The Sun.
London, England, 1864-04-08 00:00:00

THE ROYAL ITALIAN OPERA.

THE GREAT TENOR,
Herr Wachtel, in "I 1 Trovatore."
Yesterday will be remembered, we feel cer-
tain, as a date marking a distinct epoch in
the history of this great lyrical establishment.
For, it is nothing whatever of an exaggera-
tion to say that last evening's performance
at the Royal Italian of Signor Verdi's four-act
opera of "I 1 Trovatore" was the occasion of a
triumph as signal, as complete, as enthusiastic
as we can call to recollection. Herr Wachtel, wCo
was the achiever of that triumph, had already, it is
true, made his appearance two years ago before a
London audience upon that same stage of Covent-
garden Theatre—his debut then being in fact one
among the lesser, one among the now almost for-
gotten, incidents of the season of 1862, the season
of the Great Industrial Exhibition. Having re-
ferred to which earlier appearance of the young
German Tenor, as a debut nlready almost lost to the
remembrance of London opera.goers, it is certainly
needless to add that Herr Wachtel in 1862 made
little or no impression. Daring the brief in-
terval (of two years), however, which has
since then elapsed, his advance as an artist,
the cultivation of his many great natural
gifts and endowments, above all the developmtnt
of the capabilities of his magnificent voice, aro
proved now to absolute demonstration, by the result,
to have been something truly extraordinary.
So complete has become the transformation of the
primo tenors, in this instance, that his appearance
last evening as Manrico, in "I 1 Trovatote" may be
said to have been quite accurately defined as Herr
Wachtel's debut. For what he is, as an artist, yes-
terday was, in truth, the occasion of his " first
appearance." In the recollection of his achievement
last evening, the remembrance of his apparition for
three nights only during the season of 1862 may be
said to have been utterly obliterated. Whether or
not, it arose from some faint momentary reminis-
cence of what was so speedily afterwards to be thus
ohiterated from the memory of some among the
Royal Italian audience, Manrico received no wel-
come whatever from that audience, when, in the
fifth scene of the first act, he emerged to view, fur
the first time, in the moonlit garden, shrouded in
the cloak and visor of tee Troubadour, immediately
after his mournful chanting, behind the scenes, of his
sad yet hopeful serenade, Deserto sulla terra. For
this neglect or forgetfulness of any greeting whatever
to him, if only a greeting of the merest courtesy and
encouragement, Herr Wachtel, later on in the even-
ing, was to win for himself', as the event showed, the
very amplest compensation. it came not, however,
in anything like earnest, this far more than
simply compensatory applause, until the clos•
ing scene of the third act of the opera,
the scene between Manrico and Leonora. Herr
Waehtel's rendering then, at the very commence-
ment of that henceforth memorable scene of the ten-
der love song "Ah! si, ben olio, coll'essere" was so
conspicuous for the chastened beauty and refine-
ment thrown by him into every dulcet cadence, as
to win for him an instant and cordial encore—an
encore that was nevertheless only the prelude for
what proved immediately afterwards to be the oc-
casion for him of as signal a triumph as any we
can recall to our remembrance. That triumph,
in effect, arising out of Herr Wachtel's superb
delivery (upon the direful tidings brought by Ruiz)
of the Di quells pira l'orrendo loco, the thundering
and prolonged applause at the close of which was
literally mingled with what the parliamentary
reporters would call " cheers "—these cheers, of
course, coming, for the most part, from the
more demonstrative occupants of the amphi-
theatre. Altogether the plaudits, however,
it should be said, at once, came not from
any isolated portions of the audience, but from
all parts of the helm simultaneously. It was an
enthusiastic and unpremeditated greeting of admi-
ration, extorted by the singer from the whole mass
of his hearers, extorted by him even from the more
blasé occupants of boxes, stalls, and amphitheatre,
frequenters of the opera who aro seldom if ever
capable of being roused to anything at all like
demonstrations of delight. Yet, whatever the au-
dience, no matter how phlegmatic or how unde.
monstrative, the result could hardly, by any possi
bility have been otherwise. It was not simply that
there was something contagious in the very
enthusiasm, and verve, and passion of the young
singer—it was, beyond all this, the possession by
him of a magnificent organ, with which he appears
to be capable of doing (often with admirable auda
city) just anything he pleases. In demonstra-
tion of which, surely, it is only needful to mention
his marvellous achievement in the delivery of that
full, high, clear, ringing chest C above the line—
that C in petto, not an falsetto—that C which
pealed from his lips with a metallic resonance
like the note of a silver trumpet—radiant,
one is almost tempted to say, like the flickering
of the sword he waived defiantly at the
very same instant above his head, in the midst
of that cry of mingled rage and anguish—
Madre infelice, corro a salvarti, 0 taco almeno
corro a morir ! Nor was this wonderful note
the result, as one might say, of a happy
accident, the achievement of a mere momentary
audacity. Thrice last evening that C above the
line, in the full chest voice, rang vibrant and rever-
berant upon the hearing of the enraptured audience
—the second time upon the tumultuous encore—the
third time, as by a crowning feat of daring on the part
of the young Tenor, the same wondrous note ringing
clear and distinct above the choral chaunt of the
soldiers, above Verdi's proverbially sonorous orches-
tral accompaniment, above the n Aso even of the
arms and warlike instruments notified among the
stage directions crowning the tumult of the finale
to that third act, what the libretto defines as
the fragor d'arini e da bellici stronenti. When
the curtain fell last evening upon the close of that
third act, Herr Wachtel was twice summoned be-
fore it by the audience, there to receive each time, in
a crashing round of applause, the tribute of their
admiration. The success could not have been more
complete or more unmistakable. Rather, it should be
said—the triumph (for it was nothing lees than a
triumph) of the new Tenor could not have been
more signally demonatrated. The feeling on the
part of the audience appeared to be one of absolute
exultation. The youthful singer, with his radiant
look and bearing,
with his noble voice, with his ap-
parent capability, as already intimated, of doing
just anything he pleases with that voice, com-
manded the sympathies of an : audience natu-
rally gladdened by such an apparition at the very
commencement of the operatic season. Manrico's
plaintive death-song, through the dungeon. bars,
in the fourth act, Sconto col sangue mio, ob-
tained for Herr Wachtel yet another encore before
the opera was brought to its conclusion. The dulcet
and lamenting sound of the refrain, Addio, Leonora
addio ! resounding with a bewitching pathos
" through" the 0 con to per sempre unita nella tomba
in scendero of his weeping beloved, and "through"
the muffled chaunt from within of the illiserere,
a
Miserere •! But the third act, or rather the close of
the third act, was the occasion of Herr Wachtel's
success, a success that he may now look back upon
"
as complete and triumphant.
The loveliest melody in II Trovatore," mean-
ing, as a matter of course, the famous. Il balen del
suo sorraso sung by the Conte di Luna, won
equally, it may be said, a 5 a matter of course, the ac-
customed encore—an honour that
.we venture to
think, however, was accorded to it last night in
tribute rather to the composer, Signor Verdi,
than to the singer, Signor Grszeini. The
noble chorus of the soldiery Squitli echeggi
la tromba guerriera was most admirably ren-
dered, as could only be looked for indeed
from any chorus so completely under the
sway of Mr. Costa's baton. The de/Menet': of the
night, Madlle. Destine, threw extraordinary effect
into her impersonation of that tawny hag of a
gipsey, Azucena : Madlle. Fricci singing, more-
over, it should be added, very brilliantly through-
out as Leonora. Besides which, let us mention
that Signor Tagliafico made, as ever, a mat
Mephistophlesdike Ferrando. The house, accord-
ing to custom, was brilliantly filled; and, for certain,
those who were there will long bear Herr Wachtel's
first night very vividly in their remembrance.