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 entitled _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 assigned to Ravelli the
tenor, and Galassi 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 assertion 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 passionately 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 assured 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 recumbent 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
passive 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 passionate, Galassi, his associate, 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
Galassi's promptitude 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 grass 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 attitude 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, Galassi, 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
curé, 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 Prévost, who had a
phenomenal voice, and was then singing with success at the Théâtre du
Château d'Eau. He seemed especially adapted to the _rôle_ 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 pronounced 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."
Mdlle. Vachot duly appeared in the early part of November as "Rosina" in
_Il Barbiere di Siviglia_. The house was crowded in every part, and
Vachot was found to have a charming personality, a beautiful voice with
a good method, together with no little dramatic talent. She was warmly
received for her pretty appearance, and heartily applauded at frequent
intervals for her delightful singing. From a good beginning she went on
to a gratifying success, fairly establishing herself before the evening
was over in the favour of her new public.
Things were progressing favourably when about this time Mdme. Adelina
Patti arrived in New York on a speculation of her own, after an absence
of some 22 years. A great deal of excitement was thereby created, and as
Mdme. Patti's concerts were to take place within three doors of the
Academy of Music, I began to fear as to the results of my season then
progressing. Mdme. Patti's visit, however, turned out to be a most
ill-advised one. Her concerts had not been properly announced, and she
came with a very weak Company, believing that the magical name of Patti
would alone crowd the hall. Her first concert realized scarcely 3,000
dollars, whilst the second dropped down to 1,000 only. Few people went
to see her, and she at once understood what a mistake had been made. The
charge, moreover, she demanded was ten dollars per seat! The public,
therefore, universally agreed to stay away. The paltry receipts of the
second concert proved conclusively to Patti's manager, and to herself as
well, that something had to be done to lift the sinking enterprise.
I may mention that I gave a gentle hint to Patti that her removal to the
Academy would be most desirable by sending her a bouquet which cost some
£30, with these words on it: "To Adelina Patti, Queen of the Lyric
Stage." Two days afterwards I called to see _la Diva_ at the Fifth
Avenue Hotel, and after some negotiation was on the point of concluding
arrangements which would have been a fortune to me as well as to Mdme.
Patti herself, when at this critical moment Mr. Abbey came between us,
offering her a concert tour in which, beyond receiving a fixed salary,
she was to participate in his profits.
Abbey's admirable handling of Bernhardt being fresh in everyone's
recollection, Patti had no reason to suppose that he would fail in her
case to obtain similar results.
During my season at the Academy the production of Rossini's _chef
d'oeuvre_, _Guillaume Tell_, made a prodigious success, and crowded
the theatre nightly. The tenor Prévost possessed the voice of
exceptional quality necessary for the difficult _rôle_ of "Arnoldo."
Signor Galassi's "Tell" was a noble impersonation, marked by great
dignity of action, and sung in the broad and grand style of which he is
so complete a master; whilst the part of "Mathilde" was undertaken with
success by Mdlle. Dotti, who displayed remarkable ability.
Shortly afterwards I reproduced Verdi's _Aida_, for which I discovered a
most capable soprano in the person of Mdlle. Paolina Rossini, whose
success went on increasing nightly; and who later on appeared in the
difficult _rôle_ of "Valentina" in _Les Huguenots_, at once taking a
firm hold on the public.
We were now approaching the second great Cincinnati Opera Festival. I
will, therefore, take the reader once more with me to that city.
The Opera Festival of 1882 opened on February 13th with immense success
by a grand performance of Meyerbeer's _Huguenots_, the audience, an
immense and distinguished gathering, numbering over 5,000 persons, the
representatives of the wealth, the beauty, and the culture of the city.
As early as six o'clock people began to assemble outside the Music Hall,
the scene of so many previous triumphs, and long before the commencement
of the opera every seat was occupied, and every available inch of
standing room likewise.
At a quarter to eight the opera began, a band composed of 150 selected
professors occupying the orchestra under the veteran Arditi. The opera
was a signal success, and went smoothly throughout; the grand
"Bénédiction des Poignards" being executed marvellously by a chorus
composed of 400 trained voices. The acoustic properties of the hall were
simply perfect. Even in the extreme rear of the gallery, from where the
artists on the stage appeared the size of Liliputians, the softest tones
could be distinctly heard.
At the close of the performance, however, an unfortunate accident
occurred, which deprived me of my prima donna for the remainder of my
tour.
Just as the curtain fell, when "Marcel," "Raoul," and "Valentine" were
shot by the Catholic Guards, the guns were pointed too near Mdlle.
Rossini, who got touched in the face, and was further hurt whilst
falling. She had, therefore, to be carried home.
I omitted to tell the reader that some weeks before I had succeeded in
engaging Mdme. Patti to take part in this Festival, for which I paid her
£1,600 a night, being the largest amount this invaluable lady has ever
received in the shape of salary.
She was announced to appear on the second evening of the festival in a
concert, followed by the fourth act of _Il Trovatore._ On arriving home,
flushed with the success of the opening night, but deeply concerned
about Mdlle. Rossini, whom I had just left, I received a letter from
Mdme. Patti's agent, informing me that she was suffering from a severe
cold, so that it was feared she would be unable to appear the following
evening.
I at once sought Colonel Nichols, and informed him of this, desiring him
kindly to accompany me to Mdme. Patti's with the leading physician of
the city, who found the unwelcome tidings to be perfectly true. No
alternative was left but to issue an explicit announcement to the
public, postponing Mdme. Patti's appearance until the following Thursday
afternoon at two o'clock. I therefore substituted the opera _Faust_ the
following evening, refunding their money to purchasers, or exchanging
their tickets for the night on which Mdme. Patti was to appear. This, of
course, needed a great deal of care and attention, and occupied me the
greater portion of the night on account of the vast number of tickets to
be provided for in the exchanges. I am happy to say that there was no
confusion; and the public eventually became satisfied with the
arrangement made.
On the Wednesday afternoon the opera of _Carmen_ was given, with
Campanini, Del Puente, Dotti, and Minnie Hauk in the principal
characters. In the evening _Fidelio_ was produced with a powerful cast,
and with 300 extra voices added for the celebrated Chorus of Prisoners,
the receipts reaching their maximum on that occasion.
Mdme. Patti, unfortunately, made but slow progress towards recovery, and
it was consequently decided to further postpone her appearance until the
following Saturday night, it being again necessary to inform the public
as to the cause.
Various conflicting rumours at once got into circulation as to the Patti
trouble. After it had been announced that the capricious Diva could not
sing many refused flatly to believe in the reason assigned, namely, that
she had a sore throat. Others declared that Patti was a little stubborn,
self-willed person, and had done this expressly "to spite Mapleson."
Inquiries were set about in all directions.
Newspapers sent their reporters hundreds of miles to discover the state
of Patti's health before she had quitted Detroit to come on to the
Festival. Malicious people even went so far as to say that Patti, like
Rip Van Winkle, was fond of "schnapps," on the insufficient ground that,
prior to starting, she had purchased a bottle of Mumm's "extra dry."
Even this turned out to be a mistake, for, in reply to an inquiry made,
a special despatch was received from Detroit by the _Cincinnati
Gazette_, stating that "the bills of Patti at the Detroit Hotel show
that during her entire stay in that city only two quarts of wine were
consumed, and the hotel waiters state they think Nicolini drank the most
of it. Further, the landlord stated that none of the party were
noticeably intoxicated during their stay in his hotel, showing there
could be no truth whatever in the statement that Patti was under the
influence of liquor."
An evening paper published the following:--"The explanation that Patti
caught cold whilst driving in this city is strengthened by the fact that
she at least had a good opportunity for doing so, as she was driving
most of the time during the previous day. On our reporter inquiring at
the stables, he ascertained that her carriage bill for her drive
amounted to 55 dollars." Dr. J. D. Buck, who attended her, informed the
newspaper reporter that "Mdme. Patti was undoubtedly ill of a cold, but
she was rapidly improving."
Meanwhile Dr. F. Forchheimer, physician to the College of Music, was
also sent to inspect the larynx of the prima donna, and he confirmed
what the previous doctor had said.
The ticket speculators, however, lost nothing by the affair, the city
being very famous for _matinée_ performances, and as the ladies came
forward in great numbers at five dollars apiece for the purpose of
showing their new toilettes, very few returned after once entering the
doors. Each of the audiences for _Carmen_ and _Fidelio_ numbered 8,000
people.
On Friday evening I produced Mozart's _Magic Flute_; and on Saturday a
magnificent representation with complete scenic effects was given of
_William Tell_, where again my increased chorus of 400 did very
effective work, the voices coming out with full freshness and vigour. So
good a chorus had never been heard on the operatic stage before. The
orchestra, too, particularly distinguished itself. The overture, which
musically embodies the whole opera, was given with such precision,
correctness of tempo, and delicacy of colour that it called forth at
once an encore.
On the Saturday morning a grand performance of _Lohengrin_ was given,
and in the evening Mdme. Patti was enabled to appear, the first part
being devoted to a concert, while the second was composed of the fourth
act of _Trovatore_.
As the success of the Festival kept on increasing we resolved to give an
extra performance, for which purpose an engagement was entered into with
Mdme. Patti for the following Monday, when she appeared as "Margherita"
in _Faust_.
I afterwards visited Detroit, Buffalo, Cleveland, Syracuse, and Albany,
returning to New York for the usual spring season, and there performing
_Fidelio_, _Huguenots_, _Lohengrin_, _Carmen_, _William Tell_, and
_Faust_.
In the meanwhile I had put in rehearsal Meyerbeer's _Africaine_, which
was placed on the stage at considerable expense, all the costumes,
scenery, dresses, and armour being entirely new, and the stage being
occupied by some 400 persons. The gorgeous revival of _l'Africaine_
proved an extraordinary success. The audience fairly packed the large
house nightly, the fine spectacle presented in the third and fourth acts
causing great enthusiasm. Miss Hauk undertook the part of "Selika," and
was particularly successful from a dramatic point of view, whilst Signor
Galassi and Campanini found great opportunities for the display of their
vocal abilities. The great ship scene of the third act created a perfect
furore. So anxious was I that the acting of the Indians on boarding the
ship should create a sensation, that I went to Union Square and from the
various agencies engaged some 12 or 15 actors, who were then out of
employment, and whose make-up with the tattoo marks and their realistic
fighting made such an impression that on the conclusion of the scene the
curtain had to be raised.
The grand march, too, in the fourth act created a sensation, equally
with the magnificent spectacle and the gorgeous palanquin in which
"Selika" enters accompanied by "Nelusko." I had requested Bradwell to
design for me a full-sized elephant with a palanquin on its back, in
which people were seated, the interior of the elephant being occupied
and kept firm by two stalwart policemen.
The scenery was of the most gorgeous description, specially painted for
me by Magnani, who surpassed even his previous efforts. _L'Africaine_
was repeated for five or six consecutive nights to crowded houses.
On one occasion we had to perform _L'Africaine_ on consecutive nights in
New York and Philadelphia, which entailed the removal of the whole of
the scenery and dresses, likewise the transport of the whole of the
supernumeraries, ballet, etc., numbering altogether 400 persons; and we
had, moreover, to return the same evening after the performance to New
York, in which city the work was to be repeated the following night.
The supernumeraries, with their blackened faces, and the Indians with
their tattoo marks, caused a great sensation at the railway station on
the return journey, as there was no time to think of washing them. We
only reached New York the next morning at six o'clock, when again the
early morning public were startled by the arrival of these sable gentry
under a blazing sun.
We remained in New York for further representations, when I revived
Verdi's _Ernani_, _Don Giovanni_, _Huguenots_, etc.