The month of May has accented nostalgia, and commemoration. First, the Metropolitan Opera staged a gala for Mirella Freni, who was marking the 50th anniversary of her operatic debut. Miss Freni herself was the star of that show. And on Monday night, the Metropolitan Opera Guild staged a tribute concert to Renata Tebaldi, another Italian soprano, who died in December, at 82. Frankly, Tebaldi, like Miss Freni, was the star of her own show – because she sang on one video after another.

Alice Tully Hall was full of the most ardent fans, many of a certain age – and they applauded, sighed, and loved their hearts out. Opera is perhaps the only art that could have inspired such an evening. It was a classically – even stereotypically – operatic evening.

The concert had a hostess, Anna Moffo, still another Italian soprano – or rather, an Italian-American soprano. She did her job in a low-key way. Early on, she introduced a video showing Tebaldi and Jussi Bjoerling, the tenor, singing from Act I of “La Boheme.” Tebaldi was at her best, in full technical, musical, and theatrical command; Bjoerling was great too, though sharping as usual. When the video was over, Miss Moffo commented, “That’s pretty good.” Quite so.

Then she introduced some of Tebaldi’s colleagues, sitting in the audience: mezzo-soprano Mignon Dunn, tenor George Shirley, bass John Macurdy. But the first to be introduced was Licia Albanese (speaking of Italian sopranos). She got an ocean of applause, and, frankly, she milked it a little. Why not? A prima donna remains a prima donna.

Mirella Freni could not be at the gala, but she sent a graceful letter. And Jon Vickers, the Canadian tenor, sent a recorded message, from Bermuda: It was eloquent, admiring, and personal.

The best talker of the evening? Marilyn Horne, of course – the great American mezzo is talented in virtually every respect. As the crowd cheered her, she thrust her arms out, in a fashion she shares with Nixon. (Oh, she’ll love that.) And her remarks were thoughtful, humorous, natural – just right. (And delivered without notes, as far as I could tell.)

Miss Horne introduced a protegee of hers, Wendy Bryn Harmer, a soprano from Utah, who sang “Porgi, amor.” It was brave to sing Mozart – exposed, testing music – in this setting, before that crowd. The young woman justified her choice.

And then the American soprano Roberta Peters appeared, not to sing, but to talk: to read a letter she had written to Renata (“what I would say to her now”). Then we saw Tebaldi on “The Bell Telephone Hour” and “The Ed Sullivan Show.” Among the selections were “Suicidio!” and a duet from “Andrea Chenier” with Richard Tucker. At one point, the man next to me said, simply, “Oh, wow.” Again: Quite so.

In due course, Anna Moffo introduced Rudolph Giuliani, after first making clear that she was a Democrat. Mr. Giuliani got tremendous applause, along with a boo or two. He confessed to having had a crush on Tebaldi – and on Miss Moffo, too. (He singled out the dimples of both women.) And he said that, while we might fear that our memories are exaggerated, this night proved that Tebaldi was even better than one had remembered.

Next, some more video, of Tebaldi with Leonard Bernstein, in a concert at the U.N., almost 50 years ago. Conducting the New York Philharmonic, Bernstein was ridiculous in his rubato; Tebaldi was dignifiedly musical, as you counted on her to be.

A producer from Tebaldi’s label, Decca, was on hand – Christopher Raeburn, who spoke beautifully. (Ever heard a Brit who didn’t?) He was the only person all evening long who mentioned Maria Callas, thought to be Tebaldi’s rival. He also introduced the American tenor Anthony Dean Griffey (“Antony,” in Mr. Raeburn’s speech, of course), who sang two songs of Franceso Paolo Tosti.

One was “L’Aprile,” with its repeated exclamation, “E’ l’April!” That sometimes came out “He l’April!” and Mr. Griffey strangled some top notes. But he evinces a sincerity and likeability, and you always want to root for him. (Incidentally, Warren Jones accompanied Mr. Griffey, with considerable taste and beauty.)

Another singer was Sondra Radvanovsky, the soprano from Illinois, who has just finished a big season at the Met. She sang an extremely hard aria: “D’amor sull’ali rosee” (from Verdi’s “Il Trovatore”). In the main, Miss Radvanovsky handled it well, with great long breaths, and expert soft singing. Interpretively, she was somewhat self-indulgent, but she did not spoil the piece.

Anyone else? Yes, Carlo Bergonzi – born two years after Tebaldi – who flew in from Italy. The legendary tenor seems to make no concession to age, except for a cane: This proves a handsome accessory to his Hitchcockian figure. He gave a lovely speech about his relationship with Tebaldi, charmingly translated by Miss Moffo. And then he sang – Schubert’s “Ave Maria.” As we were on our feet, shouting, I thought, “Is this the last time we will salute Carlo Bergonzi?” I have asked that question maybe five times in the last 15 years. Perhaps I should stop asking it.

The last singer to appear was the soprano Aprile Millo. She did not sing, but spoke, and, as befits her personality, her remarks were way over the top. At least one thing she said struck me as indisputably true, however: Only another singer can really understand what Tebaldi achieved.

And the stage was left to Tebaldi, who, via an early-1960s film, sang the Willow Song and Ave Maria from “Otello.”

A couple of years ago, I interviewed Beverly Sills, who spoke of a conversation she had with Tebaldi, late in the older diva’s retirement. “How do you spend your time, Renata?” asked Miss Sills. Tebaldi replied, “I listen to my records and cry.” Let us hope that the great one’s post-career years were happier, and fuller, than that. But let it also be said that there were some wet faces in Alice Tully Hall on Monday night, too.