Stars of the Opera

Early in the season of 1898-99, a performance of Traviata at the Metropolitan Opera House might be described as an occasion of superlatives—including the largest auditorium, the biggest audience, and the finest singers.

Grand opera is a culmination and combination of the most significant efforts of the greatest minds. There is, in the first place, the plot of the libretto, which in the case of Traviata was the masterpiece of Dumas, France’s greatest dramatist—a man who laboured all his life as the achievement required only work, and who yet possessed such mental power as no amount of work could achieve.

After Dumas comes the librettist who transposed the story into suitable Italian verse to be set to music. And then we have the work, the innermost thoughts, of Giuseppe Verdi, Italy’s greatest living composer. There was a day when each of these sparkling melodies that now delight the whole world was born in the soul of Verdi and heard by him alone. But he patiently put on paper every note that his years of study and gifted soul impelled.

The work of the composer, the dramatist, and the librettist belongs to the past. However, that audience of five thousand people did not bestow much thought on them. Nor did they think very often of the orchestra, composed of fifty thorough musicians, who worked more during the performance than any other participants.

It may be mentioned here that in all grand operas, the orchestra plays continually; it is the wall upon which the picture is hung. The singing may have paused, but the conductor’s baton never rests.

People seldom appreciate the vast knowledge of music and the remarkable ability to read sight these orchestra players possess. Not one of them has worked at his art since childhood; most play several different instruments, and they all hold as a creed that a false note is a sin and a variation in rhythm is a fall from grace. The director is their temporary deity who commands the orchestra beneath and the stage above—a little universe of music. He holds it all together and dictates the tempo, the expression, and the phrasing. For the time being, his commands are immutable as the laws of nature, for any severe disobedience would cause the whole structure to fall to pieces.

After the introduction, the five thousand listeners gave some applause to the director and a little more to the chorus—those earnest workers who serve grand opera as the stokers do a ship. Then, the tenor received a lot of applause—his reward for training his voice, studying music, memorizing operas, overcoming nervousness, and singing in public for twenty years.

But the tremendous applause, bravos, cheering, and excitement were reserved for the star, the soprano—Marcella Sembrich! It is always impressive to witness such a success, and knowing that one woman can stir people’s hearts is inspiring.