CAMILLE D'ARVILLE
Camille D'Arville, like Lillian Russell, Pauline Hall, and Jessie
Bartlett Davis, is one of the old guard, in American light opera. She
has not appeared in opera for some time, for during the season of
1899-1900 she followed the general inclination and went into vaudeville.
From these appearances it was apparent that her voice was not what it
had been once--and little wonder that it had failed, when one recalls
how continuously that voice has been in use since the owner left her
Dutch home, forswore her own name of Neeltye Dykstra, and first learned
to talk a prettily accentuated English. She still had in full the power
to win an audience instantly and completely. Nor had she lost to any
perceptible degree her rare good looks. A little fuller in the figure,
perhaps, than she was five years ago, she carried herself with the same
fine grace and perfect poise which were of themselves an art.
Camille D'Arville has temperament, and she has style. It is these two
qualities particularly that have brought her success so often in dashing
cavalier parts, parts which require that a woman shall act either a man
or a woman masquerading as a man. The modern comic opera librettist
often has but one main purpose in mind, that is, to get his prima donna
in tights as soon after the show begins as possible and keep her in them
as long as practical. Indeed, if one were looking for a practical way to
distinguish modern comic opera from extravaganza, he might find it in
this matter of tights. If the leading woman represent a woman disguised
as a man, she is an operatic prima donna; if, on the contrary, she be
represented as a man from start to finish, she is merely principal
"boy" in extravaganza.
I suppose this tendency toward tights, which is so common as to be
almost a light-opera conventionality, is an outgrowth or heritage from
the old-fashioned burlesque. In fact, the difference between the modern
comic opera and the burlesque of thirty years ago is purely one of
degree. The relation between the two is similar to that between the
variety show of eight years ago and the so-called "fashionable
vaudeville" of to-day. Variety has been put through what managers of the
large circuits call a refining process. There is no denying that the
old-style variety show in most of its components was crude, noisy, and
vulgar, and that its surroundings were scarcely favorable to the
development of high art. But one was always sure of finding vigor and
life--plenty of both--in the old-time varieties, and there were
oftentimes spontaneity and humor--rude and bucolic, perhaps, but real,
just the same--which one is not sure of meeting in the latter-day
entertainments so carefully prepared for the mentally delicate and
sensitive.
Modern comic opera has adopted in a modified and refined form the chief
characteristics--one of them the woman in tights and another of them the
clown with his perfunctory low comedy--of the old-fashioned burlesque.
Of course, the opera makes more pretensions than did the burlesque, and
musically it is superficially superior, not necessarily more tuneful but
orchestrated with more scholarly skill. Stage pageantry to-day is also
much further developed, and spectacular effects are far more elaborate.
The costuming is richer and more tasteful, and the women on the
stage--if not actually younger and prettier--are certainly daintier and
more feminine. The girlishness and natural beauty of many modern
light-opera choruses are simply amazing.
If we look beneath these externals, however, we find that the comic
opera of to-day is hardly an advance over the burlesque of yesterday.
There was good stuff in most of the old burlesques. They had original
ideas, plenty of simple dramatic action, and some genuine comedy, but it
is seldom that one finds any of these three essentials in the book of
the modern comic opera. Not for ten years, I am tempted to declare, has
there been written a light-opera libretto with sufficient intrinsic
merit to attract the public attention without the assistance of the most
magnetic personalities surrounded and set forth by the most gorgeous of
stage accessories.
Camille D'Arville's cavaliers--and in recent years she has not
played a part that did not require male attire--are a direct heritage
from the burlesque stage. When Camille D'Arville becomes a man, she
makes the change from petticoats without the slightest show of
self-consciousness. I heard her once termed the most modest woman in
tights on the stage. That was simply an acknowledgment of her complete
effacement of the personal equation. Yet her individuality was not at
all diminished, her presence was inspiring, and her acting both
vivacious and forceful.
Camille D'Arville was born in 1863 in the village of Oldmarck, Province
of Overyseel, Holland, and came of a family that had never shown any
theatrical or especial musical talent. When she was twelve years old,
her voice gave promise of developing into something more than the
ordinary, and she was sent to the Conservatory at Amsterdam for
instruction. Here she made her first appearance in concert in 1877.
Later she went to Vienna, where she received further instruction, and
also made a successful appearance in a one-act operetta.
"I was a big girl fourteen or fifteen years old before I saw other
lands than my own Holland," remarked Miss D'Arville, "and after I left
Amsterdam I was on the Continent and in England for a long time before I
returned home. I still claim Holland as my birthright, however, and I do
not want to be called anything but Dutch. If I have a trace of French
accent in speaking English, as some claim, it is not my fault.
"But, do you know," she continued, "if it were purely a matter of
inclination, I think I should much rather be an actress than to be a
singer. Of course, I love music, but what can be more gratifying than to
portray the heroines of Shakespeare and other great dramatists? But my
natural endowment as a singer led me toward the operatic career. In
opera I prefer a strong dramatic role, a part which has only one grand
song if it afford plenty of opportunity for acting.
"When did I first sing in public? Oh, I can't remember that. I appeared
in concerts in Amsterdam when I was a girl, and by the time I entered
my teens I took part in operatic performances given by the Conservatory
pupils. Do you mean when did I make my real debut in opera? I suppose
that might be said to have occurred in March, 1883, at the Strand
Theatre, London, in an operetta entitled 'Cymbria, or the Magic
Thimble.'"
Before this, however, Miss D'Arville had anything but a pleasant
experience in London. She went there under the supposition that she had
been engaged to sing in opera. The managerial promise she found to be
worthless, and she had to be satisfied with a chance to earn a little
money in a music hall. It was after several months of the most
uncongenial toil that she finally gained recognition in "Cymbria."
"Harry Paulton was responsible for that appearance," continued Miss
D'Arville. "He heard me sing, and under his tuition I learned the words
of the opera and sung them before I understood their meaning. It was
not long, however, before I could speak English fairly well. The Dutch,
you know, are famous linguists.
"In October of the same year I created the part of Gabrielle Chevrette
in 'La Vie,' an adaptation by H. B. Farnie of Offenbach's 'La Vie
Parisienne.' The critics spoke very kindly of me then, but were much
more generous in their praises when during the following spring I
appeared as Fredegonda in a revival of M. Herve's 'Chilperic' given at
the Empire Theatre. Perhaps chief among my early successes was in 'Rip
Van Winkle.' I succeeded Miss Sadie Martinot in the leading soprano
part, and sang it until the end of the opera's long run. Fred Leslie was
the Rip Van Winkle, and very fine he was, too. It was a pity he
afterward became so thoroughly identified with burlesque."
It was at the time of her first appearance in opera in England that the
singer adopted the name of Camille D'Arville. It was chosen for euphony
only, and had no significance whatever.
After her success in "Rip Van Winkle" Miss D'Arville toured the English
province with "Falka," and in 1887 returned to London to play in
"Mynheer Jan." This was followed by an engagement at the Gaiety Theatre,
and her position in London seemed established, when a quarrel with the
management caused her to break her contract and she appeared at another
theatre in the title role of "Babette."
Miss D'Arville first came to this country in the spring of 1888, being
under engagement to J. C. Duff; and her first appearance here was made
in New York in April in "The Queen's Mate" in the cast with Lillian
Russell. In the fall Miss D'Arville returned to London, where she
appeared in "Carina," in which piece her charming archness was a
feature. The Carl Rosa Company then engaged her to take the part of
Yvonne in "Paul Jones," in which Agnes Huntington as the hero had taken
the city by storm. With the same company she also created the title role
in "Marjorie," which also enjoyed a long run. During the summer of 1889
Miss D'Arville became connected with the New York Casino, appearing in
"La Fille de Madame Angot," "The Grand Duchess," and "Poor Jonathan."
Back to London she hied herself once more, and for a time was heard at
the Trocadero and Pavillon. Then she returned to the United States, and
joined the Bostonians, with whom she sang Arline in "The Bohemian Girl,"
Maid Marion in "Robin Hood," and Katherine in a revival of "The
Mascotte." She was probably the most satisfactory Maid Marion, all
things considered, that ever sang the part. Certainly she was better as
an actress than Marie Stone, who had previously taken the role, and she
was physically better fitted to the character than Alice Nielsen.
Critics, who up to that time had not been entirely satisfied with Miss
D'Arville, claiming that her vocal method was bad and her acting
oftentimes crude and meaningless, found her work in "Robin Hood" very
much to their taste.
"As a singer she has improved during the past year," said one. "Her
tones are purer; she uses her voice with more discretion; and she has
discovered that a scream is not synonymous with forte. She is vivacious;
she lends a dramatic interest that has been sadly lacking in former
performances of this company, when the members were too apt to mistake
the audience for a congregation and the stage for a choir loft. She is
fair to look upon, and yet she does not strive to monopolize attention."
After quitting the Bostonians Miss D'Arville starred in Edward E. Rice's
spectacular production of the extravaganza "Venus," which was first
acted in Boston in September, 1893. Her dashing Prince Kam, that
imaginary Thibetian potentate, who, finding no earthly beauty that
satisfied his ideal, journeyed to Mars, where he succeeded in winning
the love of Venus herself, was a thoroughly delightful characterization.
"A Daughter of the Revolution," with which Miss D'Arville was next
identified, was made over by J. Cheever Goodwin and Ludwig Englaender
from a comic opera called "1776," produced some ten years before by a
German company playing at the Thalia Theatre in New York. It achieved
but limited popularity at that time, but in its revised form it was an
agreeable, if not exactly exciting, entertainment. It was not an ideal
comic opera, by any means. Too much of the machinery of construction was
left visible for that. There were two characters, the dealer in military
supplies and the laundress, so obviously dragged in simply because the
low-comedy man needed a foil and a soubrette to play opposite to him,
that one looked to see the marks of violence on their ears. But
librettos are hard things to write--they must be or we should
certainly find one now and then that is above reproach--so one would
fain overlook jarring circumstances for the sake of the tuneful melodies
of the score and the brisk action. Miss D'Arville sang well, and made an
attractive picture in her series of becoming costumes.
A starring tour in "Madeleine; or the Magic Kiss," a comic opera of
considerable merit although it never won more than a fair degree of
popularity, was her next venture, and then she was engaged to create the
prima donna role of Lady Constance in "The Highwayman," a Reginald
DeKoven and Harry B. Smith composition. A quarrel with the management
while rehearsals were in progress caused her to retire from the company,
however, and her place was taken by Hilda Clark.