“It has been said that by the time an actress has learned the art of denoting the passion and the ecstatic emotion of Juliette she could rarely still be in possession of the juvenile charm that the part needs. But Miss Farrar has it, and has at the same time skill and resource in stage craft.” The reviews for Geraldine Farrar‘s Metropolitan Opera debut (Opening Night of the 1906-1907 season) could almost have been written by her own mother.  

“Miss Farrar comes back to her native land as one of the American singers who have made name and fame for themselves abroad. It is not always easy to establish the same success in this country, and it may be that all she does will not meet with quite so unqualified acceptance as it has abroad. But she went far upon that road in what she accomplished last evening. She made a most agreeable impression in her impersonation of Juliette; for she is full of excellent instincts making for the best things as a lyric actress. She has a charming personality, a graceful and winning one, and her stage presence is alluring and with much of the girlishness of Juliette. . . . She is a singer of remarkable gifts. Her voice is a full and rich soprano, lyric in its nature and flexibility, yet rather darkly colored and with not a little of the dramatic quality and with a power of dramatic nuance that she uses in the main skillfully. Her singing is generally free and spontaneous in delivery, well phrased and well enunciated, yet she is not a wholly finished vocalist, and there were matters in her singing that could net meet with entire approbation, as in the duet in the fourth act, where she sang with a certain constraint.” (Richard Aldrich, New York Times)

Well, almost.

“She appeared as a beautiful version; youthful, charming in face, figure, movement and attitude. She sang with a voice of exquisite quality in the middle register, and one that was vibrant with feeling almost always. She acted like one whose instincts for the stage were full and eager, but also like one who, not needing to learn what to do, had neglected to learn that it is possible to do too much. Had she been one-half less consciously demonstrative, whenever she stepped out of the dramatic picture, one-half less sweeping in her movements and gestures when she was in the picture, she would have been twice as admirable to her compatriots who were rejoicing in her success, and twice as convincing to those who were sitting in judgment upon an artist for whom the trumps of acclaim have been so loudly sounded that their din will make calm listening difficult for some time to come. . . . The few crudities in her vocalization are pushed into notice by the very excellence of her merits. Red and warm blood flows in her voice and pulses in harmony with the emotions of the play. She is eloquently truthful in declamation, and correct taste dictates her choice of nuance and vocal color. It is only when she forces her upper tones that sensuous charm leaves her voice in a measure and one deplores the departure all the more because the voice is of a carrying power that makes strenuousness unnecessary.” (Henry Krehbiel, New York Tribune)

So, strong if slightly mixed reviews, with the two doyens Aldrich and Krehbiel essentially in agreement. But, of course, what happened on the stage was not the only story that night. What of the “brilliant social throng” and “notables” noted in the Times‘ headline?

This goes on and on for inches and inches. Suffice it to say that pale blue satin was very much au courant that season, with mauve and pale pink also in evidence.

But all was not sweetness and light, you understand.

Mrs. Astor, one hopes, recovered in time for the central event of the 1906-1907 season, the Metropolitan Opera premiere of Madama Butterfly, performed in the presence of the composer with a stellar cast including Enrico Caruso, Louise Homer, Antonio Scotti and… of course, Miss Farrar, introducing one of her most famous roles. But that’s a subject for next Friday!

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