The flowers (you should have seen them!) were mostly what they call here
"floral tributes" (what you would call _des pièces montées_), and were
brought in by a procession of ushers and placed on the stage. I do not
mention the quantities of bouquets handed up to me!
One "floral tribute" received an ovation as it was borne up the aisle by
four men, and hauled up on to the stage by a man who came from the side
scenes. It was a harp made entirely of flowers, about six feet high. It
made quite a screen for me as I went in and out. The card of the harp was
brought to me, and I read, "H. P. Stalton, 'Asleep in Jesus,' North
Conway." I had no idea what it meant, but mama remembered that some years
ago, when she and I were traveling in the White Mountains, we stopped
overnight at the little town of North Conway. At the hotel we heard that a
lady had died, and her son was terribly grieved. There was to be a funeral
service the next morning in the parlor of the inn. I asked, "Do you think
that I might sing something?" "Of course, _any_ music would be welcome,"
was the answer. So I chose the hymn, "Asleep in Jesus," which I sang when
the time came. As there was nothing but an old piano, I preferred to sing
without accompaniment. I was very much affected, and I suppose my voice
showed my emotion, because other people were equally affected. As for the
young man, he knelt on the floor and put his hands over his face and
sobbed out loud. Poor fellow, my heart bled for him!
I sang the hymn through with difficulty. The last verse I sang
_pianissimo_ and very slowly. The silence was painful; you could have
heard a pin drop. The whole scene was very emotional, and I remember
feeling that I never wanted to go through such a thing again. The young
man had not forgotten, after all these years, either the song or the
singer. Hence the beautiful harp of flowers to thank me. I should have
liked to have seen him, to thank _him_.
There is a very sad, pathetic, and patriotic song called "Tender and True"
by a composer, Alfred Pease, which I sing. Strakosch said, "You must have
in your _répertoire_ something American." This song is about a young
soldier who takes "a knot of ribbon blue" from his ladylove, and who dies
on the battle-field with the knot of ribbon on his breast. When I sing
"the flag draped over the coffin lid" the whole audience is dissolved in
tears. The women weep openly; the men hide behind their opera-glasses and
try to blow their noses noiselessly between the verses.
I always finish with "Beware!" and Charles always accompanies me, which
pleases him very much. He thinks that American audiences are very
appreciative, because they stand up and clap and the women wave their
handkerchiefs.
I tell him they stand up because the next thing they are going to do is to
go out.