The San Francisco call., 1898-04-20

r AsT night at the California Thea
 ter the short season of Italian
 opera was commenced with a per A formance of Verdi's La Travi- ata." in which Melba lived up to the glory of her name and at which San Francisco lived up to the glory Of her traditions. In fact, the town started a nice new set of traditions, of which 1t has stood in sore need these many years. during which the old ones lost their bloom and circumstance in the shuff1e. I feel more than ever con- vinced that we need only a few such inducements as Melba to get the name of being the most reckless town of the atrical spendthrifts on the map, in stead of the low-spirited, impecunious groWlers we are now held to be by the metropolitan managers who have failed to touch our treasure with second-rate and second hand attractions. If Melba was a success last night-and she was to the last limit to every one there who knew just what to expect and how much-so was San Francisco. The crowd made no moan over the seven dollar schedule of prices; it packed the small theater from orchestra rail to the last inch of sardine space in the gal lery; it was something like 2500 strong, and the box office receipts were exactly S7S00. San Francisco cheerfully paid the price of not having an opera house.
 Every woman knows that her gowns, jewels and other personal scenery and effects stand less chance of being seen ;,, of Q theaters here The outline of the audi torium, the rise of the main floor, the very crowded uncomfortableness of the seats themselves, all conSpire to make dressing low" an ungrateful invest ment. So it is only just to attribute the scarcity of Parisian gowns and priceless gems to the theater rather than to the prices and the times. And 1 am sure that no one of sound judgment in these little matters of elegance paid the slightest attention to the gossips who whispered it around the lobby that the fabulous price of seats had knocked diamonds out of fashion for several months to come, and that more mort gages had been recorded in the last week than in any other of local record. This was a base canard, set af1Oat by idle. jestful tongues. It is true that most of the crowd came in cable cars, and that fierce tiaraS of diamonds did not Smite the eye at every glance; but there was modest string of carriages along the curb, a necklace or two and quite a myriad of bracelets. and many belated earbObs and no end of rhine stone hair fixtures burning warmly in the half light of the theater.
 And in point of department the au- dienCe struck me as admirably at good will with itself and the art it listened to. It was an audience calm, comedy and distinguished, sure of what it liked and even surer of what it didn't; it applauded at the little applauding sta tions which Verdi so carefully marked off in his most ingeniously undramatic opera, and on several occasions the up- per part of it shouted with an enthusi- asm that was justifiable and splendid to hear. But I would better leave the audience to a more capable pen and get down to the business of the per formance.
 We have heard "Traviata" all the way from Patti to the Tivoli; it is an old song. Dramatically it is always an atrocious mutilation of good play, musically it is still a gush of good natured Italian melody, punctuated by dyspeptic recitatives. The melody of it is clear, rippling and insistent As in everything that Verdi has touched. the melodic inspiration is beyond question: But these very tunes, pretty and amia- ble as they are. with their dainty flut- ings and embroideries, are just the sort that do not illustrate the story of Camille-they distort, grotesque it. There is not one tear of real emotion in the whole opera. In fact, poor Camille is taken not only out of her century and tongue, but out of her color and senses as we'll
 It is only when a great singer. a Patti or Melha, lifts these incongruities on the top of her voice and makes every thing subsidiary to the spell of tone and