(Photo Credit: Jennifer Packard Photos, Courtesy of Opera Lafayette)

“Defying harsh laws, braving even death, I was able to change my fate,” the titular Morgiane sings proudly in Edmond Dédé’s “Morgiane, ou Le Sultan d’Ispahan.”

The same could be said of the composer. Born free in New Orleans in 1827, Dédé defied expectations of what a Black man in the 19^th century could or should be. He studied music, eventually moving to Paris, where, not deterred by being too old to enroll at the Conservatoire de Musique, he audited classes and took private lessons, per a program note by scholar Sally McKee, before finding positions at music halls.

Dédé composed “Morgiane” in 1887. There is a sense of stubbornness to it: “Morgiane” was touted as a “grand opera,” years after “grand operas” had gone out of style. It was never performed.

Versions of the words “revenge,” “vengeance,” or “avenge” appear in at least nine instances in the final act of “Morgiane,” not including harmonic repetitions. Dédé presents this as a story driven be vengeance: A woman, Amine, is kidnapped by the sultan on her wedding day, and her parents and groom vow revenge.

Opera Lafayette and OperaCreole’s presentation of “Morgiane” – at Washington’s Lincoln Theatre, New York’s Jazz at Lincoln Center, and Maryland’s Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center – carries the rush of righteous vengeance. Nearly a century and a half after its composition, the grand opera finally saw the light of day, thanks to the avenging work of over 100 people associated with OperaCréole and Opera Lafayette to restore Dédé’s 550-page handwritten manuscript. Just as Amine refuses to give in to her captor, Dédé refused to give in to the prevailing racism of his day, and Opera Lafayette saw his vision through.

Coming in the period approximately between Verdi and Puccini, “Morgiane” has the feeling of French classical music, a touch of Offenbach, Massenet-ish harmonies with an emphasis on the chorus and ensemble pieces over show-stopping solo arias, the semi-seriousness of “La sonnambula” without quite so many bel canto flutters, and a clear influence of Dédé’s time in music halls. It’s a bit of this, a bit of that, and all very much Dédé’s own. You can see it fitting into the canon if not quite a “Bohème,” maybe a “Andrea Chénier” or “Trovatore” – a piece appreciated by the operatic crowd, if not the mainstream crowd, even if the plot’s a little silly.

An engaging performance of a new-again work

The performance Wednesday night in New York was in concert form, with evocative costumes. It was led by conductor Patrick Dupre Quigley, who also serves as Opera Lafayette’s artistic director designate. The Opera Lafayette Orchestra took on Dédé’s score, which included a wonderful oboe solo in the third act prologue.

Among the singers, Mary Elizabeth Williams was a standout as Morgiane, who she portrayed as regal and powerful, but with touching vulnerability and love for her family. Her voice brought nuance to the character’s knock-out fourth-act aria that saves the day in the plot.

Joshua Conyers, as her husband, was a calming partner – anyone would be lucky to have a husband or father like his character.

Tenor Chauncey Packer brought a warm, robust tone to Ali, the loving groom-to-be. You felt Ali’s desperation, driven by love for the kidnapped Amine, in Packer’s strong performance.

Nicole Cabell, as Amine, had great color in her lower register, and you could feel her coloratura wanting to burst out in the moments Dédé’s score allowed it.

As the kidnapping sultan, Kenneth Kellogg was resplendent in velvety robes of red and gold, and his Wagnerian bass voice fit the domineering character well.

Bass-baritone Jonathan Woody, as the sultan’s soldier, brought energy and brightness.

Dédé’s score thrived in choral and ensemble moments, which he seems to have favored over solo arias, including a glorious a capella quartet in the fourth act. The OperaCréole Ensemble filled the choral arrangements well, including an engaging medley in the second act as the trio seeking Amine arrived at a market in the land ruled by the sultan. Dédé’s composition also shined in carnival-like tunes as the avenging trio pretended to be a singing troupe to gain access to the sultan’s palace. (“Do the powerless poor always outwit the powerful rich?” The sultan asks, hearing the parable they sing. “Always,” Morgiane answers, Williams enunciating the defiance deliciously with a wink to the audience.)

It’s hard to watch a recovered work like this without thinking of the what-ifs. What if Leontyne Price were known for singing a different stolen princess? What if Maria Callas also acted as another vengeful mother, one who gets to have a happy ending? What if, in between facing the legacy of Charlemagne onstage, your favorite bass got to play a different aging king? It can be enraging when you consider the music and performances that were stolen from us by racism and misogyny that kept so many compositions locked away and unheard. 

We can’t change what didn’t happen. But it is marvelous that, thanks to the work of institutions like Opera Lafayette, we can at least hear it now. Dédé is avenged with this restoration – as are the audiences and musicians who didn’t even know what had been taken from them.