Gatti Dominates the Heights to Which He Has Brought His House.
Thais. Mme. Jeritza opens the Metropolitan opera season Monday, Nov. 5, in Thais (Massenet). Aida (Verdi) will be given on Wednesday; La Tosca (Puccini) on Thursday; Die Meistersinger (Wagner) on Friday; Romeo et Juliette (Gounod) on Saturday afternoon, and Rigoletto (Verdi) on Saturday night.
Story of Thais. Athanaय, a Cenobite monk living in the Theban desert near Alexandria, worships God through self-mortification. On a visit to Alexandria he meets Thaïs, beautiful courtesan who worships Venus. Nicias, a young Sybaritic philosopher, has bought her love for one week. The monk Athenaय perceives in a vision that his mission is to spiritualize Thaïs, to make her the bride of Christ. His ancient comrade, Pelamon, says: "My son, ne'er mingle with the people of this era"; Nicias laughs in scorn; the mob throws stones; yet he succeeds in reforming Thaïs. Thaïs sees the emptiness of pleasure, is led in ecstacy to a convent. Then Athanaय leaves her, but finds that he loves her in the flesh. Madly he denounces God, says nothing is real " but life and passion in the human," returns to the convent. But beautiful Thaïs is converted and dies singing " I see God."
In the novel of Anatole France the monk continues to exist, shameless and bitter; in the opera he is forgotten.
Singers. On hand are Sopranos Jeritza, Matzenauer, Easton, Bori, Delaunois; Contraltos Wakefield, Howard; Tenors Gigli, Martinelli; Baritones Scotti, Wolf, Danise, Didur; Bassos Rothier, D'Angelo.
Gatti. The season finds the Metropolitan high in the joys of tranquillity, prosperity, prestige. It is the 16th year of Mr. Giulio Gatti-Casazza's directorship. Few cares there are to vex the brows of impresario and Board of Directors. Deficits, the bane of opera, are not heard of. There are no violent dissensions that break upon the public ear. People of musing memory may be diverted to go back to the very different state of things that prevailed during Mr. Gatti's first years.
In 1908 it was announced that the opera manager, Mr. Conreid, had resigned because of ill health. A new manager was needed — more than a manager, a giant, a prodigy. Metropolitan and deficit had become synonymous words. For years the organization had staggered along under heavy losses. Philanthropic patiences were said to be verging on exhaustion. With financial evils there were bickerings and disturbances. And when you have singers and musicians dissensions become wars and disputes pitched battles. Some subtle intelligence and masterful hand was needed to put the Metropolitan on its feet. The process normal to good business — and the Directors of New York's opera have always been business men — was to pick the best known success in the field of operatic management. Such a well known success was not far to seek.