It is only appropriate to end the first cycle of this series with the doyenne of the modern soprano: Lilli Lehmann. She was a remarkable, no-nonsense woman, completely dedicated to her art, who had a career of staggering length and complexity.
Although in operatic annals she is held up as a vocal miracle, Lilli Lehmann is actually a perfect example of an extremely well-trained singer who was brutally honest about her talent, its strengths and limitations. She knew her voice and its technique inside out.
Lilli Lehmann’s career is too rich for me to provide all but the most basic outline here. She was born in 1848 in Wurzburg, Germany of musical parents. Her mother, Maria Theresa, was a well-known singer and a friend of Richard Wagner. Her father, Karl August, was a respected tenor. Lilli lived in Prague most of her youth and was originally—and obviously thoroughly—trained by her mother. She made her operatic debut in 1865 as the First Boy in The Magic Flute. During the early years of her career she concentrated on lyric and coloratura parts, singing such roles as the Queen in Les Huguenots, Philine in Mignon, Dinorah, Rosina in Il Barbiere, the Countess, Reiza in Oberon, Gilda and Donna Elvira. She quickly amassed a tremendous number of roles for her repertoire. (By the time of her retirement she had sung 170 roles in 119 operas, spanning both the coloratura and the dramatic soprano repertoire, including all soprano roles in The Magic Flute.) After guesting in various houses, in 1870 she settled in Berlin, contracted as principal coloratura soprano. She remained in Berlin for 15 years. At the time of her Berlin contract, the 22-year-old was five years into her career and had already sung 80 roles.
During the 1870s Lehmann gradually (and carefully) extended her repertoire to include more dramatic works, and by 1878 had sung both Elsa in Lohengrin and Elizabeth in Tannhauser, and was quickly becoming a formidable champion of Wagner’s music. Much of this was triggered by her being invited by Wagner to participate in the first Bayreuth Festival in 1876, where she sang in the inaugural performance of the Ring Cycle as Woglinde, Ortlinde and the Forest Bird.
Also during this time she guested in London, Vienna and Paris. In 1886 she made her Metropolitan Opera debut as Sulamith in Goldmark’s lush opera Konigin von Saba. She remained there until 1891, establishing herself as a dramatic soprano of the first order—her Isolde (which she had first sung in London in 1884), Brunhilde, Donna Anna and Norma being especially revered. Interestingly, Lehmann came to Norma only after having established herself as a leading exponent of Wagner’s heroines.
By 1896 Lehmann had returned to Bayreuth, this time as the premier Wagnerian soprano of her day. That does not mean to suggest that she did not run into some serious complications when up against Wagner’s widow, Cosmia, also a formidable personality. The two women disliked each other intensely.
Lehmann showed her continued devotion to the works of Mozart by helping organize the now famous Salzburg Festival in which she took part and helped direct from 1901 through 1910. In addition to having one of the longest professional careers in the history of singing, she was a famous teacher (she began her studio in 1901) whose advice was sought by not only aspiring young singers but also seasoned professionals. She also wrote a still-respected treatise on singing (How to Sing, 1902) as well as biographical works. She died in 1929 in Berlin after a 45-year operatic career and a concert career of 60 years. A strong and determined singer, it seems she had little sense of humor, although she was fond of the rapier-like retort. Once Lillian Nordica (at the time one of America’s reigning dramatic sopranos) had a friend ask Madame Lehmann if she would be at home one day so that Nordica could pay her a visit—prima donna to prima donna. Lehmann succinctly replied that she was not taking on any more students that season.
Lehmann was a dominant, impenetrable musical figure during her era, and this forceful personality can be heard on most of her recordings. Coyness and subtlety were not an intrinsic part of her vocal battery, but imperious dramaticism was. She was also an amazingly astute singer in that, despite her fame with Wagnerian roles, she was careful to retain her ability to sing not only Mozart but also remnants of her original, florid repertoire as well. This had much to do with the longevity of her career and the success of her recordings made so late in her life.
Lehmann did not begin to record until 1906, when she was 58 and close to retirement (by that time she had been singing professionally for forty one years). She only recorded that year and the next, in Berlin, leaving a total of 37 selections taken from her operatic, song and concert repertoire. Considering the inherent facets of her artistic and emotional makeup, it is not surprising that when she decided to record, Lehmann pulled out some of the most difficult arias in operatic literature, unabashedly displaying the solidity of her technique. Rather than resting on her laurels, she bravely recorded selections from Egmont, Fidelio, Entfuhrung, Traviata, Norma, Tristan, Walküre, Don Giovanni, Robert le Diable, Les Huguenot and Nozze di Figaro. Songs included the complex “Erlkonig” by Schubert, Grieg’s “Im Krane,” Schumann’s “Intermezzo” and “Mondnacht” (Liederkreis) and Mozart’s “Das Vielchen.” She also recorded a few parlor songs of the time as well.
And her voice? It was obviously always a heady instrument with an easy top register that during her prime must have been impressive indeed. Interest-ingly, although her top was occasionally compressed in the instrumental manner so popular with German instructors at the time, Lehmann’s voice almost always retained much of her top register’s harmonics. Although her voice was not of the size and timbre which we, today, tend to associate with a dramatic soprano, Lehmann’s manner and delivery were definitely based on dramatic accentuation. Her chest register was also strong, but by the time of her recordings was often not cleanly equalized with the rest of the instrument, sometimes causing “chasms” in her phrasing. Her control of her instrument from top to bottom during rapid coloratura or when singing a smooth line was remarkable. Occasionally within this line the notes are separated in the German style of the time, rather than linked in true legato style, but generally this is not annoying on her recordings. (One of the few criticisms of her singing, an odd lack of crisp enunciation, would be mentioned time and again throughout her career, and this can—to an extent—be heard on her recordings.)
Of the 37 selections, Lilli Lehmann recorded four that were originally not published. Symposium (the CD base of the important Harold Wayne Series—now up to 40 volumes) has released all her surviving recordings, including the unpublished ones (Symposium 1207-08). For those that do not want to invest in a 2-CD collection, Preiser has released a single disc of 24 selections (Preiser 98185). My only regret is that they did not manage to include the remarkable Fidelio aria, and that they chose the shorter of Lehmann’s two versions of “Or sai chi l’onore” (Don Giovanni). Even so, Preiser’s is a fitting collection of some of Lehmann’s greatest recordings. No matter which volume you decide to buy, Lehmann’s art should
be sampled in small doses. She is a perfect singer with which to try that listening exercise I wrote about in Our Legacy on Record (April 2000, Classical Singer).
Included on both volumes (and rightly so) are Constanze’s two arias from Mozart’s Entfuhrung aus dem Serail. At times both arias show signs of her advanced age, but in “Ach ich liebte” this is contrasted by some lovely, perfectly supported elevated pianissimo effects and accurate high coloratura, both of which are better executed than most of the recordings made by current artists.
“Martern aller arten” remains the classic early rendition, even if it employs the typical “cut” version used at the time in order to fit the aria on a 78 rpm side. Every obstacle of the aria is met and then some. Her voice glitters through runs up to high D without a trace of aspiration or fatigue and the dramatic outpourings are brilliantly put forth. There may be (as in many of her discs) a certain rough-edged attack and occasional problems in the uniting of registers but the reckless abandon with which she attacks this virtuoso aria is an experience that haunts one long after the music has ended. Lehmann elects to end the aria with a traditional interpolation of the time, a final, rock-solid high C. This remains one of the most glorious high notes she ever recorded, and taken in conjunction with the rest of her interpretation makes quite a case for the suitability of such an interpolation. If you listen closely you can hear the brilliant and healthy ring of her high C in the acoustics of the recording studio.
The long (1906) “Or sai chi l’onore,” includes the recitative and is sung with piano accompaniment. It is a scena of unbelievable intensity and the work of a force of nature. Unforgettable for its sweeping strength and controlled rage, it too remains the classic early rendition despite some definite rough spots. Lehmann’s middle register betrays its wear and the scena is a serious workout for the soprano, but there is a desperation to the performance that is as dramatically appropriate as it is unusual to hear. A relic of her early days, the Robert le Diable aria belies the fact that this singer was nearly 60—so solid is her breath support, so plangent is the top register. This is one of her best records, complete with an aura of the mysterious and an unusual cadenza to high C#.
Space does not allow me to go into more detail, but suffice it to say that there is some fascinating singing on the Lehmann discs. If you are intrigued by what you hear on the website, I suggest you get the Symposium 2-disc issue which includes the rare, unpublished “Liebestodt” from Tristan and 3 other unpublished discs (including two selections from Norma). Although one can hear the imperfections that made Lehmann decide not to release the Tristan selection, it is the only example extant of her singing music from one of her most famous roles. It is also an important document since she abides by Wagner’s original wishes and sings the music with an Italian-style cantilena. Then there is her “Absheulicher,” which I, for one, would never want to be without.
You may or may not fall in love with her voice or its use, but listen closely to Lilli Lehmann’s recordings and I guarantee you will come away with respect for her art.
