Moulton Concert: 1st

“The reception of Mrs. Moulton last night at Steinway Hall was one of the brilliant events of the season. It was not a mere gathering of connoisseurs and curious people to hear a singer with whose praises society has rung for three or four years, but an assemblage of our best known ladies and gentlemen to extend a friendly welcome to an admired countrywoman at the outset of her new career. Full dress prevailed and beauty sparkled all over the house. So profuse were the offerings of baskets and bouquets that before the end of the evening the stage looked like a bed of flowers. The enthusiasm with which Mrs. Moulton was courted in the [illegible] and fashionable circles of imperial Paris is a matter of such fame that there can be no impertinence in alluding to it here, nor will it be deemed improper to remark that an equally unmistakable social success seems to have been prepared for her in America. Indeed if she were only an ordinary parlor singer, she has prestige enough to pass for a musical phenomenon in any city of the United States where people catch the gossip of the French capital, and know how highly this fair lady has been honored, not only in the court of the fallen empire, but by the great masters of art, whose praise is an artist’s best reward. But Mrs. Moulton is by no means an ordinary singer. The extravagant encomiums which have been lavished upon her in advance are certainly overstrained; yet, after making a liberal deduction for the enthusiasm of her admirers, we can still accept a great deal of what has been said as simple truth. The quality of her voice, to begin with has not been praised too highly. We have sometimes thought that we are beginning to develop in America a certain character of soprano as distinct from the voices of other nations as the rich and sensuous Italian is distinct from the graceful French, the earnest German, or the rare voice of the far north. Our women have the sweet tones of the most favored of their foreign sisters, with less warmth than one race and less force than another; but they have a beauty of song all their own, graceful, bird like, and most exquisitely tender. Mrs. Moulton’s is an American voice, enriched with certain gifts that are entirely exceptional. It reminds one a little of Miss Kellogg’s, though it is fuller than hers in the lower register—being not a soprano but a mezzo-soprano—and a trifle less clear in the upper, but it has a more remarkable vibratory character than any other organ of its class which we can now call to mind. This valuable quality gives it great power of expression, and makes it brilliant at the same time that it is rich and sweet. We can believe the story of Mrs. Moulton’s anonymous and somewhat exalted biographer, that Rossini compared it to the voice which sang to him in imagination while he was composing; for under favorable circumstances the effect of such a voice is unrivaled. It is not remarkable for strength or compass, and hence anxious friends have doubted whether the lady who fascinated the salon would be able to satisfy the severer exactions of the concert room. She has vocal power enough, however, to be heard in any hall or theater that we know of, and if her present venture do not succeed there will be some other reason for it other than want of voice.

Mrs. Moulton’s first song last night was the ‘Bel Raggio,’ from ‘Semiramide.’ It charmed everybody. Nothing could have been more thoroughly musical than her execution of the florid embellishments with which Rossini has loaded this aria. Almost all public performers go through it like an exercise. Mrs. Moulton knows how to give it as a song. She took the difficult runs with delightful ease, accuracy, and self possession, and displayed a mezza voce of rare beauty and clearness. In the opening measure of the Bach-Gounod ‘Ave Maria’ she gave evidence of deep sentiment, but she missed the climax of passion to which the prayer ought to rise. Indeed it was plain before the close of the evening that either from lack of bodily strength or from lack of art she was unable to sustain herself in the high position she had taken at the beginning. The ‘Ave Maria’ for instance was rather tame; the duet afterwards with Ronconi from the ‘Elisir d’Amore’ was weak and fitful; and the cavatina from ‘Betly’ can only be described as moderately effective. In the last two of these, and in the little songs which she gave as encores, there was a perceptible flagging which several times degenerated into blunders. Every allowance must be made, of course, for the nervousness of a first night; but we are inclined to believe that Mrs. Moulton so often loses command of her voice because her training has been nice rather than severe. She seems to be deficient also in the dramatic power which is necessary for an effective singer on the public stage.

She was assisted last night by that admirable violinist, M. Sarasate, who played a fantasia of his own on airs from ‘Martha,’ and the well known andante and finale from Mendelssohn’s concerto in E; by Miss Agnes Palmer, a contralto who sang once last Winter at one of Miss Krebs’s Recitals; by Mr. Leoni, the amateur tenor; by Ronconi who was in excellent voice and spirits, and gave, among other things, Leporello’s song (‘Madamina’ [illegible] Don Giovanni), and by an orchestra under Mr. Bosoni.” [Reprinted DJM 11/04/71, p. 123]

11)

Review: New-York Times, 17 October 1871, 6.

“That Steinway Hall was well filled last night, that the taste and fashion of New-York were richly represented, that Mrs. Moulton was received with enthusiasm and applauded to the echo, may all be regarded as foregone conclusions. There are people upon whom fortune seems bent on lavishing her choicest caresses; for whose feet she prepares velvet and primroses; for whose brows the wreath of triumph; and for whose hearts the splendid intoxication of universal homage. Such bounties may appear to overlap any possible desert. Even Othello’s ‘entire and perfect chrysolite’ could scarcely merit them. Yet cases occur, both in and out of the world of art, in which they are not begrudged; and if we look narrowly and analyze such cases we shall find that cavil has been disarmed by appeals to the sympathies and by taking captive the imagination. The fair songstress who first met her public last night as a professed artist strikes us at every turn as one of those cherished idols of fortune. She is queen ‘by the gold on her head’ as truly as the poet’s mistress whose brow was kissed by the sun. Her regal power is owned at once, and that without a murmur, if not without a sigh. In a word, there is about Mrs. Moulton a strong fascination, which is felt before she opens her lips at all, and which afterward is hardly to be resisted.

Perhaps this implies that Mrs. Moulton owes more to personal magnetism and less to the mastery of her art than we mean to convey; and perhaps suspicion regarding the stress of the former might well at first warp the judgment of practiced observers. We hasten, therefore, to say that without any such magnetism at all, Mrs. Moulton might be a fine, even if a much less artist; and that we have never seen any first appearance whatever so curiously free from the characteristic blemishes of such occasions. The lady came upon the stage with that simple grace which commonly takes so long to acquire, and, with the faintest, evanescent sign of timidity, sang at once as if she had been used to face crowds in a vast hall for years. As the programme for this interesting occasion has appeared in none of the advertisements, we place it on record [lists program].

Mrs. Moulton rendered ‘Bel Raggio’ as we have not heard it before in a concert-room. Her purity and volume of tone, the surpassing finish of her execution, the amazing facility and unexceptionable elegance of her florid passages deserved and gained unmixed admiration. In response to the earnest demands of her auditors, Mrs. Moulton then sang a French chansonette, with an archness and gaiety in admirable contrast with her opening effort.

Signor Ronconi was heartily welcomed, and trolled forth the well-worn ‘Largo al Factotum’ with much of his old voice and all of his old humor and fire. In the ‘Ave Maria,’ set to meet the best qualities of her voice, Mrs. Moulton again won the hearty suffrage of her public, and the first part ended in quite a blaze of enthusiasm. Signor Pablo Sarasate, of whom we should like to write more fully when more space is at command, proved himself an artist of high rank, and was heartily encouraged. The second part of the entertainment was, as regards plaudits and universal satisfaction, a repetition of the first; and the opinion was generally expressed at the close that Mrs. Moulton had made, in all respects, a great success.

Of all past singers, Mrs. Moulton undoubtedly most recalls the traditions of Malibran. The voice is a mezzo-soprano of exquisite melodiousness, sweet rather than strong, although of strength sufficient, very even in an extended range, and producing, when first heard, the kind of strange thrill of admiring exultation wrought by the first glorious bloom of Spring flowers, or the first view of a sublime landscape. What is the secret of this? Simply the revelation of a capacity for passion; a revelation conveyed by the most perfect of musical instruments, whose natural beauty has been brought to the rarest perfection without being hardened and worn away by the educating attritions. It is nonsense to style Mrs. Moulton an amateur. She is already an artist in the fullest sense, since she can not only stand the test of rigid technical examination, but possess the more splendid gifts that neither experience nor the most elaborate culture and labor can alone confer. Doubtless, she may improve upon herself, and we greatly mistake her if she does not feel that she should try. But Mrs. Moulton, as she is, brings far more to delight and to teach into the concert-room than many a singer of long-won repute and extensive following. There are singers in plenty who can ‘execute;’ the rarity is to find a singer whose execution has a soul behind it; and between some of these artists and Mrs. Moulton, there is much the same difference that exists between a musical-box and a sky-lark.

It is easy to comprehend, after hearing this very gifted lady, how the veteran maestro, after the same experience, should have exclaimed, ‘Voilà, la voix!’—should have said that this was the voice that sang to him in imagination while he was composing. With such a voice he would have endowed his Mathilde, and it alone, even without the singular personal beauty that accompanies it, would have warranted the passion of Arnoldo. Of Mrs. Moulton’s probable success on the operatic stage we are only able to form plausible conjectures; but of her triumph in the concert room there can be no two competent opinions. Indeed, if the sympathetic and spiritual qualities of vocalism are to the assigned their true relative place and value, Mrs. Moulton in this field might almost be called ‘The Singer’ in the sense conveyed by the Greeks, who, when they said ‘The Poet,’ meant Homer, and when they said ‘The Poetess’ meant Sappho.” [Partially reprinted DJM 11/04/71, p. 123-24]

12)

Review: New York Post, 17 October 1871, 2.

“The cloud of anxious expectancy in which Mrs. Moulton’s numerous friends have so long awaited her début among us in concert has broken up in a summer rain of flowers and silvery notes. Those who had not yet heard ‘the voice’ of Rossini’s dreams heard it last night, to their own great content. If with their pleasure was mingled any shade of limitation, it only goes to show that the fair singer, like others less fair, is mortal, and not yet prepared, by a too [illegible] perfection, for that translation which would rob countless hearers of their promised enjoyment.

Though at first a little nervous, with that restless catching of the breath which can be felt rather than heard in the tones even of an artist outwardly at ease, Mrs. Moulton’s delivery was from the outset singularly calm and assured, and nothing but the occasional faintness of a final intonation showed that the singer had not all her usual perfect command of her vocal resources. Her first air, the ‘Bel Raggio’ of Rossini, with its few bars of smooth cantabile, passing into the florid ornament and more agitated movement of the later passages, was excellently fitted to place her prominent merits at once before the audience, and to win their immediate sympathy and applause. Her voice is in the fullest sense a mezzo-soprano, not of extraordinary compass or volume, nor exceptionally strong or full in the lowest notes, but throughout its effective range beautifully pure, even and resonant, and permeated with color and that vibratory sympathetic quality which our French cousins call timbre. Her vocal methods are exquisitely delicate and true, her delivery calm and smooth to a remarkable degree, and her execution of all scales, cadenzas and ornaments in general of a finished neatness and ease which tell of the most thorough training with the best masters and models. So much the hearer learned from her first aria, as the burst of applause at the close, with the unanimous encore fully testified. The little French ballad which she gave in reply offered a hint of that mischievous, airy humor which is one of the distinguishing graces of her style.

The ‘Ave Maria’ of Gounod was less satisfactory, a result due in great measure to the violin accompaniment, which, beautiful in itself, does not, with its somewhat thin, incisive tone, quite harmonize with the richer and deeper vocal part of the music. In the famous duo from ‘Elizire’ Mrs. Moulton sung with grace and spirit, though a little overborne by the loquacious drollery and buffo interjections of Dulcamara, in the person of Signor Ronconi. Her encore was a bright little Spanish ballad of the same whimsical tone as before. Her final cavatina from Donizetti, the ‘Betty’ and ‘In questo semplice,’ was deliciously sung with languorous grace yet warmth of expression, and gave occasion for one or two little bits of ornament, pure and brilliant, yet fine as silver threads and delicate as rippling water. When recalled she sang one more charming French ballad, plaintive this time, but no unfit ending to the lightness and gayety of the preceding programme.

In short, Mrs. Moulton, as heard last night, is a graceful and most finished artist, charming with a beauty like that of a cabinet picture, a gem of Merle or Frére, not with the rugged and vivid power of Couture or Delacroix. In fiery intensity and bold and startling effect it is hardly to be expected that she should be great. The highly dramatic and bravura style of music one is inclined to surmise, would be probably as alien to her as to her taste and disposition. The music of last night neither called for nor admitted it. Her art deals not with broad and forcible strokes, sharp contrasts and heavy masses of light and shade; but with all sweet, sparkling, humorous, pathetic and airy traits of sentiment and expression. Whether, after the long habit of private salons and limited focal range, it would be either possible or desirable for her to accommodate her style to the large proportions and more vigorous methods of the Grand Opera, or even such a ‘vastly deep’ as Steinway Hall may be doubted. At all events, the discussion of this phase of her artistic power must be left for later experience. But as she is, Mrs. Moulton is quite sufficiently delightful to satisfy the most exacting, and as the Rosina or Zerlina whom Rossini longed for, we can hardly imagine—as we certainly are not likely to find—anything sweeter and more charming.

We hope at more convenient season to make special mention of the great merits of Signor Sarasate as violinist, and Miss Agnes Palmer deserves more comment than we can give to- day, for her broad and firm delivery of the air from ‘Mignon’ and the subsequent encore. The orchestra, under Signor Bosoni, played sometimes charmingly, and others with indiscreet and untamed vigor. Signor Bosoni himself was admirable for the discretion and feeling of his piano-forte accompaniments.”

13)

Review: New York Herald, 17 October 1871, 10.

“The great pressure on our columns prevents a lengthy criticism on the début of this charming and accomplished artiste. Her voice is somewhat mezzo soprano in quality, sympathetic and flexible. The florid passages in the ‘Bel Raggio’—that severe test of prime donne—were executed by her with an ease and brilliancy perfectly marvelous. Gounod’s ‘Ave Maria’ revealed a depth of expression and power in this voice. She made a genuine success. Her assistants were Miss Agnes Palmer, Leoni, Ronconi, Sarasate, Bosoni and an orchestra. The second concert takes place to-night. The audience was both large and fashionable last evening.”

14)

Review: New York Sun, 18 October 1871, 2.

“The entrance of Mrs. Charles Moulton upon the professional life of a vocalist, from a social point of view, was an event of sufficiently signal importance to bring together at Steinway Hall on Monday evening a great number of those who make up the most civilized and refined class of society in this city. It was such an audience as gathers only on rare occasions, called together by some name held in special honor and esteem.

No amateur in private life, whether in this city, or abroad, has received, it is safe to say, such homage as has Mrs. Moulton. Until now she has never brought herself within the rightful sphere of criticism, and has of course received from society nothing but praise. And that this has been deserved, no one who heard her on Monday evening can doubt. A more charming drawing-room singer the most captious listener could not desire to hear. Her voice has a wonderful warmth, richness, and beauty of tone. It is a velvet voice. It has nothing strained or forced in it, nor in all its registers an imperfect tone.

Neither is there anything left to be desired in the matter of vocalization. Ascending and descending scales were never sung with a more delicate ease and finish than by her. The true Italian method and the Italian voice as well are there. Indeed, she is a most rare singer, and within her limits well nigh perfect. It will naturally be asked, what are those limits? The question is not so easily answered, for the reason that she has as yet set herself no great tasks to test them. It is not sufficient for a vocalist to select from ten thousand songs a few that precisely suit her voice and style, to practice those for years, and upon the merits of them to be proclaimed a great artist. The tasks of the great prima donnas of the world have been quite beyond this. They have held themselves ready to sing the music of many long operas, just as the composer made it, and without regard to the question of whether it suited them or not.

We hold the mere concert singer as one of the humblest of contestants for artistic honors. Whether Mrs. Moulton could command eminence in the higher walks of her career is matter of doubt. Her voice, though so pure in quality, and carrying so well, is by no means large or powerful. Neither has it an extensive range, nor does it seem to have any great endurance. Whether it could hold its own against the requirements of grand opera is exceedingly questionable. Those who look to find largeness and breadth of style, dramatic fire, or anything that kindles the deeper emotions or quickens the pulse of an audience in Mrs. Moulton’s singing, will look in vain. Those who expect to hear a voice of most persuasive sweetness, execution as limpid as that of a bird and rare personal grace, will find that expectation more than realized.”

15)

Announcement: New York Clipper, 21 October 1871, 230.

16)

Review: New York Clipper, 28 October 1871, 238.

“Mrs. Charles Moulton made her debut upon the concert stage at Steinway Hall, on Monday evening, Oct. 16th, before a large audience. Her opening selection was ‘Bel Raggio,’ from the opera of ‘Semiramide;’ which is considered a test song for a soprano. Her voice, which is, strictly speaking, a mezzo-soprano, is remarkably pure in tone and her execution may be considered wonderful. She exhibited a slight degree of nervousness, which gradually wore off as the programme progressed. She was rapturously applauded, and was the recipient of a large number of floral offerings. We may pronounce her success unqualified. Signors Ronconi, baritone; Sarasate, violinist; Leoni, amateur tenor, and Miss Agnes Palmer, contralto, were well received. An orchestra under the direction of Signor Bosoni rendered valuable assistance.”

17)

Review: Dwight's Journal of Music, 04 November 1871, 124.

“The first thought that probably came into the minds of many of those who had heard Mrs. Moulton for the first time was in regard to the reposeful character of her art. Whoever looked for startling effects was disappointed. That is not the direction in which nature has endowed her. Her effects are quietly produced, and are the results of purity of voice and perfection of method, and not of any phenomenal range or power. Those who look to be astonished by either wealth of voice or intensity of method will look in vain. Mrs. Moulton’s art must be enjoyed by giving one’s self up in a quiet spirit to the appreciation of beautiful tones beautifully produced. Every phrase will then be found to be charmingly sung, and every passage, however intricate, perfectly vocalized. Work, however, of such fineness is not of the kind that commands most fully popular applause, and we doubt very much whether Mrs. Moulton will be found to possess the quality of talent that most surely excites the enthusiasm of the public. Her voice is neither large, nor powerful, nor vibratory, nor of great compass and extent, and her style is not dramatic. There is nothing electric in her singing, nothing vivid in the color that she gives to the music. Her own manner is calm and dispassionate, and she fails to quicken the pulse of her hearers, or to excite any other emotion than that of contentment at the perfection of the art.

We recognize in Mrs. Moulton a voice of delicious softness, rich and warm in its quality— though her singing is not warm—flexible, and under perfect training. She possesses, also, the capacity of singing with demi voix more perfectly than any other person we have ever heard, together with true intonation and personal characteristics that are in her favor. But, on the other hand, her style, though a highly cultivated one, does not seem to us in the highest sense artistic. The art is only truly noble which subdues the personality of the singer to itself, and puts the sentiment of the music first in importance, the vocalism second, the artist last.

We also find Mrs. Moulton, as an artist, lacking in earnestness of purpose. Miss Wynne, a much inferior singer, so far as natural endowments were concerned, through the possession of this quality impresses herself far more strongly upon her audience. Hearing the two singers at the same hall, on consecutive evenings, the difference in effect upon their audiences of their ballad singing could not fail to be remarked. The latter seemed to forget herself, and to desire to impress only her musical thought upon the listeners, the latter to interpose herself between the song and the audience.

Mrs. Moulton is, undoubtedly, a very perfect parlor singer, but her capacities do not seem to have expanded themselves as yet in the limits of the concert-room, and, unless her art deepens and broadens itself, we greatly doubt whether she will meet with those triumphs that her friends have so confidently predicted for her.” [Reprinted from the Nation, 10/26/71]

18)

Review: Dwight's Journal of Music, 04 November 1871, 128.

“It [the debut] caused much comment among the critics, but almost all agreed that her talents had been exaggerated in the newspapers.”