Music and the Drama.
THE ASTOR PLACE OPERA
WE have watched with interest the attempts which have been made for several years to establish permanently the Italian opera in New York. Although we disapprove of some of the means which have been used to accomplish this object, yet, upon the whole, those who have been efficient in the matter, both amateurs and artists, are entitled to the hearty commendation of our musical world. To the enterprising Maretzek belongs the palm, for his energy, liberality, and discrimination, in bringing forward, in succession, so many great works, and so many artists of superior excellence. No man could have accomplished what has been accomplished by Maretzek, without a combination of very rare endowments. Let the public then see to it that one who has done so much for the cultivation and gratification of a taste for the most refining and delightful of the arts, does not remain unappreciated and unrewarded. Of the last star which has been brought forward by M. Maretzek, the musical critic of The International (who has been many years familiar with the performances of the most celebrated artists in London, Paris, St. Petersburgh and Vienna, and who, it is pertinent to mention, never saw M. Maretzek or Mlle. Parodi except in the orchestra or upon the stage) gives these opinions.
As an artist, Parodi ranks among the very best of Europe. Notwithstanding so few years have elapsed since her first appearance upon the stage, she has attained a reputation second only to that of Grisi and Persiani. We have often had the pleasure of listening to both of these last-named celebrities, in their principal rôles, and have dwelt with rapture upon their soul-stirring representations. We have also listened to the Norma and the Lucrezia Borgia of Parodi, and have been equally delighted and astonished. Her excellences may be briefly summed up as follows: With an organ of very great compass and of perfect register, she combines immense power and endurance, and a variety and perfection of intonation unsurpassed by any living artist. When she portrays the softer emotions—affection, love, or benevolence—nothing can be more sweet, pure, and melodious, than her tones; when rage, despair, hate, or jealousy, seize upon her, still is she true to nature, and her notes thrill us to the very soul, by their perfect truthfulness, power, and intensity of expression. If gayety is the theme, no bird carols more blithely than the Italian warbler. What singer can sustain a high or a low tone, or execute a prolonged and varied shake, with more power and accuracy than Parodi? What prima donna can run through the chromatic scale, or dally with difficult cadenzas, full of unique intervals, with more ease and precision than our charming Italian? Who can execute a musical tour de force with more effect than she has so recently done in Norma and Lucrezia?
Persiani has acquired her great reputation by husbanding her powers for the purpose of making frequent points, and on this account she is not uniform, but by turn electrifies and tires her audience. She passes through the minor passages, undistinguished from those around her, but in the concerted pieces, and wherever she can introduce a cadenza or a tour de force, she carries all before her. Parodi is good everywhere—in the dull recitative, and in the secondary and unimportant passages. Her magnificent acting, combined with her superb vocalization, enchain through the entire opera.
Grisi, like Parodi, is always uniform and accurate in her representations, and upon the whole should be regarded as the queen of song; but with these exceptions we know of no person who deserves a higher rank as a true artist than Parodi. As yet she is not sufficiently understood. She electrifies her hearers, and secures their entire sympathies, but they have still to learn that silvery and melodious tones, and cool mechanical execution, do not alone constitute a genuine artist or a faultless prima donna. When the public understand how perfectly Parodi identifies herself with the emotions and passions she has to portray,—when they appreciate the immense variety of intonations with which she illustrates her characters, and the earnestness and intensity with which she throws her whole nature into all she does—then she will be hailed as the greatest artist ever on this continent, and one of the greatest in the world.
Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's new tragedy called "The Roman Tribute," has been produced in Philadelphia for several nights in succession, with very decided success. The leading character in this play, a noble old Roman, is quite an original creation. He is represented as a mixture of antique patriotism, heroic valor, sublime fidelity, and stern resolution, tinged with a beautiful coloring of romance which softens and relieves his more commanding virtues. Several feminine characters of singular loveliness are introduced. The play abounds in scenes of deep passion and thrilling pathos, while its chaste elegance of language equally adapts it for the closet or the stage. It was brought out with great splendor of costume, scenery, proscenium, and the other usual accessories of stage effect, and presented one of the most gorgeous spectacles of the season. We are gratified to learn that the dramatic talent of this richly-gifted lady, concerning which we have before expressed ourselves in terms of high encomium, has received such a brilliant illustration from the test of stage experiment. Mrs. Oakes Smith's admirable play of "Jacob Leisler" will probably be acted in New York during the season.
LEIGH HUNT UPON G.P.R. JAMES.
I HAIL every fresh publication of James, though I half know what he is going to do with his lady, and his gentleman, and his landscape, and his mystery, and his orthodoxy, and his criminal trial. But I am charmed with the new amusement which he brings out of old materials. I look on him as I look on a musician famous for "variations." I am grateful for his vein of cheerfulness, for his singularly varied and vivid landscapes, for his power of painting women at once lady-like and loving (a rare talent,) for making lovers to match, at once beautiful and well-bred, and for the solace which all this has afforded me, sometimes over and over again, in illness and in convalescence, when I required interest without violence, and entertainment at once animated and mild.
HERR HECKER DESCRIBED BY MADAME BLAZE DE BURY.
WE have heretofore given in the International some account of Madame Blaze de Bury, and have made some extracts from her piquant and otherwise remarkable book, "Germania."[2] Looking it over we find considerable information respecting Herr Hecker, who, since his unfortunate attempt to revolutionize Germany, has lived in the United States, being now, we believe, a farmer somewhere in the West. According to the adventurous Baroness, Hecker was the first man in Germany to declare for revolution. He was born, near Mannheim, in 1811; he took a doctor's degree in the University of Heidelberg, followed the profession of the law, and was elected a member of the Lower House in his 31st year. Thenceforth he was active in opposition. He possessed all the chief attributes of a popular leader, and his person was graceful and commanding, his temperament ardent, his eloquence impassioned. Although the Grand Duke Leopold was the "gentlest and most paternal of sovereigns," according to Madame de Bury, still there were many radical defects in the constitution of Baden. Against these defects Hecker waged war, and with some success, which instigated him to further efforts against the government. At length he was beaten on a motion to stop the supplies, and he retired into France disgusted with his countrymen. After some time he returned impregnated with the reddest republicanism. He found sympathy in Baden, and when the revolution broke out in Paris, he resolved to raise the standard of Republicism in Germany. In April, 1848, he set out for Constance, with four drummers and eight hundred Badeners. He and they, extravagantly dressed and armed, proceeded unopposed, singing "Hecker-songs," and comparing their progress to the march of the French over the Simplon! They arrived at Constance, and called the people to arms, but the people would not come. The slouched hats and huge sabers of the patriots did not produce the desired impression, and then it rained. In short, the movement failed. Finally, having beaten up all the most disaffected parts of the country for recruits, Hecker arrived at Kandern with twelve hundred men. Here Gagern met him with a few hundred regular troops. Hecker attempted to gain them over with the cry of "German brotherhood," but Gagern kept them steady until he fell, mortally wounded, on the bridge. Then there was a slight skirmish; both parties retreated, and act the first of the drama closed. Meanwhile the Vor Parlament had been summoned, and the National Assembly of Frankfort had met in the Paulskircke, to the number of four hundred deputies; their self-constituted task was simply to reform all Germany. Frankfort was stirring and joyous upon this occasion, as it had used to be in former days, when within its walls was elected the Head of the Holy Roman Empire. Bells were rung, cannon fired, triumphal arches raised, green boughs and rainbow-colored banners waved, flowers strewn in the streets, tapestries hung from windows and balconies, hands stretched forth in greeting, voices strained to call down blessings; all that popular enthusiasm could invent was there, and one immense cry of rejoicing saluted what was fondly termed the "Regeneration of Germany." The tumults, the misery, the bloodshed, and the disappointment that followed, until the Rump of this "magniloquent Parliament" sought shelter at Stuttgardt, are fresh in our memory.
[2] Germania: its Courts, Camps, and People. By the Baroness Blaze de Bury. London: Colburn.
Hecker, having done his utmost to "agitate" his country, and having failed "to inspire a dastard populace with the spirit of the ancient Roman people," as Madame expresses it, he fled to America. But his name was still a tower of strength to his Red brethren and the Freicorps of the Schwartzwald and the Rhine. In Western Germany a year ago last summer his return was enthusiastically expected by the revolutionary army. "When Hecker comes," said they, "we shall be invincible." He came: his followers crowded round him and implored him at once to lead them on to victory! "Victory be d—d," was the reply of the returned exile; "go home to your plows and your vines and your wives and children, and leave me to attend to mine." Hecker had only come to Europe for his family, and he returned almost immediately to America. Meanwhile the war blazed up for a little while and then expired, leaving behind it the Deutsche Verwirrung[3] as it now presents itself in Germania.[4]
[3] Literally, the German entanglement.
[4] Hecker seems to have been a sincere enthusiast; and it is always observed by his friends that he renounced ease and comfort for the cause that he espoused. We append a single verse from one of the "Hecker songs" that were in 1849 in the mouth of every Badish republican:—
"Look at Hecker wealth-renouncing,
O'er his head the red plume waves,
Th' awakening people's will announcing,
For the tyrant's blood he craves!
Mud boots thick and solid wears he,
All round Hecker's banner come,
And march at sound of Hecker's drum."