The Mapleson Memoirs, 1848-1888 Volume I Part 18

Long before the first act was completed Mdme. Gerster's energies had returned. She was in full possession of her marvellous vocal powers, and a triumphant evening was the result of my labours.

About this time I commenced autumn Sunday evening concerts, in which the whole of my singers took part, the first portion of the evening beginning, as a rule, with a fine performance of Rossini's _Stabat Mater_, Valleria, Cary, Campanini, Gala.s.si, and Novara singing the music very effectively. The houses were invariably crowded to the roof.

About this time, I settled a grand opera festival for Cincinnati the ensuing spring, in conjunction with the College of Music, and for that purpose organized a chorus of some 400 extra voices, and an orchestra of some 150 musicians; after which I left for Chicago to confer with Colonel George Nichols as to the arrangements.

We afterwards visited Boston, where our performances met with the greatest possible success, each week's receipts averaging no less than 35,000 dollars, the reappearance of Mdme. Etelka Gerster creating immense excitement. At the _matinee_ given on January 1st, at which she appeared, upwards of 100 ladies' odd india-rubber overshoes were picked up on the family circle staircase lost in the rush after the opening of the doors, there being a heavy snowstorm raging at the time. The receipts were over 1,200 notwithstanding. _Aida, Mefistofele, Carmen, Don Giovanni_, and _Puritani_ completed the week's _repertoire_. We afterwards left for Philadelphia, followed by Baltimore, Washington, Pittsburg, Indianapolis, Chicago, and St. Louis, the Opera being a signal success all along the line. We closed up on the Sat.u.r.day night at St. Louis, leaving by special train at 1 a.m., shortly after the conclusion of the night's representation, for Cincinnati. The soloists, choristers, and orchestra arrived at about three o'clock on the Sunday afternoon, rather tired; and they spent this afternoon in hunting up hotels and boarding-houses. In the evening we had a stage rehearsal of _Lohengrin_, with chorus and part of the orchestra. My own chorus was on hand, together with the Cincinnati contingent some 350 strong--all present without a single absentee. But large as the stage was there was plenty of room for all and to spare. The beautiful _Lohengrin_ choruses were finely rendered, and the volume of tone resounding through the vast building was truly grand. The rehearsal was afterwards dismissed, and everyone retired to rest.

Early the following morning the final rehearsal was called, which terminated at twelve o'clock; and that same evening the first great Opera Festival was inaugurated--undoubtedly the most daring musical enterprise ever attempted in America or any other country. The sight of the audience from the private boxes was worth a journey to see. It was one sea of faces. Everything looked auspicious for the success of the festival. The weather was pleasant, the crowds were large and enthusiastic, and the singers were _en rapport_ with the audience, whilst the chorus did its very best.

The orchestra, also, was the finest ever heard in Cincinnati, composed of 150 first-cla.s.s musicians, who did their work splendidly. In fact, the _ensemble_ was complete.

The scene outside the hall was one of bewildering confusion. Myriads of elegant carriages darting round corners, pedestrians jostling against each other to arrive before the doors were closed, an immense rabble outside, who had gone to catch only a glimpse of the handsomely-dressed ladies as they went in; such was the scene, which, I must add, was illuminated by the newly-invented electric light. In spite of the most stringent police regulations the streets were blocked, and it is not surprising that there were several horrible accidents. Notwithstanding four wide exits it was an hour and a half after the performance was over before the last carriage could get off.

The toilettes of the ladies, for which Cincinnati is so famous, were most elegant. Our grand performance of _Lohengrin_ was followed by Mozart's _Magic Flute_, Mdme. Gerster singing the _role_ of the "Queen of Night." The third opera was Boito's _Mefistofele_, for which 8,000 reserved seats were sold. The fourth night we had _Lucia di Lammermoor_, followed by an act from _Moses in Egypt_; the extreme back of the stage representing a burning sun, and the whole 400 choristers joining together with the princ.i.p.als in the grand prayer, "Dal tuo stellato soglio," which terminates the opera. On the fifth night Verdi's _Aida_ was given with entirely new scenery, painted for the occasion, together with new dresses and properties.

A morning performance, _La Sonnambula_, was given next day, with Gerster. The audience, like all the previous ones, was immense. Every seat was occupied, whilst 2,000 people who had paid two dollars apiece were standing up. The toilettes of the ladies were simply magnificent, baffling all description. The audience went wild over Gerster, encores were demanded and re-demanded, people hurrahed and waved their handkerchiefs, whilst the most expensive bouquets and flowers were pelted on the prima donna, who at last was embowered in roses.

On the last evening Gounod's _Faust_ was performed. The end was as glorious as the beginning. By seven o'clock the big hall was again filled, and at half-past seven, when Arditi took up the _baton_, the house was packed and jammed from the top-most part of the gallery.

The audiences throughout the week were most brilliant. Before separating a Committee meeting was held; and it was resolved that the festival should be renewed the following year, when Mdme. Patti and Mdme. Albani should, if possible, be added to the list of vocalists.

This was followed by a grand banquet at the club, where amongst others I had the honour of making the acquaintance of Mr. Reuben Springer, the donor of the magnificent hall in which the festival had been held.

The profits of the week reached 50,000 dollars. We afterwards visited Detroit, Syracuse, and Albany, returning to New York in the early part of March.

On the 25th March a morning performance was given of _Lucia di Lammermoor_, when the Academy was fairly packed from _parquet_ to gallery by a most fashionable audience, not so much to hear _Lucia_ as to hear Mdme. Gerster. At the rush at the opening of the doors the ticket-taker discovered a forged free pa.s.s purporting to bear my name.

On his own responsibility he handed over to the police the two men who had come in with the ticket, and they were taken off to the police-station, where I was immediately sent for.

The forgery being proved they were both committed for trial, the magistrate at the same time notifying that if we took them up at once in an elevated train to Ninety-second Street the a.s.sizes would be on, and their case could be at once decided.

They were duly taken on, and the matter gone into. One of the men was committed to prison for a year, and the other one was placed under the care of the Commissioners of Charities and Corrections for two years on Randall's Island.

I got back to the Academy in time to hear the mad scene.

On returning the following year I made inquiry as to the man who had been sent to the Reformatory, and was informed that he had died only the day before. So also had the judge of the a.s.size Court: a remarkable coincidence.

We remained in New York until the 9th April, when we were again called to Boston to give six performances, each of which averaged $5,000. After a _matinee_ on the Sat.u.r.day we returned to New York by special train, in order to give a Sunday concert, when over 4,000 dollars were taken at the doors. We then gave six more extra farewell performances in New York, sailing for Europe immediately on the conclusion of the last one, and arriving in London about six days prior to the opening of my season.

Early in the spring of 1881 I received a communication from Messrs.

Ricordi, of Milan, the publishers and proprietors of Boito's _Mefistofele_, in which they solicited me to allow Signor Nannetti, the ba.s.so, who was then performing the t.i.tle _role_ at the Scala, to delay his engagement with me for the period of a fortnight, in order that the successful run of the work might not be interrupted; in exchange for which they offered me the services of the musical director, Signor Faccio. To this I consented, and the eminent conductor was duly announced in my prospectus. But instead of keeping Nannetti two weeks in Milan they kept him five, during which time my season had opened and Mdme. Nilsson had arrived in London in order that I might take up the successful run of _Mefistofele_ which had been interrupted only by the close of the previous season. Mdme. Nilsson, however, refused to appear until Nannetti came; and it was not until the 23rd June that I could reproduce Boito's _Mefistofele_. Faccio never turned up at all.

CHAPTER XVII.

PRODUCTION OF "IL RINNEGATO"--RAVELLI'S OPERATIC THEORY--NEGOTIATIONS WITH COVENT GARDEN "LIMITED"--A SEARCH FOR A PRIMA DONNA--FAILURE OF PATTI'S CONCERTS--CINCINNATI OPERA FESTIVAL OF '82--PATTI'S INDISPOSITION.

MY London season of 1881 commenced at Her Majesty's Theatre, on the 7th May. Nothing of note took place prior to the arrival of Mdme. Christine Nilsson, who appeared on the 28th as "Margherita" in _Faust_, which character she repeated, together with "Mignon," until the 23rd June, when, after two postponements, we were enabled to reproduce Boito's _Mefistofele_. The attraction of this opera had, however, considerably diminished, possibly on account of its having been produced so late in the previous season, when a few performances were given, and afterwards interrupted for a period of nearly ten months. During this time negotiations were entered into between Baron Bodog Orczy and myself for the production of an opera composed by the Baron on a Hungarian subject, and ent.i.tled _The Renegade_; in Italian _Il Rinnegato_.

Baron Orczy, friend and pupil of Liszt, and a fervent admirer of Wagner's works, had been the Intendant of the Royal Theatre at Pesth, where he at once gave a proof of keen musical discernment by engaging Richter as his orchestral conductor. Report said that he had given up his important post by reason of representations made to him on the subject of his excessive devotion to Wagnerian music. However that may be, the Baron had shown himself by several excerpts from his opera, performed at St. James's Hall and at the Crystal Palace, to be a composer of no mean ability. He handled the orchestra with skill and power, and if his opera did not prove so successful with the general public as his friends must have desired, that result may partly be accounted for by the over-elaboration of the score, and the importance attached by the composer to the instrumental portions of his work.

Composed to a Hungarian libretto, _The Renegade_, of which the subject was derived from an historical romance by a popular Hungarian novelist, had, with a view to production at my theatre, been translated into Italian; and two of the leading parts had been a.s.signed to Ravelli the tenor, and Gala.s.si the baritone.

Ravelli had not long been a member of my Company; he was one of my chance discoveries. One evening, as so often happened, I was at the last moment in want of a tenor. The hall porter, finding that I was sending about London in quest of a possibly suitable vocalist, told me that a dark little man with a tenor voice had been hanging about the stage-door, and the Colonnade in front of the theatre, for some ten days past, and that he was sure to be somewhere in the neighbourhood. The artist in question was found. I asked him whether he could really sing.

His answer may be guessed; and when I further questioned him as to whether he knew the part of "Edgardo" he replied that he did, and in some measure verified his a.s.sertion by singing portions of it. He showed himself the possessor of a fine, clear, resonant voice; and if he sometimes sang without true dramatic expression, and without the grace which springs from perfect art, he at least knew how to thrill the public with a high note effectively thrown in.

It is not my purpose, however, for good or ill, to criticize the singing of Signor Ravelli. I am now dealing with him only in so far as he was connected with the opera of _Il Rinnegato_. In the second act of that work the tenor and baritone fight a duel. In this there was no novelty.

But instead of the tenor killing the baritone, the baritone puts the tenor to death, and this struck Signor Ravelli as far too new. He appealed to operatic traditions and asked in an excited manner whether such a thing was heard of before. "No!" he exclaimed, answering with vigour his own question; and he added that though he was quite ready to take part in the duel, he would do so on condition that not he but his antagonist should be slain. It was useless to explain to him that in the story upon which the opera was based the character represented by the tenor perished, while the baritone lived on. This, he said, was just what he complained of. "Why," he indignantly demanded, "should the tenor's part in the opera be thus cut short? But why, above all, should the habitual impersonator of heroes fall beneath the sword of one who was accustomed only to play a villain's part?"

It was impossible to get the infatuated man to hear reason on the subject. He cried, screamed, uttered oaths, and at one time threatened to kill with his dagger, not only his natural enemy, the baritone, but everyone around him. "I will kill them all!" he shrieked.

After a time, by humouring him and agreeing with him that in a well-ordered operatic duel the tenor ought, of course, to kill the baritone, I got him to listen to me; and I at last contrived to make him understand that there were exceptions to all rules, and that it would be generous on his part to overlook the species of indignity to which he was asked to submit, the affront offered to him not having been intended as such, either by the librettist or, above all, by the amiable composer. It was settled then that Ravelli was to be killed. But what, he wished to know, was to be done with his body after death? The proper thing would be, he said, for six attendants to enter, raise the corpse, and carry it solemnly away to a place of repose.

It mattered little to me whether the body of Ravelli was borne from off the stage by six, eight, or a dozen attendants. But according to the plan of the opera he had to lie where he had fallen while the soprano, whom in his character of tenor he had pa.s.sionately loved, sang a lament over his much-loved form. I told Ravelli that it was a great compliment thus to be treated by a despondent prima donna. But he could not see it, and he calculated that the soprano's air, with the orchestral strains introducing it, would keep him in what he considered an ignominious position for something like ten minutes. It was absolutely necessary to promise Ravelli that his mortal remains should be removed from the stage to some quieter resting-place by six corpse bearers, the number on which he had set his heart; and he was honoured, if I remember rightly, with the funeral he had stipulated for at the last rehearsal. Baron Orczy had protested against this arrangement; but I a.s.sured him that there was nothing else to be done, and that everything should take place according to book at the public representation.

On the night of performance Ravelli was, of course, left rec.u.mbent on the stage. He must have thought more than once, as he lay writhing with shame and anger on the boards, of rising and rushing off. But he feared too much the laughter and derision of the public, and he had to remain pa.s.sive while the orchestral introduction was being played, and while the prima donna's soliloquy was being sung. Many of us thought the strain would be too much for him, and that he would go raving mad. But when he found himself once more a free agent behind the scenes he stabbed no one, struck no one, and, strange to say, seemed perfectly quiet. The humiliation to which he had been subjected had somehow calmed him down.

If Ravelli was wild and pa.s.sionate, Gala.s.si, his a.s.sociate, was a reasonable man whose presence of mind had possibly the effect of saving my theatre from being burned a second time. There was a good deal of fire in _Il Rinnegato_, and in one scene the green lights surrounding an apparition starting from a well caught some gauze, so that the well itself burst into flames, the result being such a blaze that but for Gala.s.si's prompt.i.tude in dealing with it the conflagration might have proved fatal to the building.

While the baritone was smothering the fire with his cloak and with some canvas on which the gra.s.s was painted--at the same time trampling the burning embers under foot--a portion of the audience had taken alarm and was already hurrying to the doors. At this critical moment I could not but admire the calm air of dignity with which Baron Orczy, who was conducting his work, continued to mark the time and to direct the performance generally as though nothing at all extraordinary were taking place. I feel sure that this determined att.i.tude of the composer in the presence of what, for a few seconds, seemed likely to lead to a terrible calamity, had a considerable effect in allaying the general excitement.

"How can there be danger," many must have asked themselves, "when that gentleman who is conducting the orchestra, and who is so much nearer the supposed fire than we are, does not evince the least alarm?"

Towards the close of this season, negotiations were again opened by the Messrs. Gye towards purchasing my lease, goodwill, and interest, together with a certain portion of my costumes and scenery, with a view to an operatic monopoly. Ultimately terms were arranged, and an agreement concluded, which was not to come into force until the shares of the projected Company had been taken up; and it was only in August, 1882, that I was notified that sufficient shares had been placed to justify the Company starting, and my agreement coming into force. In the meantime I had been left to sustain the burden of the current expenses, rates, taxes, etc., of my own theatre, until the transfer could be made.

The arrangement entered into was that I should have so much cash, and so many shares, together with an engagement for a period of three years, at a salary of 1,000 per annum, besides 50 per cent. of the profits made in America, where I was to have sole control of the business.

In the early part of October, 1881, I started with my party for New York. The season opened on October 17th, with a performance of _Lohengrin_ by Campanini, Gala.s.si, Novara, Anna de Belocca, and Minnie Hauk, which gave great satisfaction. This was followed by a performance of _Carmen_, in which Minnie Hauk, Campanini, Del Puente, and Valleria resumed their original parts.

A few days prior to the sailing of the Company for America I visited Paris, where I heard a young vocalist, Mdlle. Vachot, sing; and at once negotiated with her for an engagement. She did not like the idea of crossing the ocean; but she was overruled by her father, a small farmer at Varreds.

Being in a hurry to conclude the engagement I called upon her the next day, with a contract in my pocket, when the servant informed me that she and her father had gone to Varreds to consult some relatives. On learning the name of the place I went to the station, and there heard the manager of the Grand Opera asking the ticket-seller how to get to Varreds. Luckily, he decided not to take that train. Thereupon I entered it; though being desperately hungry I was sorely tempted to lunch before doing so.

The nearest place on the railroad was Meaux. I got there in a pelting rain-storm to find that I had to travel nine miles across country to Varreds. I managed to get a trap, but we had not gone more than half way before one of the traces broke, which, after some delay, I got repaired.

Finally I reached a clump of mud hovels; and this, I was told, was Varreds. I asked a cowboy whom I met if he had seen Mdlle. Vachot. He replied that he did not know her. He had seen two strangers, a lady and a gentleman, walking towards the "hotel," which I found to be a mud hut, with accommodation for men, women, and chickens, more especially the latter, which were walking all over the parlour floor. Nothing was known at this hotel, except that two strangers who had recently arrived, after leaving a bundle of shawls, had been seen going towards the cemetery.

On arriving at the cemetery I found the gate locked. I then went to the cure, who said he knew nothing of Mdlle. Vachot. Finally I met a blacksmith who knew her, and he pointed out where she was. I found her at table with six or seven country cousins. As I was hungry, I was glad to take pot-luck with them.

With some difficulty I afterwards got my contract signed, and started back for Paris. On my way to Meaux Station I met the manager of the Grand Opera driving over towards Varreds.

I afterwards secured a tenor of the name of Prevost, who had a phenomenal voice, and was then singing with success at the Theatre du Chateau d'Eau. He seemed especially adapted to the _role_ of "Arnold"

in _William Tell_. After signing with him I left for Italy, where I ordered new and magnificent costumes, including enough for an extra chorus of 90 male voices which I afterwards employed for the Gathering of the Cantons in Rossini's masterpiece.

From there I went to Parma, where the eminent _scenografo_ of the theatre, with some persuasion, undertook to paint the scenery, which on its arrival in New York was p.r.o.nounced by all connoisseurs simply superb.

About this time the director of the Leipsic State Theatre proposed the production of Wagner's _Ring des Nibelungen_ at Her Majesty's Theatre, with a very powerful cast of characters and a magnificent orchestra under the direction of Richter, the great master himself to superintend personally its production. But of this "more anon."