Confessions of an Opera Singer Part 9

The Grand Duke loved beautiful Oriental effects, and never seemed to me to be in the least German. He came to a supper-dance once, given by a Baronin O----, dressed as an oriental potentate of sorts. He kept the several hundred guests, and the good dinner waiting over an hour, because he insisted on making up the whole court himself. His wife wore a wonderful headdress she made herself, copied from the fresco in his music room. It was all gold beads and emeralds. Round her neck was a huge pear-shaped green stone. I was thinking of the chrysophrases I had seen inset in the wall of the music room, and said: "What wonderful chrysophrases, Your Royal Highness." "Not chrysophrases, emeralds," she gently corrected me.

The Baroness had engaged some people to entertain the Grand Duke at supper, served in the huge new ball-room, but two days before the ball, she telephoned she was in despair as the people had _abgesagt_, and she could get no one else. Would I be so awfully kind as I was coming anyway, to help her out? Every one in town knew all my intimate songs as I had sung them at various functions where the court was invited, so Marjorie and I had to put on our thinking caps to find a new "stunt."

Marjorie played the _Laute_, that big, graceful instrument so popular with the love-sick girl in Germany, and I knew some old French songs like "Claire de Lune," that I sang to her accompaniment. I went to the theatre and borrowed the tenor's Pagliacci costume, whitened my face and dressed Marjorie as a _Pierrette_. At a given signal I sprang from between purple curtains, put my finger to my lips, turned and beckoned to _Pierrette_ and led her to the little stage the Baroness had built.

The songs went off very well, and the day was saved. Later I changed to a _Dalila_ costume, and danced with the Grand Duke, dances he invented as we went along, a favourite amus.e.m.e.nt of his. He always held his partner to the side, with one arm about her waist, and I must say it was very practical and comfortable. He danced beautifully and his favourite partner was a tall Fraulein von B---- a friend of ours. Once returning from a concert in a little town in the Bergstra.s.se where I had been singing, and which had been attended by part of the court, this same Hofdame and a famous violinist happened to be with us. We took fourth-cla.s.s tickets which ent.i.tle you to travel with the peasants in large wooden box-cars, with benches running round the walls. We all danced to the violinist's playing, while the peasants looked solemnly on from their benches. I collected _pfennige_ in a hat which the violinist then put on his head, _pfennigs_ and all. It was a lovely trip.

We heard some of the formal court b.a.l.l.s were most amusing. We never went to them as we had not had ourselves presented formally, though this could have been easily arranged. The supper usually consisted largely of ham and spinach, typical of the German Royal simplicity. The dancing was conducted under difficulties. Reversing was not allowed, and all the dancers had to go in the same direction. When the Grand Duke wished to dance, his Chamberlain went in front of him to clear the way, as it was always dreadfully crowded. The women were not permitted to pick up their gowns, although trains were _de rigueur_ and no short skirts allowed. As nearly all the men are in uniform, including spurs, the ladies have to make frequent trips to the dressing room to repair damages. And yet it is fatal to wear an old gown, as the Grand Duke has a terrific memory and will say: "Oh, that is the charming gown you wore at Kiel two years ago, isn't it?"

All the officers and their wives above the rank of Major must be invited to the court b.a.l.l.s, and, in a small princ.i.p.ality like this, those of lower rank receive invitations too. One Lieutenant, a member of one of the oldest and poorest Darmstadt families, brought his bride to her first court ball. She was pretty, but beneath him in social position, and he had forgotten to tell her the rule about the trains. She lifted her bridal finery out of the way of the devastating spurs, and was politely requested by a messenger from Royalty to drop it again. Alas!

She forgot the warning and again switched her train up from the floor, upon which the oldest _Ehrendame_ (Maid of honour), requested her to leave the dancing floor. The poor husband felt it so keenly that he asked to be transferred to a regiment in another town, and his request was granted.

They have a custom of choosing an _erster Taenzer_ for every big ball.

He is usually one of the young officers of the highest birth, and his duties are to a.s.sist the hostess in every possible way, and lead all the dances.

Court etiquette is really a most hampering inst.i.tution. In talking to the Grand Duke for instance, I might not introduce a topic, he had to give all the leads. This naturally has a deadening effect on the conversation. At first the tongue-paralyzing "Yes, Your Royal Highness,"

"No, Your Royal Highness," even more paralyzing in German, "_Ja wohl, Koenigliche Hoheit_," "_Nein, Koenigliche Hoheit_," had to be gone through with, but after a few minutes' conversation I might follow the simple English custom in talking with Royalty, and say "Yes, Sir," or "No, Sir." When the Grand d.u.c.h.ess left a crowded ball-room it was painful both for her and for us. As she advanced, modest and self-conscious, one made a low _Knix_; to one lady she would give her hand, always bristling with rings, and you had to kiss the back of it, risking cutting your lip on the rings; to another merely a glance of the eye, or a nod of the head, and so the slow, tortuous exit was made. In the town on muddy days, you might come on the Grand Duke suddenly in a narrow street and you had to back up against the wall to let him pa.s.s, at the same time dragging your best skirt in the dirt in the knee-straining curtsey.

I often thought how immensely popular would be the Prince or Grand Duke or King, who would one day say, "Oh, stop it, all of you, and give me your hands and your eyes like human beings." But _what_ would the Kaiser say?

Before we went to Darmstadt the Grand Duke had had a tragedy from which they said he had never recovered. His adored little daughter Elisabeth was the idol of every one, and the town children's fairy princess. She was asked to visit her aunt, the Czarina, at Petrograd. While there she died very suddenly, though in perfect health when she left Darmstadt.

She is believed to have eaten some poisoned food prepared for the Czar's own children. A monument to her in the _Herren Garten_ at Darmstadt, shows a gla.s.s coffin of the fairytale type; in it lies sleeping "Snow-White," with the gnomes around her. Above, a weeping willow brushes soft fingers over the sleeping princess.

We had several _Backfisch_ admirers; the English "Flapper" comes nearer to translating this strange word than anything I know. These girls followed us closely in the streets for a year and finally met us. At first my sister had her band and I had mine. Finally they dwindled to just two, very sweet, charming young girls, of whom we became very fond.

Marjorie's was the daughter of a colonel, a count, who was very strict and military with his delicate flower of a girl.

As I have said, strange revealing glimpses of the Hun element came to us now and then, the spirit which now seems to engulf all the better German people. Two of our girl friends were daughters of a famous n.o.ble house.

Their father was a very old General who lived in great seclusion. His pretty, fair daughters L---- and E----, were often at our house, and were very fond of my mother who lived with us then. The old General finally died, and the girls were worn and bent with grief from his long illness and the trials of nursing him. Their brother was with his regiment, and for some reason could not get to them in time to make arrangements for the funeral. The girls were left badly off, and could not afford a pretentious ceremony. When they tried to explain this to the undertaker, he was incredulous, but finally said with a brutal sneering laugh: "Of course you can have a _pauper's_ funeral if you want one." Everything was done in a way to make it all as hard as possible for the poor girls by these brutes, and they used to come and tell us with floods of tears of the insults they had to swallow. At last the brother arrived, and of course as soon as he appeared in _uniform_ he was bowed down to and served as only a uniform is served in Germany by such brutal types.

During the second year in October word came to us that the Czar of Russia was coming to rest with his family at the Grand Duke's hunting lodge, just outside Darmstadt. We were nervous at the thought of all the Russian students who always throng the Technical School at Darmstadt. It seemed such an easy thing to bomb a man in such a small quiet town. They took great precautions, however, and nothing happened.

I sang many times for the Czar, in "command performances" of _Dalila_, etc. When he left he was good enough to send me a brooch "as a remembrance of his wife." It is the Imperial crown, with sapphire eyes, surrounded by a laurel wreath. He used to sit in a box nearest the stage with the Grand Duke. In the next box were the little Grand d.u.c.h.esses, Olga, Tatiana and Marie, and sometimes Anastasia, the littlest one of all. They would call in the intervals, "Papa, come in here; _do_ Papa dear." They always spoke English together. He would go to them and they would climb all over him, petting him and playing with his hair. It was rather charming to watch.

Prince Henry of Prussia was there too, as these three, the Grand Duke, Czar, and Prince Henry are, or were, fast friends. When they left the theatre a curious crowd always gathered to see them, but we never had so much as a glimpse of them, for five black, mysterious motors, closely hooded, left in a procession, and no one ever knew which one the Czar was in. The Czarina never came to the theatre; she was intensely nervous just then, and went nowhere.

The Czar was to leave Darmstadt on the Monday, and on Sunday we were to sing "Meistersinger" for him. The day before I had felt frightfully ill, and suffered as I had been doing for several weeks with pains in my side. Sunday morning I sent for a doctor, the pain being so bad I was afraid I would not be able to get through the performance that night.

The doctor in turn sent for the surgeon, who packed me off in an hour to the hospital for an appendicitis operation. The next morning I was operated upon, and they told me the Grand Duke had sent to ask how I was, as the Czar wished to know if the operation was successful before he left town. I thought it showed a charming, kindly thoughtfulness of others.

The nurses were all most kind to me in the hospital, but the surgeon was utterly uninterested in anything but the healing of the wound itself, and paid absolutely no attention to the other rather distressing occurrences of my illness. One could see that a highly strung, nervous American woman would have fared badly with him.

Sazonoff was with the Czar's suite, and I remember the Darmstadt.i.tes were much insulted because he always took the train to Frankfurt half an hour away, or to Wiesbaden (one hour), for luncheon or dinner, as he said there was nothing fit to eat at the local hotels. I secretly quite agreed with him.

We often went ourselves to Frankfurt for tea, or a wild American craving would come over me for lobster or chicken salad, and we would up and away to Wiesbaden for supper. Darmstadt was very conveniently situated for short trips, surrounded as it is by interesting towns--Heidelberg only a short distance south of us, or Mannheim close enough for a day's visit. I sang _Niklaus_ in "Hoffmann" in Mannheim for the first time without a rehearsal, having learnt the part in my room at the piano without a Kapellmeister to give me the _tempi_, and never having seen the opera. That was a trying experience, not helped by the tenor knocking me flat down in the Venetian scene as I rushed on to tell him that the watch was coming. He weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds, and colliding with him in midcareer, I gave him right of way by going down flat on my back.

At Frankfurt we heard a wonderful performance of "Elektra" with Richard Strauss conducting and Bahr-Mildenburg as _Klytemnestra_. I shall never forget her in it, nor the orchestral effects Strauss produced. I felt at the end as if I had been watching an insane woman, so marvellous was Bahr-Mildenburg's portrayal of the half-demented creature. Her large face, pale, with haunting, sick eyes, her scarlet, gold-embroidered draperies, the clutching, bony fingers on her jewelled staff, the swaying body she seemed barely able to keep erect, the psychology of the queen's character, all this together combined to give the exact effect she wanted, and to convey it strongly and clearly to the farthest seat in the big theatre.

We grew to know very well a Russian boy, whose family had interests in Darmstadt. He told us much of Russia and he and his sister seemed creatures of a different world to us. She was frail and exotic looking, with very curly, bronze hair, a skin like a gardenia petal, and the tiniest full-lipped, blood-red mouth I have ever seen. At home she spent most of her time in the saddle or in the stables. She had men's uniforms made, and rode out with the officers dressed as they were. They could both drink enormous quant.i.ties of _Bowle_ and follow it up with champagne and Swedish punch, and never even flush pink. Only S---- used to become very talkative and spout Greek verses by the hour. At that time we lived in a pension, and every Sat.u.r.day night or after a big performance of mine, say "Carmen," he would arrange an elaborate fete.

Sometimes we all had to appear dressed as Romans in sheets and wreaths, before he was satisfied. One night I remember I grew tired of our all being so monotonously beautiful, and came down dressed as a Suffragette, with the false nose I wear as the _Witch_ in "Haensel und Gretel,"

flowing grey locks, spectacles, and some ridiculous costume, half Greek and half witch. S---- was so horrified that he never once looked at me during the evening and I finally saw that he was so genuinely unhappy that I changed to something more esthetic.

He had as much spending money apparently as he desired, but his sister never had a cent. She had no evening gown and only shabby clothes. She seemed blissfully unaware of any shortcomings of her wardrobe, however, and only once felt the lack of a party dress. We arranged something for her that time, as she had no money to spend, and her brother did not seem to think it necessary to give her any. After a particularly successful fete, S---- would wander the deserted streets and kneel before fountains in the public squares, dipping water from them with his derby hat, and pouring it on the earth as libations to Pallas Athene, as he always called me. And he was not in the least drunk, if you will believe me, only fearfully Russian.

When they left the pension their luggage at the station consisted of a pile of shabby hand-baggage, mostly newspaper parcels. The girl had no purse but a soldier's little coin case of goatskin, so Frau von A---- emptied her own bag, and stuffed L----'s possessions into it. Their indifference to all these things which would all have been regulated and in keeping with their position if they had belonged to any other country than Russia, I believe was quite typical and seemed to me rather sublime.

S---- afterwards made a trip round the world. Goodness knows how he found out whether I was singing or not, but some night after singing one of my big roles I would receive a monstrous basket of red roses, or an armful of orchids, cabled for from Honolulu or China. He even remembered my _Dachshund's_ birthday, and cabled the baker to send Peter a wonderful _Torte_ with birthday candles.

CHAPTER XX

THE GRANDMOTHERS' BALLET

All this time I was working very hard at the opera. Our repertoire was very large, including nearly all the Italian operas, from Verdi to Wolf-Ferrari, and the German operas from the time of Weber and Mozart up to Humperdinck. Everything was given in German, some of the translations good and some poor. At first it had seemed terribly difficult to accustom myself to the German sounds in _Dalila_ or _Carmen,_ after the sonorous French, but latterly German came to seem quite as natural, though never so beautiful nor singable. Every one in the audience, however, understood the text, and surely this is the important thing.

How can they enter into the spirit of an opera when they are guessing whether that is a love phrase or an insult that the tenor is singing?

The prejudice against translating into the vernacular has had to be overcome in nearly all European countries and will, I suppose, be only a question of time with us. In Russia, operatic composers flowered and reached their world prominence only after the Russian language was used for the libretto. In Germany Italian was discarded for the language of the singers only after a long struggle, but the great abundance of German operas came after it was adopted, not before. In France also Italian libretti were used for generations, but can any one imagine a Debussy composing a "Pelleas et Melisande" to an Italian libretto? Each school must find itself in its own tongue, and I question whether these matters can be hurried.

I have always thought a good English translation would contribute more to the general pleasure of the audience than a misunderstood gabble of words, even though English is perhaps lacking in the subtle charm worked upon us by foreign speech.

My colleagues by this time accepted me almost as a German, and I did the routine work as though I were a German. Surely this experience is more profitable than an occasional appearance on a more famous stage, such as many of my own country-women aimed at. I often heard of their struggles against intrigue, and long pauses between roles, while they waited hoping for a chance. We all worked steadily through the season and rehea.r.s.ed every day. The scheme of rehearsals was worked out and given to us every two weeks on a printed _Spielplan_. This showed us exactly which operas and plays were scheduled for the next fortnight, and all the rehearsals we should have to attend, beginning with the room rehearsals for the soloists alone, then the stage rehearsals without chorus, the stage rehearsal with chorus and piano, and finally the _General Probe_, or last orchestra rehearsal on the stage, with everything as at a performance. At the side of the _Spielplan_ was a tentative list of works in preparation with their probable dates of appearance. All this made the work very systematic, and I knew exactly what time I should have for study and what for myself. If a rare week pa.s.sed without my singing at least once I grew restless and unhappy. My constant aim was to learn and develop, and every role taught me something. Versatility is a most useful attribute on the operatic stage, and if you play all the way from _Fides_ to soubrette parts in operetta, and the audience sticks to you, you may be considered fairly versatile.

I remember one strenuous week in particular. I had to sing _Dalila_ in Prague on Wednesday evening. "Zauberfloete" was scheduled for Tuesday in Darmstadt, and by taking a late train I could arrive in Prague in time to dress for _Dalila_. I had to sing the last bit of the _Third Lady_ in "Zauberfloete" in travelling dress with a black cloak thrown over me and then rush straight to the train. We travelled all night, changing at Dresden in the middle of the night, and waiting at the noisy station for some time. Arrived at Prague I went straight to the theatre, the old one with gas lamps for footlights. "Don Giovanni" of Mozart was given for the first time in this very theatre they told me, and was, I believe, directed by Mozart himself. I duly sang my _Dalila_ and sped back to Darmstadt, where I had to sing _Frau Reich_ Thursday night; and this tiring lady has to have a certain lightness of touch no matter how much train smoke you have swallowed. My troubles were not over yet as I had to take the train that night for Edinboro, Scotland, where I was to appear with the orchestra, and on the following night in Glasgow. The journey was long and tedious, and the only bright spot I can remember was while we crossed a bit of Belgium. We had had a lunch basket handed in with the typical bottle of _vin rouge_, and neither Marjorie nor I wanted it. The next time our train slowed down we happened to have an engine beside us, and I handed the wine through the window to the driver, who received it with true Belgian imperturbability.

I was very tired and very sick crossing the channel. We arrived in London in a terrible storm, feeling absolutely exhausted. Marjorie said, "The only thing that hasn't happened is, that we have not yet lost our baggage." We waited on the cold platform--it was November,--till all the luggage had been taken out of the vans--no familiar trunks for us. I went worn out to the hotel, leaving poor Marjorie to struggle. She made the round of the stations where possible trains from the coast might be met--all of no avail. The next day was Sunday and we could not possibly have found a gown for me to use at the concert. We slept that night in towels and underclothes, and if you've ever done it you know what sort of an all-night funeral _that_ is. The next morning early the missing trunks were found and we continued our journey. We were much amused when we found that no trains left for Scotland during the day on Sunday, and that they had to wait for the friendly cover of the night before they dared nefariously to slip out and break the Sabbath calm. Monday night I almost broke down on the platform during the concert, in one of the hugest halls in the world. Marjorie comforted me and sent for some whiskey which I gulped down between songs. Gradually the chilled blood in me thawed, and my voice with it, my nerve came back and I scored a success, as I did the following night in Glasgow. We then went back to Darmstadt the quickest possible way, having been in six countries in as many days.

We walked a great deal in the beautiful country round Darmstadt, and I sometimes rode over the miles of charming bridle paths. We made expeditions into the beautiful Taunus country, all gold and scarlet in autumn. The delightful custom of having _Wald Haeuse_ at convenient distances in every direction round the city, makes these expeditions a great pleasure. The coffee is usually good, and the cakes always so.

Darmstadt is on the Bergstra.s.se, almost a highway through that part of Germany, and we were pestered one year with a constant stream of beggars. They were usually ex-theatre people they said, and I found they only came to me and not to my colleagues, so word must have been pa.s.sed round that an "easy" and extremely rich American lived in the town, who was good for at least a mark.

The strangest stories circulated about us, and why we should choose Germany to live in. One was that I was the illegitimate daughter of King Edward, therefore a cousin of the Grand Duke, which explained a likeness to him which I could see myself. They said my sister and mother were really no relation to me, but simply paid to take care of me.

As I have said we had several picturesque privileges because I was a _Grossherzogliche Beamtin_--an employee of the Royal house. I used to go on certain days to the old Schloss near the theatre, no longer the residence of the reigning family as it was too old to be comfortable. I pa.s.sed under shadowy arches and through cobblestone courts, surrounded by aged windows, till I came to where the _Schloss Kellermann_ lived. I went down a steep old stone stair into the bowels of the earth, where I was greeted by the Head Cellarman, who wore a white ap.r.o.n and took orders at a candle-lit table. I told him just how much Rotwein I wanted, or perhaps a bottle of champagne for a treat, and paid a ridiculously small sum for it all. The Grand Duke got it duty free and at special rates, and we, as his employes were ent.i.tled to this rate too. For a small fee two large flunkies in _Grossherzogliche_ uniforms would deliver it to my apartment later in the day. I believe the cellars were very wonderful, but I never was asked to investigate.

I think only the princ.i.p.als had this privilege, neither the chorus nor the ballet sharing it, but I may be mistaken.

Our ballet was rather pitiful. Kind-hearted directors hesitated to dismiss faithful servants of years' standing, and the result was a phalanx of grandmothers at the back of the stage. I used to give my old clothes to the chorus and ballet women, and one family in particular I almost adopted. The poor mother was a handsome creature of about forty-five. Her eldest son was twenty-four and a carpenter, and two babies were born while I was in Darmstadt. Children of all ages came in between. The father drank and used to ill-treat the mother, who had to dance gaily as a peasant boy or gypsy, and then go home to all that misery. Little by little I told the officers' wives I knew about these things and they were very kind about sending their worn clothing to me to distribute amongst the women. I believe it amused them very much to see their old evening gowns washed, always washed, and refurbished, doing duty as "Empire" gowns, or as the latest thing in Paris creations on the backs of the walk-on ladies in the French comedies. Eighty marks a month is not much, even if it is paid all the year round, and somebody has got to help.

We had a school of forestry in the town, largely attended by American boys. It was in the period when our Western boys padded their shoulders tremendously and wore hump-toed boots. These boys were all husky specimens, who dressed in the most foresty of forest clothes, boots laced to the knee, wide western hats and flannel shirts. The woods round Darmstadt are all most tame and well looked after, but the boys seemed to think they were dressing the part correctly. When left to themselves these boys were quite well behaved, but the German students tried to bully them. The beer-drinking type of student, with his ridiculous little coloured cap stuck on one side of his head, thinks he owns his own particular cafe where his _Stamm-Tisch_ may happen to be. They objected to various mannerisms of the American boys who visited these cafes, and the American boys replied in their own western way by knocking the Germans down. This method of fist fighting was quite unknown to the Germans, who replied by sending a challenge to duel according to their custom. The American boys in turn knew nothing of duelling and refused to fight except with fists. I think a good many fat Germans bit the dust and got up swearing vengeance. Finally, we heard, the American boys wired to their fellow countrymen who were students in Frankfort, "Come over tonight and clean up." Exactly what happened we never heard, but as both sides grew to understand and respect each other more, the trouble gradually subsided. The Russian element, usually rather undesirable in Darmstadt, contributed largely to the disturbances.

There were several duelling corps in town, and an American friend of ours, a student at the technical college, told us of witnessing their extremely b.l.o.o.d.y combats. Part of the glory is to have yourself sewed up without an anesthetic, and go on fighting, and we heard sickening details. It is supposed to make your nerve tremendously steady, and the ones who go through the stated number of duels, fighting their way slowly through a regular course of progression, always the winner, must indeed be shock and disgust proof. The authorities frowned on the practice but it existed in force nevertheless. One boy killed another while we were there; he was imprisoned, but on his return was treated as a conquering hero by the members of his corps. That surely belongs to Hun training.

CHAPTER XXI

STAGE FASHIONS AND THE GLORY OF COLOUR