The Leavenworth Weekly Times

Patti in Paris.
Her Appearance in the Character of Valentine—A Gala Night at the Italiens.

(Correspondence N. Y. Times.)

The best representatives of Parisian intelligence, culture, wealth and refinement were assembled at the Salle Ventadour last night to hear Mme. Patti in the "Huguenots." For some days the city has been agitated over this unusual event. The celebrated cantatrice was to sing in French and take the part of Valentine for the first time in fourteen years. The discussions opened in advance among the amateurs and habitues of the scenes were frequently of a lively sort. It was urged that Mme. Patti had neither the force nor the voice for so heavy and difficult a role; and furthermore, those who professed to know something about it, insisted that her French accent was so bad that she could not hope to avoid a good deal of ridicule. In both things the knowing ones were in error. Mme. Patti was equal to the role of Valentine, although in the fourth act I could see from the avant-scene box in which I was sitting that it was a most terrible strain upon her force and voice. Her accent was the purest Parisian, and it was evident that M. de Caux had carefully corrected her modulation. In fact, of the two leading singers, it appeared that Mme. Beival had far more of the Italian accent than Patti. An entirely exceptional audience was present on this occasion. The announcement that the first representation would be under the patronage of Madame la Marechale herself, and for the benefit of the poor of Alsace-Lorraine, caused a flutter among the demi-mondaines, who began to move heaven and earth to get an entry. There is nothing they like more than these sort of gatherings, where they can see and criticise the leading ladies of society, and elbow the aristocracy during the entr'actes along the couloirs and in the saloon. But steps had been taken to make the audience extremely exclusive. All whose relations were not clearly known were told that the tickets were all sold, and fabulous sums were offered two days before the event. Twenty-five dollars for a single seat in the parterre were freely offered at the door by a number of elegantly dressed young men who had failed to gain admittance. Hence, the places were kept for high officials, journalists and literary men, the wealthy bankers the cream of Parisian high life, and a few noble strangers who are now within our gates. It was a representation de gala, and, Mme. De Caux afterwards remarked, "quite like a St. Petersburg audience for a performance ordered by the Emperor." The number of diamonds displayed was really astonishing. Beginning with Mme. De Rothschild, opposite where I was sitting, who wore a heart-shaped locket set with enormous brilliants, round as far as I could see there appeared to be a continuous stream of diamonds, and constant scintillations of light and color. But there was one exception worth noting. In a front box sat a lady of middle age, dressed in a single muslin robe of sombre tint, and without a single ornament visible save a plain marriage ring. Beside this simple figure were three distinguished looking gentlemen, and in the boxes on either side were two ladies who must have had a million's value in their hair. The plain little woman was the Grand Duchesse Marie, of Russia, who never loses one of Mme. Patti's evenings if she can help it. But, as a lady remarked, a Princess of the blood can afford such vagaries, while plain Mme. So-and-So would be disgraced.

THE PERFORMANCE

Mme. Patti's entrance upon the scene drew forth slight applause, but all were anxious to hear her before committing themselves too far. The first few notes, however showed that the voice was still there, and that the diva is still the grande artiste she has been for so many years. Her accent, as I have already remarked, was nearly faultless, and, as her rich notes came out like showers of pearls, the vast audience began to warm, and finally burst out into enthusiastic applause. Baron Rothschild applauded loudest and longest, and tried his best to get an air repeated, but it was too evident that the trial would prove a sufficient strain upon Patti's voice to admit of any extras. For a light voice the role Valentine is entirely out of the question, and Meyerbeer came very near writing something which could not be sung many times in a century. During the third act, Mme. Patti began to show her power, and the audience was moved, but it was in the fourth act that she gained her greatest triumph and showed herself an actress as well as a cantatrice. The stage was literally covered with flowers, and bouquets poured in from every direction. The Marechal was apparently charmed; but there was one man present who was radiant with joy, and that was Maurice Strakosch, who must have had his heart warmed by the sight of the splendid reception given to his former pupil. Mme. Patti sings here three times more—once more in "The Huguenots" and twice in "Faust"—and then we shall not hear from her again until she appears upon the stage of our new Grand Opera, now rapidly approaching completion. A detail to close: Mme. Patti was called three times before the curtain, and was so deeply moved that she could scarcely walk, and had to ask for aid. After her intrigue the emotion was too much for her. On retiring to her room she found it full of flowers, and she marched to it between two lines of artistes, all the people of the stage, with whom she was a great favorite having formed themselves into an escort.