at
the opera, was laid up with a cold.
The ballet, the chorus and a host of
figurants were also in Albany.
So that the stage presented an odd air of
quietude.
It was only in the last act that there was really any
commotion.
Up to this moment the stage manager, William Parry, had been
standing careless, calm, even slightly bored in appearance, as though a long
acquaintance with the chefs d'oeuvre of operatic music had wearied
him.
The curtain goes up, disclosing the interior of CARLOTTA's
home.
Now Parry begins to look round to see that his men are at their
posts.
He calls to the electrician to see that he is on the alert.
You hear the
voices of Alberto and Carltta -- Alberto, somber and threatening; Carlotta
imploring and terrified.
There is a shriek.
You can distinguish
Charlotte's agonized apostrophe, 'Dieu! tu ne voudras que j'arrive tron tard'.
The door at the back of the scene opens.
Charlotte rushes out into the winter's
night.
And -- like a flash the entire scene is plunged in total
darkness.
There is a rush of busy workers for a couple of instants.
Each
man seems to know his piece by touch, for it is impossible to see your hand
before you.
Light dispels the gloom and you see a fascinating wintry
landscape.
Snow is everywhere.
It covers the houses, in whose windows you see
the warm reflection of the cheery Yuletide fires.
It lies thickly upon the
trees.
It forms a soft carpet upon the ground.
And all the while it falls gently
from on high, giving a marvelous air of truth to the picture.
Charlotte
crosses the stage.
Again total darkness reigns for a second.
Again the stage
manager gives a few rapid orders.
Again there is a little company of men working
at fever heat.
And the darkness, clearing away, shows Werther lying, wounded to
death, in his own room.
It looks like magic, so quickly has the change
been made.
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