Maretzek Italian Opera: La Traviata

“A very cordial greeting was given to Miss Kellogg last night on her first appearance since her return from Europe, and it must have been gratifying to the lady to perceive that the triumphs of foreign celebrities in our opera house have not shaken the allegiance of her own numerous friends and admirers. A good audience was assembled; the applause was generous; and Miss Kellogg was called out again and again between the acts. The opera chosen for her introduction was ‘La Traviata.’ If it had been her purpose merely to display her accomplishments side by side with those of the other stars of the season, she would probably have made a different choice; for the part of Violetta affords fewer opportunities than many of her other roles for the exhibition of the grace, piquancy, and sweetness alike of voice and manner which constitute her chiefest charms. But in reality it made little difference what opera she selected; in any character Miss Kellogg would have been sure of a hearty welcome.

Her Violetta is not, to our mind, a good dramatic conception. She has never made it either tragical or pathetic; and though she sings the music with facility and at times with brilliancy, giving it also the right expression, and duly observing the changes from the gayety of the supper-table to the sentiment of the deathbed, she does not get at the heart of it, and leaves consequently but a faint impression. The heroine she presents to us is not the Lady of the Camellias; it is simply Miss Kellogg. Whatever interest the performance inspires—and that it does inspire interest we freely admit—is to be ascribed to the voice, the vocal culture, and the pleasing appearance of the artist. There is no identification of the actress with the character; there is hardly an attempt at it.

It was apparent last night in the first scene that Miss Kellogg had felt the influence of the damp Autumn air, for her voice was a little husky and weak, and she did not sing with her usual ease. Still she drew forth many a hearty round of applause, and kindled an especial enthusiasm by her brilliant cadenza in the ‘Ah fors’e lui.’ Subsequently the hoarseness partly disappeared but all through the evening we missed more of less of the sweetness and purity which we have been accustomed to admire in her tones. Sig. Vizzani was much more severely affected by the change in the atmosphere, for he sang so badly as to be almost hors du combat. There being nobody else in the cast worth monitoring, the evening cannot be said to have passed off in a blaze of glory.”

“That delicate mixture of hectic passion and honey melody, Verdi’s ‘Traviata’ was heard again last night, at the Academy; and heard, as often before, by a numerous and pleased house. In truth, we shoud say ‘enthusiastic’ rather than ‘pleased,’ for all outward tokens, with some trifling exceptions due to accident, bespoke the former rather than the latter. Our American prima-donna has always been a favorite in Violetta, and this was Miss Kellogg’s first appearance since she came back from Europe. She has lately sung the part in London, we believe, and with marked success; and although New-York is out of her operatic non-age, and rightly assumes to judge for herself—particularly in the matter of Violettas, to more than one of whom she has affixed her stamp of approval, and sent them forth conquering and to conquer—it is pleasant to have confirmation from good judges that your own judgment is correct. We have to say, further, that Miss Kellogg sang and acted Violetta last night very well indeed—better, probably, than ever before in the Academy—and that she richly deserved encomiums, which were profusely bestowed on her.

When first seen last night by the public, Miss Kellogg was greeted by a very hearty outburst of applause, and this was continued by her admirers with indomitable resolution for some time. What was given by way of welcome was amply warranted afterward by desert. The lady has all her former archness and piquancy, with more refinement and mellowness of style. She retains her power and quality of tone, and has added to it something of tenderness and delicacy. Meanwhile, her execution, always admirable, has not suffered; and the indefinable aplomb and finish that are commonly the fruit of a wisely-used experience, and of that only, are certainly now possessed by Miss Kellogg in a highly satisfactory degree. Each of her well-remembered numbers was listened to on this hearing with increasing attention and pleasure; the artist was called before the curtain at the end of every act; received many graceful and appropriate compliments, and her performance of the latter portion of her rôle reached a point of lyric excellence seldom if ever surpassed on these boards.

We record with pleasure the success of a lady of whom it is not necessary to say she is an American in order to bespeak support for her, since that can be fairly claimed for Miss Kellogg on artistic grounds, pure and simple, but of whose career it is right to say that it has certainly reflected credit on American art, and that on that score her countrymen owe it to themselves to take pride in and fully to recognize Miss Kellogg’s artistic achievements.

Signor Vizzani is a prepossessing and acceptable Alfredo. He had to encounter, besides the obstacle of severe hoarseness, the preference cherished by many for his late predecessor in the part, M. Capoul, whose vigor and earnestness cannot be denied, whatever may be said of some of his mannerisms. Signor Vizzani can boast neither the semitic ardor nor the simian gambols of his Gallic rival, but he is more manly, better looking, and being a singer of the Italian rather than the French school, has in this regard a further advantage. Somewhat unimpassioned at first, he warmed up as the opera went on, in spite of his vocal difficulties, and succeeded at last in making a very good impression indeed. His voice was often sweet and flexible showing what it might be under favorable circumstances, and gave indications of power less apparent on Signor Vizzani’s debut; and the effort as a whole, serious misfortune as it is to sing through a cold, may be set down as having advanced the gentleman considerably in public esteem. In Germont, Signor Sparapani gained more unequivocally by comparison with a previous singer than did the tenor. His voice is a somewhat high and light baritone, but his phrasing is broad and vigorous, his sentiment unforced and impressive, and his bearing well adapted to this short but responsible and pathetic character. The gentleman was called before the curtain after act second and heartily applauded. Much practice has familiarized the chorus and orchestra with this well-worn work, and it would be strange if a repetition of ‘La Traviata’ at the Academy lacked the element, in these departments, of smoothness and accord. Mr. Maretzek, however, really took unusual pains last night, had his forces, after some ragged work in the opening act, very well in hand, and so compassed, in the middle and close of the evening, unusually symmetrical results. The opera gave delight, therefore, to its hearers, that was tempered with little alloy, and we doubt if a better representation of it, all things considered, has been heard here.”

“Miss Kellogg’s reappearance in opera in New York was an event that might well create a sensation in social and musical circles, and it would have been a surprise if the Academy last night had not exhibited a large and brilliant audience. The fair American prima donna came back to us with the abundant laurels of the last London season, easily won by her personal beauty, dramatic talent and musical culture, and worn with a womanly grace and modesty that must inspire every citizen of the United States with pride in his countrywoman. She was greeted kindly, cordially, enthusiastically, as she deserved, repeatedly called before the curtain and so overloaded with elaborately fashioned flower-pieces in all shapes and of all sizes that an express wagon must have been called into requisition to take them to her home. But Miss Kellogg did not appear last evening to the best advantage. Her voice was not clear, and the tenor, Signor Vizzani, was evidently suffering from cold and gave her little support, though in the first act, in the well-known aria of ‘Ah fors’e lui,’ by common consent she achieved a great triumph, and in the finale she again rose to a high lyric fervor and intensity. It is a compliment to Miss Kellogg to say that in the closing scene she was not the Traviata at all, but simply herself in a very modest and pretty disarrangement of her attire, (what the old English poet calls a ‘sweet disorder in the dress,”) and that her pure taste rejected all attempt to simulate the dying agonies of the consumptive. Certainly she was not Violetta here, she was only Miss Kellogg singing the Violetta music with accuracy, sweetness and power. Indeed we should say, that while no paint had been spared in chorus, scenery, dresses and decorations to make the representation effective, as far as dramatic consistency is concerned, it was a failure. All operas are absurdities in plot, and belong to the category of what ‘no feller can understand,’ but Traviata is perhaps ridiculous beyond all others of modern production in its want of verisimilitude. Based upon a story of society in the Second Empire, it has no background of life or landscape that can be recognized, and the chorus are dressed in costumes that belong to no age or country outside of the libretto. Last night the whole dramatic sequence of situations and musical expressions lacked relation and coherence. Miss Kellogg changed one superb dress for another and sang now and then magnificently, but there was no suggestion of a transition from joy to despair, of the shattering of the heart strings, of a great sacrifice and a great victory. Yet Miss Kellogg was thoroughly charming throughout, and, as an artist, showed a great advance upon her style and capacity when she last appeared in New York.

Signor Sparapani, we ought not to omit saying, sang Germont exceedingly well, and won frequent plaudits.”

“The number of Camelias that have appeared before the American public would make a very respectable conservatory. Matilda Heron is the beau ideal of the character on the dramatic stage; Lagrange on the operatic. We have seen a score of well-known artistes in the rôle of Violetta (Camille in drama), but Lagrange seems to be the first of the list in merit. Piccolomini made quite an impression in the part in London, but did not succeed so well here. Nilsson has been the last prima donna who elevated the rôle into an importance that gave an impress to her entire season. She brought to it the most consummate art, but no soul, and although her conception of the character was poetic and beautiful it was so unreal and unnatural that after a few representations it became distasteful. A chaste, spirituelle, passionless ‘Dame aux Camelias’ is a very charming subject in the abstract, but it is not the style of person that Dumas fils is in the habit of portraying. Miss Kellogg has played the character frequently here before, and her conception of the part has the merit of entire naturalness. A merry, thoughtless habitué of the salons in the first act and a broken-hearted woman in the succeeding scenes; such are the leading points of her impersonation. The fickle weather that has been our bane for a month or two past has played mischievous pranks with the throats of many of this season’s singers. Miss Kellogg has not escaped it. Her beautiful, fresh, clear voice—a true soprano sfogato—was veiled last evening in an atmosphere of hoarseness, which, although not very obtrusive, was sufficient to cloud some of her best efforts. She gave a spirited rendering of the finale of the first act, ‘Ah! fors’è lui,’ but in some of the passages of this, the best of Verdi’s arias, there were signs of exertion, as if indisposition interfered with the voice. Now and then in the scenes with Germont and Alfred there were passionate outbursts that evidenced a true dramatic nature, but it was unmistakably apparent that Miss Kellogg was not in her best voice, and that a slight indisposition constantly interfered with the promptings of a warm, passionate nature that under other circumstances would make the rôle of Violetta one to be remembered. Glimpses of this passion and tenderness were apparent in the last scene. Her acting was characterized by care and experience. It was the work of an artist to whom all the arts of the operatic stage are perfectly familiar. Signor Vizzani appeared as Alfred, and as his voice was completely obscured by hoarseness it is not possible to speak favorably of his impersonation beyond the points made by his prepossessing appearance and graceful action. Owing to the condition of his voice his part was cut down musically until it became almost a secondary rôle. The best of his solos, ‘De’ miei bolenti spiriti,’ was cut out, and in ‘Parigi o cara’ his voice broke. It is a matter of regret that this artist, who made such a favorable impression in the rôle of Faust, should have partially nullified that impression last evening. Signor Sparapani achieved a notable success in the rôle of Germont, and he gave a warmth and expression to the ‘Di Provenza il mar il suol’ that our stage has not heard for some time.”