PRODUCTION OF GOUNOD'S "FAUST"--APATHY OF THE BRITISH PUBLIC--A
MANAGERIAL DEVICE--DAMASK CRUMB CLOTH AND CHINTZ HANGINGS--HEROIC
ATTITUDE OF A DYING TENOR--PRAYERS TO A PORTMANTEAU.
ON my return from Italy I set to work preparing for my grand London
season of 1863, and entered into several important engagements. About
this time I was told of an opera well worthy of my attention which was
being performed at the Théâtre Lyrique of Paris. I started to see it,
and at once decided that Gounod's _Faust_--the work in
question--possessed all the qualities necessary for a success in this
country. On inquiry I found that Mr. Thomas Chappell, the well-known
music publisher, had acquired the opera for England. The late Mr. Frank
Chappell, on the part of his brother, but acting in some measure on his
own responsibility, had bought the Faust music for reproduction in
England from M. Choudens, of Paris; and I have heard not only that he
acquired this privilege for the small sum of £40 (1,000 francs), but
moreover that he was remonstrated with on his return home for making so
poor a purchase.
The music of an opera is worth nothing until the opera itself has become
known, and Messrs. Chappell opened negotiations with Mr. Frederick Gye
for the production of _Faust_ at the Royal Italian Opera. The work,
however, had not made much impression at the Théâtre Lyrique, and Mr.
Gye, after going to Paris specially to hear it, assured his stage
manager, the late Mr. Augustus Harris, who had formed a better opinion
of Gounod's music than was entertained by his chief, that there was
nothing in it except the "Chorus of Soldiers." After due consideration
Mr. Gye refused to have anything to do with _Faust_, and the prospect of
this opera's being performed in London was not improved by the fact
that, in the Italian version, it had failed at Milan.
Meanwhile I had heard Faust at the Théâtre Lyrique, and, much struck by
the beauty of the music, felt convinced that the work had only to be
fitly presented to achieve forthwith an immense success in London. Mr.
Chappell was ready to give £200 towards the cost of its production, and
he further agreed to pay me £200 more after four representations,
besides a further payment after ten representations.
Certain that I had secured a treasure, I went to Paris and bought from
M. Choudens a copy of the score, the orchestral parts, and the right for
myself personally of performing the work whenever I might think fit in
England. I then visited Gounod, who for £100 agreed to come over and
superintend the production of what he justly declared to be his
masterpiece.
I was at that time (as indeed I always was when anything important had
to be done) my own stage manager. My orchestral conductor was Arditi;
Titiens undertook the part of "Margherita;" Giuglini that of "Faust;"
Trebelli was "Siebel;" Gassier "Mephistopheles;" and Santley
"Valentine."
Far from carrying out his agreement as to superintending the production
of the work, Gounod did not arrive in London until nearly seven o'clock
on the night of production; and all I heard from him was that he wanted
a good pit box in the centre of the house. With this, for reasons which
I will at once explain, I had no difficulty whatever in providing him.
One afternoon, a few days before the day fixed for the production of the
opera, I looked in upon Mr. Nugent at the box-office and asked how the
sale of places was going on.
"Very badly indeed," he replied.
Only thirty pounds' worth of seats had been taken.
This presaged a dismal failure, and I had set my mind upon a brilliant
success. I told Mr. Nugent in the first place that I had decided to
announce Faust for four nights in succession. He thought I must be mad,
and assured me that one night's performance would be more than enough,
and that to persist in offering to the public a work in which it took no
interest was surely a deplorable mistake.
I told him that not only should the opera be played for four nights in
succession, but that for the first three out of these four not one place
was to be sold beyond those already disposed of. That there might be no
mistake about the matter, I had all the remaining tickets for the three
nights in question collected and put away in several carpet bags, which
I took home with me that I might distribute them far and wide throughout
the Metropolis and the Metropolitan suburbs. At last, after a prodigious
outlay in envelopes, and above all postage stamps, nearly the whole mass
of tickets for the three nights had been carefully given away.
I at the same time advertised in the _Times_ that in consequence of a
death in the family, two stalls secured for the first representation of
_Faust_--the opera which was exciting so much interest that all places
for the first three representations had been bought up--could be had at
twenty-five shillings each, being but a small advance on the box-office
prices. The stalls thus liberally offered were on sale at the shop of
Mr. Phillips, the jeweller, in Cockspur Street, and I told Mr. Phillips
that if he succeeded in selling them I would present him with three for
the use of his own family. Mr. Phillips sold them three times over, and
a like success was achieved by Mr. Baxter, the stationer, also in
Cockspur Street.
Meanwhile demands had been made at the box-office for places, and when
the would-be purchasers were told that "everything had gone," they went
away and repeated it to their friends, who, in their turn, came to see
whether it was quite impossible to obtain seats for the first
performance of an opera which was now beginning to be seriously talked
about. As the day of production approached the inquiries became more and
more numerous.
"If not for the first night, there must surely be places somewhere for
the second," was the cry.
Mr. Nugent and his assistants had, however, but one answer, "Everything
had been sold, not only for the first night, but also for the two
following ones."
The first representation took place on June 11th, and the work was
received with applause, if not with enthusiasm. I had arranged for
Gounod to be recalled; and he appeared several times on the stage, much,
I think, to the annoyance of Arditi, to whom the credit of a good
_ensemble_ and a fine performance generally was justly due. The opinions
expressed by several distinguished amateurs as to the merits of Gounod's
admirable work were rather amusing. The late Lord Dudley said that the
only striking pieces in the opera were the "Old Men's Chorus" and the
"Soldiers' March;" which was going a step beyond Mr. Gye, who had seen
nothing in the work but the "Soldiers' Chorus."
Another noble lord, when I asked him what he thought of _Faust_,
replied--
"This demand is most premature. How am I to answer you until I have
talked to my friends and read the criticisms in the morning papers?"
The paucity of measured tunes in the opera--which is melodious from
beginning to end--caused many persons to say that it was wanting in
melody.
The second night _Faust_ was received more warmly than on the first, and
at each succeeding representation it gained additional favour, until
after the third performance the paying public, burning with desire to
see a work from which they had hitherto been debarred, filled the
theatre night after night. No further device was necessary for
stimulating its curiosity; and the work was now to please and delight
successive audiences by its own incontestable merit. It was given for
ten nights in succession, and was constantly repeated until the
termination of the season.
So successful was _Faust_ at Her Majesty's Theatre that Mr. Gye resolved
to produce it at once; and he succeeded in getting it out by July 2nd.
The following was the cast of the work at the Royal Italian
Opera:--"Margherita," Miolan-Carvalho (the creator of the part at the
Théâtre Lyrique); "Siebel," Nantier Didiée; "Mephistopheles," Faure;
"Valentine," Graziani; "Faust," Tamberlik.
The success of _Faust_ at the Royal Italian Opera was so great that it
enabled the manager to keep his theatre open until long beyond the
usual period. On the 15th May of the following year _Faust_ was
reproduced with Mdlle. Pauline Lucca and Signor Mario in place of Madame
Miolan-Carvalho and Signor Tamberlik. Three weeks afterwards, June 7th,
the part of "Margherita" was assumed for the first time by Adelina
Patti.
Mr. Gye, who had purchased of M. Gounod "exclusive rights" over the
work, sent to inform me that he did not wish to interfere with my
arrangements during the season already begun, but that for each
performance given at Her Majesty's Theatre he should expect in future to
be paid, and that meanwhile he had a claim against me of £800 for
performance of the work given in London and the provinces during 1863
and 1864. I, of course, resisted this extraordinary pretention on the
part of Mr. Gye; for, as the reader has already been informed, I had,
before producing _Faust_, purchased from the Paris publishers the right
of performing it wherever I personally might think fit. Mr. Gye brought
his action, of which the result was to establish the fact, painful
enough for M. Gounod, that, owing to some defect in regard to
registration, no exclusive rights of performance could be secured for
_Faust_ in England by anyone.
After the close of the season of 1863 I made a concert tour in the
autumn, a recital of _Faust_ being the chief attraction. The company
comprised Mdlle. Titiens, Mdme. Trebelli, Mdlle. Volpini, Signor
Bettini--who had just married Trebelli--and Signor Volpini. After we had
been out about two or three weeks Signor Volpini became very ill, and
whilst at Birmingham sent for a leading physician, who, on examining
him, said he would require a deal of attention, but that he hoped to
bring him round in about a couple of weeks. The patient replied that on
no account would he separate himself from his wife, who had to travel to
some fresh city daily, but that the doctor must do what he could for him
until he left the following morning with the Company. This he insisted
upon doing.
From Birmingham we went to Bristol, and on arriving the sick tenor was
at once put to bed and the leading physician sent for, who, on examining
him, asked who had been attending him. On the name of the Birmingham
physician being mentioned, the Bristol physician rejoined: "A very able
man. One of the very first in the profession." The patient had been in
good hands.
But on seeing the last prescription the doctor was astonished that his
predecessor should have written such a thing; in fact, he could scarcely
believe it, and it was fortunate for the patient he had left Birmingham
and come to place himself under his care.
The patient informed the physician that on no account could he part from
his wife, and that he would have to move off with the Company the
following morning to Exeter.
From Exeter we went to Plymouth, from Plymouth to Bath, from Bath to
Oxford, and so on during a space of some two or three weeks, the sick
tenor being carried from the hotel to the railway and from the railway
to the hotel, and each medical man of eminence making the same
observations with regard to his esteemed colleague in the previous town;
each one exclaiming that had Volpini remained in the previous city he
must have died. He was carried to London, and there he remained, as all
thought, on his death-bed, at the Hôtel Previtali, Panton Square. He was
not yet, however, destined to die, and, as I am about to relate, it was
a miracle that saved his life.
About this time I had engaged Sims Reeves to sing the _rôle_ of "Faust"
on certain evenings at Her Majesty's Theatre, and one day received a
telegram from the eminent tenor, dated "Crewe," expressing his
astonishment that I had announced him for that evening, when the
engagement was for the following one.
I at once went off to Sims Reeves's house, and learned from the butler
that his dinner had been ordered for half-past seven o'clock. I
thereupon informed the man that the orders had been changed, and that
the dinner was to be served at twelve o'clock instead of the time
originally fixed. I ascertained that Mr. Reeves was to arrive at Euston
Station, and there met him, accompanied by Mrs. Sims Reeves.
While she was busying herself about the general arrangements, I got the
tenor to myself and told him the difficulty I was in, to which he
replied that it was quite impossible for him to sing that evening, as he
had ordered his dinner at home. I at once explained that I had postponed
it for a few hours, and that a light dinner was being prepared for him
in his dressing-room at the theatre.
The suddenness of my proposition seemed rather to amuse him, as he
laughed; and I was delighted to get a kind of half-promise from him
that, provided I mentioned the matter to his wife, he would consent.
At this moment she appeared, asking me what I was talking about to her
husband. One of us began to state what the object in view was, when she
exclaimed--
"It's all nonsense; but I can well understand. Mapleson is an
impresario, and wants to ruin you by making you sing."
She then asked me how I could possibly think of such a thing when the
chintz and the crumbcloth of his dressing-room had not been fixed?
It was the custom of Mrs. Reeves to hang the walls with new chintz and
place a fresh-mangled white damask cloth on the floor the nights her
husband sang; and on this occasion the sacred hangings had gone to the
wash.
I explained that I had provided other chintz, but to no effect. Reeves
was hurried to his brougham and driven away, his wife remarking as she
looked scornfully at me: "He's only a manager!"
It being now half-past six I was in a nice state of mind as to how I
could possibly replace the great tenor in _Faust_. Signor Bettini, it
was true, had on the concert tour sung portions of the garden scene and
the duet of the prison scene in the recital of _Faust_ which we had
given throughout the provinces. Signor Volpini, moreover--only he was on
his death bed--knew the introduction and the trio of the duel scene.
Putting all this together I decided on my course of action.
First I called on Signor Bettini, requesting him to oblige me by going
to the theatre.
I next presented myself at Volpini's hotel, when I was informed that I
must step very quietly and say but few words. On entering I was told by
the invalid in a faint whisper that it was very kind of me to call upon
him; and he wished to know whether I had really come to spend the
evening with him. I told him that I had been informed on entering that
my visit must be a short one.
He asked me again and again what could possibly be done to save his
life, as he had tried all the doctors, but in vain. I said I would give
him my advice if he would only follow it. I then assured him that he had
but one chance of recovery. He must first allow me to mix him a pint of
Château Lafite and a couple of raw eggs, beaten up with powdered sugar,
and come down with me to the theatre, where, after drinking it, if he
was to die, he could die like a man before the footlights.
A faint smile came over his pallid countenance. Of course he thought I
was joking. But in due course the Château Lafite appeared, and the eggs
were beaten up, and I managed to make him swallow the stimulating
beverage. I put him on his flannel dressing-gown, took the blankets off
the bed, and, wrapping him up in them, carried him myself in a
four-wheeler down to the theatre.
I explained to him that he would have very little to do, beginning
simply with the few bars of the introduction; after that nothing but the
music he had been in the habit of singing on the concert tour. I
explained to him that although "Mephistopheles," the Prince of Darkness,
would in the eyes of the public transform him from an old man into a
young one, there would be no difficulty about this inasmuch as Bettini
would continue the part. Later on he could sing the trio in the duel
scene, where with his lovely voice a great effect would be produced.
The long and short of it was I induced him to dress; and all now seemed
in good order. I explained the matter to Titiens, Trebelli, and Arditi;
and as I had not touched a particle of food since nine o'clock that
morning, I went next door to Epitaux's, where I ordered a very small
repast, pending the commencement of the opera.
I had hardly seated myself at the table when my servant rushed in,
stating that there was a general row going on amongst the artists, and
that they were all going home. The doors of the theatre had been opened,
and the apology for the absence of Sims Reeves, which I had posted on
the outer doors, had been accepted by the public. This was evident from
the fact that over £650 of money was now in the house. The audience must
be already a little irritated by the disappointment, and I knew that any
further one might be attended with serious consequences. I believed that
there would be a riot unless the representation took place.
On entering the stage-door I met Mdlle. Titiens, who was about to step
into her carriage, going home. She told me it was useless to think of
performing. This was at ten minutes past eight. I begged her to remain.
I gave orders to the hall-keeper not to let anyone out of the place, and
to get two policemen to assist him. I then crossed the stage to the
dressing-room, where high words were going on--first between the two
tenors, and afterwards between their two pretty wives. Mdme. Volpini's
voice was uppermost, and I heard her say to Trebelli--
"Of course you will rejoice! My poor sick husband brought out at the
risk of his life, and then simply to undertake an old man's part, with
grey hair and beard concealing his beauty; whilst your husband is to
come on and make all the love in the garden scene, and get all the
applause."
Mdme. Trebelli responded by snapping her fingers at Mdme. Volpini, and
taking her husband, despite my entreaties, from the theatre. All this
excitement tended to work Volpini up; and, like a true artist, he said
he would do his best--even if he had to walk through the scenes in which
he was unacquainted with the music--rather than let me be disappointed.
It was now half-past eight, and the opera was on the point of
commencing. This I had ordered should be done punctually. Meanwhile I
had followed Mdme. Trebelli to her apartments in Regent Street. The
excitement had made her quite ill, and she was totally unable to appear
in consequence. I appealed forcibly to her husband, begging him if he
would not sing "Faust" to help me by taking the part of "Siebel." He was
a very good musician, and as at this time he never quitted his wife's
side I knew that he must be intimately acquainted with the music. I
thereupon got him down to the theatre in time for the garden scene, had
his moustache taken off, and put him into his wife's clothes. Everything
went off brilliantly, the male "Siebel" and the dying "Faust" sharing
with the admirable "Margherita" the applause of the evening.
The sudden exertion, the unwonted excitement, had really the effect of
saving Volpini's life; and he lived happily for many years afterwards.
During the worst stage of poor Volpini's illness, when, as already set
forth, he persisted in being moved from town to town, wherever his
charming wife had to go, they were both astonished one night to find
that their little girl, a child of three or four years of age, had got
out of bed, and apparently was praying to a large travelling trunk which
accompanied them on all their journeys. Kneeling before the huge box,
the little thing was heard to say: "And make my dear papa well again, or
I will believe in you no more."
The explanation of this touching mystery was that the little girl had
been in the habit of saying her prayers before an image of the Holy
Virgin, which the family carried with them from town to town. The image,
or picture, was now enclosed within the travelling trunk which had not
yet been unpacked, and the affectionate child addressed it where she
knew it to be.