Word: lucia
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...Handel, Largo; Rubinstein, Kammenoi Ostrow; Beethoven, overture to Egmont; Tchaikovsky, Slavic, March; Moszkowski, Serenade; Strauss, Egyptian March; Offenbach, Barcarolle from Tales of Hoffman; Dvorak, Humoresque, Massenet, Aragonaise from Le Cid; Mascagni, intermezzo from Cavaleria; Paderewski, Minuet, Volga Boat Song; Mendelssohn, Spring Song; Schumann Traeumere; Tchaikovsky, Humoresque; Donizetti, sextet from Lucia; Saint-Saens, "The Swan; Goldman...
...shall define a triumph? The first night of Italian opera in London, Mme. Toti dal Monte swelled her ample bosom to emit the titular notes of Lucia di Lammermoor. Diffident boxes whacked their hands red. "A triumph," said the press next morning, meaning that Toti dal Monte had covered the work with her usual capability...
...that time, she had already enjoyed triumphs in Italy, in Mexico, in Buenos Aires, where the enraptured citizens had fired off cannon and drawn her carriage, snowed under with flowers, through the streets. But Covent Garden was the test stronghold of musical recognition and, though she had sung Lucia over 200 times, her large, dimpled knees, she freely admitted, trembled on that night. After the first act, they trembled no longer; for the Inglesi made her appear 20 times before the curtain, clapping her long, and even cheering her in their funny, diffident way. Later that evening, the famed Patti...
...Walkure, Siegfried, Gotterdammerung. Between the date of interruption and the date of this revival, a number of Wagner operas have been presented at the Metropolitan. Die Walkure was revived with eclat in 1921, Siegfried in 1924. Yet these performances have been isolated in the flood of Italian melody: Lucia, Aida, Tosca, Rigoletto. Now among such pretty pieces comes Wagner like a Titan, mightily marching...
Last week, at the Metropolitan Opera House, Manhattan, Mme. Toti dal Monte, Venetian soprano, made her debut. Because of the liberal praise accorded her when, with the Chicago Opera Company, she made her first U. S. appearance a month ago, critics regarded her interestedly. As Lucia di Lammermoor, ever-distressed lady who goes mad in her attempt to sound like a flute, Mme. Dal Monte cadenzaed, bravuraed, languished, trilled, palpitated. Her hands were expressive, her figure squat, her voice limpid. Loud, long was the applause. "Cordial," the critics termed it, reserving their other adjective, "unprecedented," for dead debuts, for debuts...