GEESE AND GUESTS
I was on the whole very happy in Darmstadt. All the leading contralto
work came to me by right, and it was brightened by an occasional role in
operetta. They found they could use me for smart ladies in such things
as "Dollar Prinzessin," and I greatly enjoyed the dancing and gaiety of
those performances. We had many operas in the repertoire that are seldom
or never heard of in this country, "Evangelimann," "Hans Heiling,"
"Sieben Schwaben," all the Lortzings, "Undine," "Wildschuetz," "Zar und
Zimmermann," "Weisse Dame," etc. Such things as "Fra Diavolo," and
"Lustige Weiber," were always delightful to play.
We gave "Koenigskinder" the first year it was brought out in Germany.
Our clever Kempin designed charming sets for it, lit in the modern way,
and the soprano, though a plain little thing, had a heavenly sympathetic
voice, with a floating quality most appealing in the high part. During
the _Premiere_ at the end of the last act, just as we were taking our
calls from an enthusiastic public, a strange bearded man stepped out of
the wings and joined us. Humperdinck, of course, whom I recognized in a
minute from his photos. He said nothing to any of us, and we often
speculated as to why he did not. He must have been pleased with the
production, or he would not have shown himself; indeed we heard he was
pleased, but no word was vouchsafed us.
For our geese we had grey Pomeranian beauties and immense white birds
from Italy. The Italians, besides being bigger were more numerous; they
saw their opportunity to bully the Teutons within an inch of their
lives, and they took it. There was a tank of real water on the stage, in
which they loved to splash, but do you suppose a German goose was ever
allowed to go near it? Ominous hisses kept them away, and they hated
hissing as all actors do. The foreigners gobbled up all the food, before
the others could get it, and the only time that there was any unanimity
among them was when they were doing something they should not. One night
the largest Italian stepped into a depression near the footlights,
caught his foot, squawked loudly and passed on. The second largest
immediately followed suit; there were eleven of them, and they all in
turn caught a foot, squawked and waddled on, to the great delight of
the audience. It was agonizing for us on the stage, waiting for each
squawk.
Animals were always a trial to the performers, though considered to lend
a sure magnificence from the manager's point of view. We used to have a
pack of hounds in the first act finale of "Tannhaeuser." They always
behaved beautifully and were allowed to run without leashes. One night,
however, our little round _Souffleuse_, as the prompter is called, named
"Bobberle" by the tenor as she was as broad as she was long, had taken
her bread and sausages into her tiny pen. The dogs suddenly winded this,
made a dive for the _Souffler Kasten_ (prompter's box), scratched out
the package, devoured the contents and then politely left their cards on
the box; poor Bobberle in helpless rage prompting the while. Since that
night the dogs have been chained two and two.
We often had famous guests. Edith Walker sang several times with us, and
Knote quite as often. Schumann-Heink, a great friend of the Grand Duke's
(she told me she would go through fire for him), sang _Azucena_. She had
always been my girlhood's idol, and my ideal of an artist, so I embraced
the opportunity to send her a wreath. They said she was much pleased by
the attention from a contralto! She used some of my _Schmink_ to make up
with, and I proudly have the stubs to this day. She made us all laugh
in rehearsal. When she says in the last act that they will find only a
skeleton when they come to drag her from her prison, she passed her
hands over her ample contours and emitted a spontaneous chuckle that was
irresistibly infectious. Bahr Mildenburg came to us also and revealed to
me what _Ortrud_ might be. Especially in the first act is she
overwhelming. In playing the part later I always felt her influence, and
many things I do in that act were inspired by thoughts she gave me.
Watch most _Ortruds_ in that scene. They simply stand in what they
consider mantled inscrutability, trying to portray evil in a heavy,
unsubtle manner; and then see Bahr Mildenburg, if you can. All the
really great people I have ever met are unpretentious and absolutely
charming to work with. Only the near-great seem to consider it necessary
to remind you all the time that they are other than you. The greater the
man the simpler his manner, I have always found, and I think many will
agree with me.
There was an excellent store of men's costumes to call on; beautiful
embroidered coats and waistcoats from the eighteenth century, real
uniforms of many regiments of bygone days, and the best Wagnerian
barbaric stuff I have ever seen, with the exception of van Rooy's.
One of the principal men singers was a tall dark fellow, with a most
passionate disposition. We played together often and he fell very much
in love with me. One day when we were all together at a wood coffee
house, his wife asked him how he had broken his watch which she found
smashed on the floor one morning. He said he had dropped it while
reading the night before, but he told me he had been sitting thinking of
me long after his wife had retired, and suddenly saw his watch shattered
in a thousand pieces on the floor across the room, where he had hurled
it. He was devoted to his little son, a charming sunny little chap, with
the dark colouring of his mother.
When I think of these good comrades of mine I cannot but wonder what the
war has done to them. The Hun element seemed to be in very few of them,
but I can remember it in one. This impossible person, frightfully
conceited, lacking absolutely in humour, annoyed and goaded me through
two long years with his boorish manners, low ideas of American life,
loudly expressed, and crass ignorance of all ideals of living. I came to
rehearsal one day and found the colleagues assembled in the green room
looking very grave over something. This man H---- said "Ah, here she
is!" Then he proceeded to hand round to every one a clipping, which
seemed to hurt and annoy them all. He would not show it to me,
insinuating that I knew all about it. This I stood for an hour and a
half; finally I insisted on seeing the clipping which was from the
leading paper of a neighbouring city. The critic reviewed a _premiere_
we had just given, slating every one but myself, and saying that I
belonged on the world-stage. This had been sufficient grounds for my
persecutor to explain the bad criticisms of my other colleagues to them,
by telling them that I had an affair with this to me of course, utterly
unknown, unheard of critic. When I realized just what he meant, I saw
black, seized a property crook stick that lay on the table, and struck
him violently on the arm. I then came to, and rushed to the window to
cool off. He took the blow without a word, and when I finally turned
back from the window ready in a revulsion of feeling to tell him that I
was sorry to have hurt him, I found the others all smiling broadly, in
relief that I had cleared the matter up. Of course none of them had
believed for a second what he had tried to make them believe.
We gave the whole of Goethe's "Faust" in four evenings. We had Lassens'
music and I sang two angels and an archangel, a sphinx and a siren
during the performances. The mechanical part of the production with its
flying witches, flying swings for _Faust_ and the devil, traps, dark
changes, built-up effects reaching from the footlights to almost the top
of the proscenium arch at the back of the stage, and a thousand and one
details were managed without a hitch.
"Butterfly" we gave for the first time while I was there, and the Grand
Duke took a great interest in the performance. He sent down some
beautiful kimonos from his private collection for the _Butterfly_ to
wear, but paid me the compliment of letting me get my own. I had
searched costumers and Japanese shops in vain, in London, Paris and
Berlin, for a plain coloured kimono such as servants wear, and finally
got one direct from Japan. The _Suzukis_ I have always seen have been
attired like second editions of _Butterfly_ not realizing in the least
the value of the contrast to them if they look like a real servant. I
have had letters from people who knew the East intimately, who have said
very flattering things about my portrayal of the manner of a Japanese,
after they have seen my performance, in company with real Japanese.
This, considering my height, has always pleased me immensely. If you can
feel in a vast audience that even one person knows, understands and
appreciates the study you have put upon a role to make it true to life,
you are rewarded for your pains.