Memoirs of an American Prima DonnaKellogg, Clara Louise
General
Memoirs of an American Prima Donna
Kellogg, Clara Louise
Kellogg, Clara Louise, 1842-1916; Singers -- United States -- Biography
Maretzek secured the score during the winter of '62-'63 and then spoke
to me about the music. I worked at the part off and on for nine months,
even while I was singing other parts and taking my summer vacation. But
when the season opened in the autumn of 1863, the performance was
postponed because a certain reaction had set in on the part of the
public. People were beginning to want some sort of distraction and
relaxation from the horrors and anxieties of war, and now began to come
again to hear the old favourites. So Maretzek wanted to wait and put off
his new sensation until he really needed it as a drawing card.
Then came the news that Anschutz, the German manager, was about to bring
a German company to the Terrace Garden in New York with a fine
_répertoire_ of grand opera, including _Faust_. Of course this settled
the question. Maretzek hurried the new opera into final rehearsal and it
was produced at The Academy of Music on November 25, 1863, when I was
very little more than twenty years old.
Before I myself say anything about _Faust_, in which I was soon to
appear, I want to quote the views of a leading newspaper of New York
after I had appeared.
A brilliant audience assembled last night. The opera was _Faust_.
Such an audience ought, in figurative language, "to raise the roof
off" with applause. But with the clumsily written, uninspired
melodies that the solo singers have to declaim there was the least
possible applause. And this is not the fault of the vocalists, for
they tried their best. We except to this charge of dullness the
dramatic love scene where the tolerably broad business concludes
the act. With these facts plain to everyone present we cannot
comprehend the announcement of the success of _Faust_!
Who was it said "the world goes round with revolutions"? It is a great
truth, whoever said it. Every new step in art, in progress along any
line, has cost something and has been fought for. Nothing fresh or good
has ever come into existence without a convulsion of the old, dried-up
forms. Beethoven was a revolutionist when he threw aside established
musical forms with the _Ninth Symphony_; Wagner was a revolutionist when
he contrived impossible intervals of the eleventh and the thirteenth,
and called them for the first time dissonant harmonies; so, also, was
Gounod when he departed from all accepted operatic forms and
institutions in _Faust_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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