Quarter Notes

Il faut nous séparer . . ." With these simple yet prophetic words of Charlotte echoing in our ear we bid adieu in this issue of The Opera Quarterly to the most distinguished Werther of our time, Alfredo Kraus, the Spanish lyric tenor who recently passed away at the age of seventy-one.

Kraus was more than a singer known on this side of the Atlantic for his wonderful performances of the roles that constitute the core of the lyric-tenor repertory. He represented that rare breed of opera singer, one whose artistic standards and vocal technique served him throughout a very long career, making it possible for him to perform with distinction almost to the end of his life—in his case, beyond his seventieth year.

In this regard, comparisons with another illustrious artist of yore (albeit of another vocal category) are hard to resist. The Italian baritone Mattia Battistini, whose life span (1856-1928) almost matches that of Kraus (1927-1999) and overlapped Kraus's by one year, also pursued an active singing career almost up to his seventy-first birthday. (For those who like to search for order and meaning in the coincidences of human existence, it is interesting to recall that Battistini's very last public appearances—on the recital platform during a tour of continental Europe—occurred in the weeks right after Kraus was born, in late September-October 1927.) Both artists earned a reputation as "gentlemen" singers, respected by their colleagues onstage and off as much for their old-world manner as for their rigorously disciplined and well-preserved voices. Both men were unsurpassed bel canto stylists, prized for their Donizetti roles in particular (imagine if one could have heard them together in La favorita, a specialty they shared). Both became famous interpreters of the title role of Werther (although Battistini was a baritone, Massenet was sufficiently impressed with his artistry to adapt the vocal line of his opera's title role for him to perform). Both gentlemen sang extensively in Spain and married a Spaniard. Contemporary press notices of Battistini take on a prophetic ring when read alongside reviews of Kraus: "Mattia Battistini, still triumphantly defying time, sang at Queen's Hall and ravished our ears. . . . At sixty-six he is still the most elegant of the arbiters of song . . . the perfect technician . . . [He] retains his lyric quality throughout his range. . . but . . . his essential greatness lies in his perfect sense of style," gushed Musical Times of 1 June 1923; "Kraus at seventy is in splendid shape. . . . The voice has lost none of its candor—the melting timbre, the flawless technique, the rock-solid top notes. It may not be as compact as it once was, and some of the phrases taper away breathlessly at the end, but this was a negligible price to pay for such stylistic purity and old-fashioned elegance," said the Financial Times of 17 February 1998.

Of course, such comparisons can only go so far. Battistini, alas, never sang in the United States, whereas Kraus's regular appearances over the years in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and Dallas made him a beloved favorite of American audiences. Battistini's repertory was the vaster by far (encompassing some eighty roles, all told), whereas Kraus limited himself to some choice Italian bel canto parts like Bellini's Arturo and Elvino; Donizetti's Fernando, Gennaro, Edgardo, Nemorino, Tonio, and Ernesto; Verdi's Duke of Mantua and Alfredo; and a handful of classic French lyric roles like Faust, Roméo, Hoffmann, des Grieux, and, above all, Werther. In any case, the immense degree of love and adulation that these two artists received during their respective lifetimes seems to have sprung from a similar source; it was the inevitable outcome of a life dedicated seriously, and joyously, to the Art of Beautiful Song. The memory of such artistry never dies. May it survive to inspire and teach the present generation of songsters and to remain a living reality in the voices of tomorrow.

Speaking of coincidences: Just as this...