Part 16 (1/2)
_27._ Louise and I go to Rehearsal of _Gazza Ladra_ and to hear Mr.
Fechter in _No Thoroughfare_. He thinks more of himself than of the thoroughfare--good performance though. Letter from George Farnsworth.
_28._ Clear and cold. Rehea.r.s.ed _Gazza Ladra_.
_29._ [Louise] sang at Philharmonic--duet _Nozze di Figaro_ with Foli.
_30th._ Long rehearsal of Gazza. Dined at d.u.c.h.ess of Somerset's at 8 P.M. Met many best men of London. Duke of Newcastle took Louise in to dinner. Col. Williams took me. d.u.c.h.ess is an old tyrant--sang Louise to death--unmerciful--I despise her for her selfishness.
Indeed, every minute of those spring weeks was occupied and more than occupied. I never was so busy before and never had such a good time. The ”season” was a delightful one; and certainly no one had a more varied part in it than I. Thanks to the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess and our friends we went out frequently; and I was singing four and five times a week counting concerts. Private concerts were a great fad that season and I have often sung at two or three different ones in the same evening.
Colonel Mapleson was in great feather, having three _prime donne_ at his disposal at once, for Christine Nilsson had soon joined us, that curious mixture of ”Scandinavian calm and Parisian elegance” as I have heard her described. No two singers were ever less alike, either physically or temperamentally, than she and I; yet, oddly enough, we over and over again followed each other in the same _roles_. t.i.tjiens, Nilsson, and I sang together a great deal that season, not only in opera but also in concert. Our voices went well together and we always got on pleasantly. Madame t.i.tjiens was no longer at the zenith of her great power, but she was very fine for all that. I admired t.i.tjiens greatly as an artist in spite of her perfunctory acting. Cold and stately, she was especially effective in purely cla.s.sic music, having at her command all its traditions:--Donna Anna for instance, and Fidelio and the Contessa.
I sang with her in the Mozart operas. Particularly do I recall one night when the orchestra was under the direction of Sir Michael Costa. Both t.i.tjiens and Nilsson were singing with me, and the former had to follow me in the _recitative_. Where Susanna gives the attacking note to the Contessa Sir Michael's 'cello gave me the wrong chord. I perceived it instantly, my absolute pitch serving me well, but I hardly knew what to do. I was singing in Italian, which made the problem even more difficult; but, as I sang, my sixth sense was working subconsciously. I was saying over and over in my brain: ”_I've got to give t.i.tjiens the right note or the whole thing will be a mess. How am I going to do it?_”
I sang around in circles until I was able to give the Contessa the correct note. t.i.tjiens gratefully caught it up and all came out well.
When the number was over, both t.i.tjiens and Nilsson came and congratulated me for what they recognised as a good piece of musicians.h.i.+p. But Sir Michael was in a rage.
”What do you mean,” he demanded, ”by taking liberties with the music like that?”
One cannot afford to antagonise a conductor and he was, besides, so irascible a man that I did not care to mention to him that his 'cello had been at fault. He was a most indifferent musician as well as a narrow, obstinate man, although London considered him a very great leader. He only infuriated me the more by remarking indulgently, one night not long after, as if overlooking my various artistic shortcomings: ”Well, well,--you're a very pretty woman anyway!” It was his ”anyway” that irrevocably settled matters between us. He disliked Nilsson too. He declared both in public and in private that her use of her voice was mere ”charlatanry and trickery” and not worthy to be called musical. Nilsson was not, in fact, a good musician; few _prime donne_ are. On one occasion she did actually sing one bar in advance of the accompaniment for ten consecutive measures. This is almost inconceivable, but she did it, and Sir Michael never forgave her.
Mapleson was planning as a _tour de force_ with which to stun London a series of operas in which he could present all of us. ”All-star casts”
were rare in those days. Most managers saved their singers and doled them out judiciously, one at a time, in a very conservative fas.h.i.+on. But Mapleson had other notions. Our ”all-star” Mozart casts were the wonder of all London. Think of _Don Giovanni_ with Santley as the Don and t.i.tjiens as Donna Anna; Nilsson as Donna Elvira, Rockitanski of Vienna the Leporello, and myself as Zerlina! Think of _Le Nozze di Figaro_ with t.i.tjiens as the Countess, Nilsson Cherubino, Santley the Count, and me as Susanna! These were casts unequalled in all Europe--almost, I believe, in all time!
Gye, of Covent Garden, declared that we were killing the goose that laid the golden egg by putting all our _prime donne_ into one opera. He said that this made it not only impossible for rival houses to draw any audiences, but that it also cut off our own noses. n.o.body wanted to go on ordinary nights to hear operas that had only one _prima donna_ in them when they could go on star nights and hear three at once. However, Colonel Mapleson found that the scheme paid and our ”triple-cast”
performances brought us most sensational houses. Personally, as I have already said, I never liked Mapleson, and I had many causes for resentment in a business way. I remember one battle I had with him and the stage manager about a dress I was to wear in _Le Nozze di Figaro_. I do not recall what it was they wanted me to wear; but I know that, whatever it was, I would not wear it. I left in the middle of rehearsal, drove home in an excited state of indignation, and seized upon poor Colonel Stebbins, always my steady help in time of trouble. He went, saw, fought, and conquered, after which the rehearsals went on more or less peaceably.
Undoubtedly we had some fine artists at Her Majesty's, but occasionally Mapleson missed a big chance of securing others. One day we were putting on our wraps after rehearsal when my mother and I heard a lovely contralto voice. On inquiry, we learned that Colonel Mapleson and Arditi were trying the voice of a young Italian woman who had come to London in search of an engagement. The Colonel and the Director sat in the orchestra while the young woman sang an _aria_ from _Semiramide_. When the trial was over the girl went away at once and I rushed out to speak to Mapleson.
”Surely you engaged that enchanting singer!” I exclaimed.
”Indeed I didn't,” he replied.
She went directly to Gye at Covent Garden, who engaged her promptly and, when she appeared two weeks later, she made a sensation. Her name was Sofia Scalchi.
Besides the private concerts of that season there were also plenty of public concerts, a particularly notable one being a Handel Festival at the Crystal Palace on May 1st, when I sang _Oh, had I Jubal's Lyre_!
Everything connected with that occasion was on a large scale. There were seven thousand people in the house, the largest audience by far that I had ever sung to before. The place was so crowded that people hung about the doors trying to get in even after every seat was filled; and not one person left the hall until after I had finished--a remarkable record in its way! Some time later, when I was on my way home to America and wanted to buy some antiques, I wandered into a little, odd d.i.c.kens-like shop in Wardour Street. I wanted to have some articles sent on approval to meet me at Liverpool, but hesitated to ask the old man in the shop to take such a risk without knowing me. To my surprise he smiled at me a kindly, wrinkled smile and said, with the prettiest old-fas.h.i.+oned bow:
”Madame, you are welcome to take any liberties you will with my entire stock. I heard you sing 'Jubal's Lyre.' I shall never forget it, nor be able to repay you for the pleasure you gave me!”
I always felt this to be one of my sincerest tributes. Perhaps that is partly why the night of my first Crystal Hall Concert remains so clearly defined in my memory.
My mother's diary of this period continues:
_May 4._ Mr. Santley dined with us. Played Besique in the evening.
_I beat_.