Memoirs of an American Prima Donna Part 16

_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_.

_5._ Louise and I went to St. James Hall rehearsal. After went to Theatre. Learned Nilsson did not have as good a house 2nd night as Louise's first one in _La Gazza Ladra_. Mr. Arditi came to rehea.r.s.e the waltz.

_6th._ _La Gazza Ladra._ Full house--enthusiasm--Duke of Newcastle came in.

_7._ Arditi's rehearsal for his concert at his house at 5 P.M.--went--house full--hot and funny. Mr. S---- came in the evening--played one game Besique.

_8._ Intended to go to Haymarket Theatre but Miss J---- had headache. Santley came in the afternoon to practise Susanna.

_9._ Santley called. McHenry and Stebbins, with another Budget of disagreeables from Mapleson who, not satisfied with cheating her [Louise] out of $500., deliberately asked her to give him 3 nights more! Shall have his money if we have to go to law about it.

_Monday._ [Louise] Sang at Old Philharmonic flute song from _The Star_. Mr. Stebbins went to Jarrett and told him Miss Kellogg would sing no longer than the 15th--her engagement closes then--but that Mapleson must pay her what he owed her--that he would have the checks that day or sue him.

_Tuesday._ Just got the second check of 150, showing that a little _h.e.l.l fire and brimstone administered in large doses_ is a good thing. The Englishman has not outwitted the Yankee yet!

_12._ Louise sang _Don Giovanni_--t.i.tjiens "Donna Anna," Santley "Don Giovanni," Nilsson "Elvira." Crowded house--seats sold at a premium--Louise received all the honours--everything encored--4 bouquets. Nilsson and t.i.tjiens were encored only for the grand trio. The applause on _Batti Batti_ was something unequalled.

_13._ Went to photographers. Miss Jarrett, Santley and ourselves dined at Mr. Stebbins'--went to hear Lucca in _Fra Diavolo_--was delighted--she was not pretty but intelligent--sang well--not remarkable, but showed great cleverness--full of talent--acted it well--filled out the scenes--kept the thing going. The Tenor was good. I remained through the second act. Dropped my fan onto a bald head. Went over to Drury Lane--heard one act of _The Hugenots_.

_14._ Mr. S---- dined with us--played Besique in the evening--Louise beat of course.

_15._ [Louise] Sang _Don Giovanni_ to a full house. Bennett came and Smith and Mapleson and Duke of Newcastle.

_16._ Santley sang in rehearsal _Le Nozze di Figaro_. Mr. Stebbins dined with us. Played solitaire in the evening with the new Besique box.

I sang several times at the Crystal Palace Concerts with Sims Reeves, the idolised English tenor. Never have I heard of or imagined an artist so spoiled as Reeves. The spring was a very hot one for London, although to us who were accustomed to the summer heat of America, it seemed nothing. But poor Sims Reeves evidently expected to have heat prostration or a sunstroke, for he always wore a big cork helmet to rehearsals, the kind that officers wear on the plains of India. The picture he made sitting under his huge helmet with a white puggaree around it, fanning himself feebly, was one never to be forgotten. He had a somewhat frumpy wife who waited on him like a slave. I had little patience with him, especially with his trick of disappointing his audiences at the eleventh hour. But he could sing! He was a real artist, and, when he was not troubling about the temperature, or his diet, he was an artist with whom it was a privilege to sing. I remember singing with him and Mme. Patey at a concert at Albert Hall. Mme. Patey was an admirable contralto and gifted with a superb technique. We three sang a trio without a rehearsal and, when it was over, Reeves declared that it was really wonderful the way in which we all three had "taken breath" at exactly the same points, showing that we were all well trained and could phrase a song in the only one correct way. This was also noticed and remarked upon by several professionals who were present.

I also sang with Alboni. At an Albert Hall concert on my second visit to England a year or two later, I said to her:

"Madame, I cannot tell you how honoured I feel in singing on the same programme with you."

She bowed and smiled. She was a very, very large woman, heavily built, but she carried her size with remarkable dignity. I was considerably amused when she replied:

"Ah, Mademoiselle, I am only a shadow of what I have been!"

My most successful song that season was my old song _Beware_. It was unusual to see a _prima donna_ play her own accompaniment, which I always did to this song and to most _encores_. The simple, rather insipid melody was written by Moulton, the first husband of the present Baronne de Hegeman, and it was not long before it was the rage in the sentimental younger set of London. How tired I became of that ridiculous sign-post cover and the "As Sung by Miss Clara Louise Kellogg" staring up at me! And how much more tired of the foolish tune:

[Ill.u.s.tration: Musical notation; I know a maid-en fair to see, Take care! Take care!]

One of the greatest honours paid me was the command to sing in one of the two concerts at Buckingham Palace given each season by the reigning sovereign. I have always kept the letter that told me I had been chosen for this great privilege. Cusins, from whom it came, was the Director of the Queen's music at the Palace.

CHAPTER XVII

THE ROYAL CONCERTS AT BUCKINGHAM

The Royal Private Concerts at Buckingham Palace formed in those days, and I believe still form, the last word in exclusiveness. Many persons who have been presented at court, in company with a great crowd of other social aspirants, never come close enough to the inner circle of royalty to get within even "speaking distance" of these concerts. In them the court etiquette is almost mediaeval in its brilliant formality; and yet a certain intimacy prevails which could not be possible in a less carefully chosen gathering. So sacred an inst.i.tution is the Royal Concert that they have a fixed price--twenty-five guineas for all the solo singers, whatever their customary salaries,--the discrepancies between the greater and the lesser being supposedly filled in with the colossal honour done the artists by being asked to appear.

Queen Victoria seldom presided at these or similar functions. The Prince of Wales usually represented the Crown and did the honours, always exceedingly well. I have been told by people who professed to know that his good nature was rather taken advantage of by his august mother, who not only worked him half to death in his official capacity, but never allowed him enough income for the purpose. Personally, I always liked the Prince. He was a tactful, courteous man with real artistic feeling and cultivation. He filled a difficult position with much graciousness and good sense. More than once has he come behind the scenes during an operatic performance to congratulate and encourage me. The Princess was good looking, but was said to be both dull and inflexible. The former impression might easily have been the result of her deafness that so handicapped her where social graces were concerned. She could not hear herself speak and, therefore, used a voice so low as to be almost inaudible. When she spoke to me I could not hear a word of what she said. I hope it was agreeable.

My mother's entries in her diary at this point are: