PRIMA DONNAS OF THE FIFTIES.
The years immediately following 1850 were rather barren of stars of the
first magnitude in the line of sopranos, although Stockhausen, Faure,
Wachtel, and Nicolini all belong to that period, besides Adelaide
Phillips, the contralto.
The chief soprano of the year 1851 was Madame Nantier-Didier, a native
of the Isle of Bourbon, who had a somewhat successful career in the
chief cities of Europe, but who was considered "a first-rate singer of
the second class." She had a gay, handsome face, a winning mezzo-soprano
voice, and neat execution.
In the following year appeared two singers of high rank, Maria
Piccolomini, and Euphrosine Parepa, more generally known as Madame
Parepa-Rosa.
Piccolomini owed her success chiefly to her clever acting, and her
charming little figure. Her voice was weak and limited, and she was not
sure in her intonation, nor did she excel in execution. She visited the
United States in 1858, and was well received. Her stage career was not
very long, for she retired in 1863, and married the Marchese Gaetani.
Parepa-Rosa was born in Scotland, at Edinburgh. Her father was a
Wallachian boyard, and her mother (Elizabeth Seguin) a singer of some
repute. Parepa's full name was Euphrosine Parepa de Boyesku. She was a
well-educated woman, speaking and writing several languages correctly,
and she had a voice of great power and sweetness, with a range of two
and a half octaves. She was, also, a woman of fine figure and imposing
stage presence. Her reputation was gained, however, more in concert and
oratorio than in opera, but her memory will remain in America as that of
one who did much towards the cultivation of the public taste for opera.
In 1865 she came to America on a tour with Mr. Carl Rosa, whom she
married in 1867, her first husband, Captain De Wolfe Carvell, having
died in 1865. After this they remained for four years, during which time
they organized the Carl Rosa Opera Company, for the performance of
English and Italian opera. Madame Parepa-Rosa was the principal singer,
and the company met with great success, singing not only in opera, but
also in oratorio and concerts. In 1871 they went to Cairo, Egypt, on
account of Carl Rosa's health, but they returned to America before
winter, bringing with them Wachtel, the German tenor, and Santley, the
English baritone.
In 1873 they again returned to Europe, but Madame Rosa was soon
afterwards seized with an illness which terminated in her death in
January, 1874. The Carl Rosa Opera Company, which was thus established,
remained in existence until recently, and has been a successful company,
always employing several singers of high rank. In 1898, owing to a
declining business, it was decided to wind the company up, or reorganize
it, and meetings were held to decide the matter.
The star of 1856 was Madame Peschka-Leutner, who sang in 1872 at the
Jubilee festival in Boston. Although she had appeared in London, she was
but little known outside of her own country, where she was very popular.
She died at Wiesbaden in 1890.
Before 1860 the French stage also produced two singers of high rank. In
1858 Madame Artot made her debut at the Paris Opera, though she had
already been heard in concerts in Belgium, Holland, and England. She was
the daughter of the horn professor at the Brussels Conservatoire, and
was taught singing by Madame Viardot-Garcia. Her engagement at Paris was
due to Meyerbeer, and her success was such as to draw praise even from
the extremely critical Berlioz. In the following year she took to
Italian opera, and for many years was well known throughout Europe.
Marguerite Josephine Desiree Montaigny Artot, for such was her name in
full, was born in 1835, and in 1869 she married a well-known Spanish
tenor, Padilla-y-Ramos. Together they sang in most of the great European
cities until their retirement. As late as 1887 they sang in Berlin, in
which city Madame Artot settled as a teacher of singing.
Madame Galli-Marie, whose celebrity as Mignon and Carmen is world-wide,
was the daughter of an opera singer, Mecene Marie de l'Isle. She made
her debut at Strasburg in 1859, and about the same time married a
sculptor named Galli, who died in 1861. Madame Galli-Marie's dramatic
talent was great, and she has succeeded in characters of entirely
opposite nature. Her voice was not remarkable; but, like many of the
most renowned artists of the century, her originality and artistic
temperament were sufficient to place her in the first rank.
When "Carmen" was produced, and Madame Galli-Marie was chosen for the
title role, Bizet re-wrote the part to suit her voice, which was of
limited range, having neither the low notes of a contralto nor the high
ones of the soprano. She was, however, owing to her dramatic
capabilities, not only the first but one of the best Carmens seen until
the time of Calve.
In 1859 there arose from the opposite ends of the earth, two stars of
the first magnitude, whose brilliancy was sufficient to silence the
complaints of those who declared that the art of singing was a lost art.
Such wails have arisen from time to time ever since opera was
established, and possibly they may have existed in some form previous to
that time, but up to the present date there is good evidence that the
art of singing flourishes. It is human nature to declare that things of
the past were superior to those of the present, and in their day
Cuzzoni, Gabrielli, Catalani, Pasta, Grisi, and Jenny Lind, besides a
number of others, were all such singers "as had never before been
heard."
Between Pauline Lucca and Adelina Patti there was a wide difference, and
yet both singers triumphed in the same parts.
Lucca made her debut at Olmutz as Elvira in "Ernani," Patti first
appeared in New York as Lucia. Both Lucca and Patti made their debut at
the age of sixteen, though some authorities state that Lucca was born in
1841; and both singers followed in matrimony the conventional course of
the prima donna, and married twice.
Pauline Lucca was born in Vienna, her father being an Italian merchant
in comfortable circumstances. Pauline's high musical gifts attracted
attention early, but her father objected to the idea of educating her
for the stage. When she was about thirteen years old business reverses
caused him to change his mind, and Pauline was placed under the best
available teachers.
In due course an engagement was secured for her at Olmutz, and she at
once became a favorite. For four months she sang at a salary of sixty
florins a month, and then she was engaged at Prague at five hundred
florins a month. Her next engagement was at Berlin at one thousand
thalers a month.
Her popularity at Olmutz was so great that before she left that place
she was honored by the inhabitants with a musical serenade and
torchlight procession.
It happened that about this time Meyerbeer, the composer, was casting
his eye over the operatic world for a singer to whom he felt that he
could entrust the creation of the part of Selika in his yet unpublished
"L'Africaine." He heard of Lucca, and when she was singing at Prague he
came over from Berlin on purpose to hear her. So pleased was he with her
performance that after the opera he desired to be presented to her, and
on being taken to her room, he rushed up to her and kissed her
vehemently on both cheeks, much to the surprise and embarrassment of the
young lady, who had no idea as to his identity. A modern prima donna,
not long ago, experienced a similar burst of enthusiasm from an unknown
elderly gentleman who also shed tears. After he had gone, and she had
recovered from her surprise, she missed a very valuable piece of
jewelry. It is only proper, therefore, for all composers intending to
make a demonstration to send word before-hand. On the following day
Meyerbeer called at her hotel and offered Mlle. Lucca an engagement at
Berlin, which she accepted, and which took effect at the end of her
Prague engagement, eight months later.
During these eight months Lucca received a proposal of marriage from the
young Prince Lobkowitz, who had fallen desperately in love with her; but
she did not listen to his appeals, and the unfortunate prince was
rejected. Some time after this event, which was so mortifying as to
probably affect his disposition, he sought and found death on the field
of honor, becoming involved in a duel.
Lucca now went to Berlin. Meyerbeer took her under his own immediate
charge, and she appeared in three of his greatest characters, Alice in
"Roberto," Bertha in "Il Prophete," and Vielka in the "Camp of Silesia."
She was in her eighteenth year, and her beauty both of person and voice
excited the greatest admiration and drove the Berlin public wild with
rapture. Under Meyerbeer's supervision she gained splendid triumphs and
was appointed court singer for life.
During this time of triumph in Berlin she was visited by Adelina Patti,
whose fame was also spreading over Europe; in fact, if one may judge by
financial results, Patti's star was much higher in the heavens than that
of Lucca, for whereas Lucca was receiving one thousand thalers a month,
Patti was being paid one thousand francs a night. Lucca was living in
apartments on a fourth floor, in quite an unconventional style, and was
in bed when Patti called. Nevertheless, she received her visitor, and
Strakosch, her manager, with many signs of unaffected pleasure, and they
became firm friends, their rivalry being confined to the stage.
Lucca's progress to fame was now very rapid. She appeared in London in
1863 and 1864, making a remarkable impression. In 1865 Meyerbeer's
"L'Africaine" was to be produced in Paris, and he was anxious that Lucca
should sing the part of Selika, but this was impossible without the
consent of the King of Prussia, and as he was opposed to her singing in
Paris at that time, he would not give the necessary consent. Meyerbeer
felt so strongly on the subject that he added a codicil to his will
stating that, if Pauline Lucca was engaged to sing Selika at the Opera
House in Berlin, the work might be sung there in German,--otherwise, he
forbade its production. "L'Africaine" was produced in Paris on April 28,
1865; but Meyerbeer never witnessed its performance in public, for he
was seized with illness on April 23d of that year, and died on May 2d.
In London this opera was produced on July 22d, and Lucca sang the part
for which Meyerbeer had selected her, as she also did at Berlin. Her
performance in London is on record as one of the very highest
achievements in the lyrical drama. In Berlin she created a perfect
furore, singing in a company which introduced Wachtel and Betz. While
the performance was in progress, the house and even the carriage of the
young prima donna were decorated with the rarest and most beautiful
flowers, and with such profusion that she was hardly able to recognize
her home.
The Czar of Russia now wished to hear this incomparable singer, so he
sent a polite message to the King of Prussia, requesting that she be
allowed to sing at St. Petersburg, and offering her a salary of eighty
thousand rubles for the season of four months. The King of Prussia had
not the same scruples concerning Russia that he had about France, so his
gracious consent was given, as it was, also, on the following season.
Lucca made an immense impression at St. Petersburg, where at the end of
the season she was serenaded by the band of the Imperial Guards. The
streets were illuminated from the theatre to her house at the orders of
the Crown Princess Dagmar, the Empress gave her a priceless and
beautiful pair of diamond earrings, the public, through the leader of
the orchestra, presented her with a splendid diadem covered with
precious stones, and the members of the orchestra subscribed and made
her a present of a laurel wreath in gold. But the greatest demonstration
in her honor occurred when she organized a concert for the benefit of
indigent students, the receipts of which exceeded ten thousand rubles.
Then she was called forward thirty times, and the students unharnessed
her horses and dragged her carriage home. They seized her shawl and tore
it into fragments for mementos, and she also had to give up her gloves
and handkerchief for the same purpose.
Similar demonstrations have taken place at different times, and in
other cities, in honor of other singers. It is quite an ordinary matter
in Russia for a singer to be called forward ten or twenty times, and
even thirty times is not by any means so extraordinary as it would be in
London or New York, or, more particularly, in Boston.
Jenny Lind lost a shawl in New York through the enthusiasm of the
public, and in 1881 Patti enjoyed the experience in Brooklyn of being
dragged home by a crowd of enthusiasts.
Perhaps Patti had the most curious demonstration in London, just before
she sailed for New York under Mapleson's management, and Mapleson is the
authority for the anecdote.
After the last performance of the season, Patti was escorted from the
theatre to the train en route for Liverpool by a procession of
theatrical people in costume, with a brass band. This was at one o'clock
in the morning. Full accounts of it were, of course, obtained somehow
by the American papers.
In 1865 Pauline Lucca had married a German military officer, Baron von
Rahden, who, when the Franco-German war broke out, went to the front,
and was severely wounded in the celebrated charge of Mars-La-Tour.
Lucca, hearing of his misfortune, made her way to the scene of the
conflict, and sought him out in the military hospital, where she
tenderly nursed him until he could be taken home. Her devotion to him
was admirable; but, unfortunately, a change in her feelings seems to
have occurred before very long, for when in 1872 she was in New York she
brought suit for divorce against the Baron, and he, being unaware of the
proceedings, made no defence, so that rightly or otherwise Madame Lucca
secured her divorce. Later on, when von Rahden forwarded papers which
were supposed to establish his innocence of the charges made against
him by his irate and jealous spouse, the case was closed, and no notice
was taken of the defence. Matters seem, however, to have arranged
themselves to the satisfaction of all concerned, for the Baron married
the young lady who had been the cause of Lucca's jealousy, and Lucca
married Baron von Wallhofen, an intimate friend of Von Rahden, who,
also, had been wounded at Mars-La-Tour, and who had followed her to
America.
Pauline Lucca was one of the few singers gifted with original genius,
and she imparted specific individuality to each of her characters, even
the most colorless. Her versatility was very great, and she had a
repertoire of fifty-six roles. Her voice was a full soprano of
sympathetic quality, and with a range of two and a half octaves,
extending to C in alt, and capable of expressing every kind of emotion.
Like Patti she was of slender figure, and at one time she played
Marguerite in "Faust" on alternate nights with her. Lucca was
essentially a lyric actress rather than a singer pure and simple, and
had the power of realizing the highest dramatic conception both of poet
and composer; she was able to draw inspiration from the abstract idea,
and she has been called "transcendentally human."
After her memorable tour in the United States, in 1872, Madame Lucca
continued before the public in Europe until 1884, since which time she
has lived in Vienna, and devoted herself chiefly to teaching.
While Lucca was thus rising to the highest pinnacles of fame, Patti also
was scoring great successes. In London she had become a permanent
favorite, and from the year 1861, in which she made her European debut,
for more than twenty years she was engaged every season at Covent
Garden.
In spite of all rivalry, she held her position there as the most popular
opera singer of modern times. She has enjoyed the same popularity on
the continent, and in America also she has been immensely popular.
[Illustration: _Patti._]
Adelina Patti's voice was one of moderate power, but great range and of
wonderful flexibility. Her production was faultless, and she was, and
is, undoubtedly, one of the greatest mistresses of vocalization of the
century. As an actress, she could not compare with many other singers,
and her greatest successes were gained in such operas as made the least
demand upon the histrionic capabilities of the performer. Her repertoire
included about thirty operas, mostly of the Italian school, though she
also sang in the operas of Meyerbeer and Gounod, and others. She was one
of the many "Carmens;" but while her interpretation vocally was
excellent, she was by no means equal dramatically to Mlle. Hauk, and
much less so to Calve, the latest and by far the greatest interpreter of
that role.
One of the most notable events of Madame Patti's career occurred when,
in 1868, at the funeral of Rossini, the composer, she sang with Madame
Alboni the beautiful duet, "Quis est Homo," from Rossini's "Stabat
Mater." On that occasion such an assembly of noted musicians and singers
was gathered together to honor the great composer as probably never
before met under the same roof. To hear that beautiful music, rendered
by two such artists over the grave of the composer, was to feel in the
truest sense the genius of Rossini, and the part that he played in the
music of the nineteenth century.
The name of Patti has always been associated with high prices, and not
without cause; for, although other singers have received larger sums for
isolated engagements, none have ever succeeded in maintaining such a
uniformly high rate.
When she returned to America in 1881, after an absence of some twenty
years, Patti held mistaken notions about the American people, and her
early concerts were a bitter disappointment. High prices and hackneyed
songs did not suit the public, and in order to make a success of the
tour Madame Patti was obliged to throw over her French manager, and
employ an American (Henry E. Abbey) who knew the public, and who
immediately cut the prices down to one-half. Eventually the season was
successful, both artistically and financially, her voice showing but
little sign of wear, and her execution being as brilliant as ever. At
Brooklyn the people took the horses out of her carriage, and dragged her
home,--one facetious writer remarking that he saw no reason for taking
away her horses, and substituting asses. The following clever rhyme, at
the expense of her manager, taken from "Puck," voices the opinion of the
public very neatly, in regard to Patti's tour, in 1881-2:
Patti cake, Patti cake, Franchi man!
"So I do, messieurs, comme vite as I can."
"Roulez et tournez et marquez 'with care,'
Et posez au publique a ten dollars a chair."
Farinelli is said to have made $30,000 per annum, a very large sum for
the times in which he lived. Catalani's profits ran almost to $100,000 a
season. Malibran received $95,000 for eighty-five performances at La
Scala. Jenny Lind, for ninety-five concerts, under Barnum's management,
received $208,675, all good figures. But Rubini is said to have made
$11,500 at one concert, and Tamagno is the highest-priced tenor of the
present day.
Patti at one time made a contract for a series of performances at $4,400
a night, and later on her fee was $5,000 a night, paid in advance, but
when she came to Boston in 1882, and sang in three performances given in
a week, her share of the receipts was $20,895. The attendance at the
Saturday matinee was 9,142 people, and her share of the receipts for
that performance alone was $8,395.
Madame Patti always had the advantage of excellent management. Until her
marriage with the Marquis de Caux she was under the management of her
brother-in-law, Maurice Strakosch, and so assiduous was he in his
protection of his young star from unnecessary wear and tear that he
became the subject of many jokes. It is said that he occasionally took
her place at rehearsals, that when visitors called on her they saw him
instead, and some people, with vivid imagination, declared that
Strakosch sat for Patti's photograph, and that he once offered to
receive a declaration of love for her.
One is apt to doubt the necessity of all this management, for Patti
seems to have been admirably adapted for self-defence, and even for
aggression in financial matters. An amusing anecdote is told of her by
Max Maretzek, who, one day, when she was a small child, in a moment of
generosity promised her a doll, or, as some accounts have it, some
bon-bons as a reward for singing in a concert. It was to be her very
first appearance. Patti did not forget the promise, and when it was
nearly time for her to sing she asked for her doll. Maretzek had
forgotten it, and promised that she should have it after the concert, or
the next day. But no, she must have it first, or she would not go on and
sing. The poor man was in despair. It was late and stores were all
closed, but by some means he succeeded in getting the bribe, whether
dolls or bon-bons, and, rushing back in breathless haste, he handed it
to her. Then she became cheerful at once, and giving it to her mother to
be taken care of, she went on and performed her part in the concert.
One of the most amusing of these anecdotes was told by Colonel Mapleson,
the well-known impresario, who says that no one ever approached Madame
Patti in the art of obtaining from a manager the greatest possible sum
that he could contrive by any possibility to pay. In 1882, owing to the
competition of Henry Abbey, the American impresario, Mapleson was
obliged to raise Patti's salary from $1,000 per night to $4,000, and,
finally, to $5,000 per night, a sum previously unheard-of in the annals
of opera. The price, moreover, was to be paid at two o'clock of the day
on which Patti was to sing.
On the second night of the engagement at Boston, Madame Patti was billed
to sing in "Traviata." Expenses had been heavy and the funds were low,
so that when Signor Franchi, Patti's agent, called at the theatre
promptly at two o'clock, only $4,000 could be scraped together. Signor
Franchi was indignant, and declared that the contract was broken, and
that Madame Patti would not sing. He refused to take the $4,000, and
went off to report the matter to the prima donna. At four o'clock,
Signor Franchi returned to the theatre, and congratulated Colonel
Mapleson on his facility for managing Madame Patti, saying that she
would do for the colonel that which she would do for no other
impresario. In short, Patti would take the $4,000 and dress for her
part, all except her shoes. She would arrive at the theatre at the
regular time, and when the remaining paltry $1,000 was forthcoming she
would put on her shoes and be ready to go on the stage.
Everything happened as Patti had promised. She arrived at the theatre
costumed as Violetta, but minus her shoes. Franchi called at the
box-office, but only $800 was on hand. The genial Signor took the money
and returned to Patti's room. He soon appeared again to say that Madame
Patti was all ready except one shoe, which she could not put on until
the remaining $200 was paid. It was already time for the performance to
begin, but people were still coming in, and after some slight delay
Signor Franchi was able to go in triumph to Madame Patti with the
balance of the amount. Patti put on her other shoe and proceeded to the
stage. She made her entrance at the proper time, her face radiant with
smiles, and no one in the audience had any idea of the stirring events
which had just taken place.
In later years, when Madame Patti invested some of her fortune in the
beautiful castle at Craig-y-Nos, in Wales, the people employed to put
the place into repair, knowing of her reputed wealth and extravagance,
sent in enormous bills. But Madame Patti was not to be imposed upon, and
the result was that the amounts melted down considerably under the
gentle influence of the law. The unkindest cut of all was, however,
when a Belgian gentleman, who had amused himself at Craig-y-Nos, who had
fished, shot, and been entertained, but who always managed to be present
during discussions on business, sent in a bill of L3,000 for his
services as agent.
Under the management of Colonel Mapleson, Patti travelled in most
luxurious style. She had a special car which is said to have cost
$65,000, and a whole retinue of servants. At Cheyenne, the legislature
and assembly adjourned and chartered a special car to meet the operatic
train. A military band was at the station, and nearly the whole
population turned out to witness the arrival. Tickets to the opera were
ten dollars each, and there was an audience of 3,000 people.
California seems to have been considered doubtful territory, for Patti
left the question undecided as to whether she would go so far. When she
did arrive it was merely as a visitor, but her delight with the
"heavenly place" was so great that she declared she _must_ sing there.
The necessary delay incurred by sending to Chicago for numerous trunks
containing her wardrobe, gave sufficient time for the excitement in San
Francisco to work up to fever heat. Tickets sold at unheard-of prices,
and more or less damage to property was done in the scramble.
Adelina Patti made her first matrimonial venture in 1868, when she was
united to the Marquis de Caux, an event which did not interfere with her
operatic career, for she filled an engagement of six weeks at Paris, and
then went on to St. Petersburg, where the town opened a subscription
which amounted to 100,000 rubles, and presented her with a diamond
necklace.
In 1885 Madame Patti obtained a divorce from the Marquis de Caux, from
whom she had separated in 1877, and the following year married Ernest
Nicolini, the tenor singer. Nicolini was a man of fine stage presence,
and, for a time, after the retirement of Mario, was considered the best
tenor on the stage. His voice was of moderate power and of pleasing
quality, but his tremolo was, to say the least, extensive. For some
years Madame Patti declined every engagement in which Nicolini was not
included, until the public indignation found vent in many protests.
Signor Nicolini seems to have been a devoted and admiring husband, and
to have entered heartily into the pleasures of the luxurious life of
Craig-y-Nos. He died in January, 1898.
After some years of retirement from the operatic stage, during which she
sang only in concerts, Patti made a reappearance at Covent Garden in
1895, and showed that her voice, notwithstanding nearly forty years of
use, was wonderfully well preserved. Nevertheless it was a
disappointment to those who had heard her in her prime. As a reason for
its preservation she says that she never sings when she is tired, and
never strains for high notes. Sir Morell Mackenzie, the great throat
specialist, said that she had the most wonderful throat he ever saw. It
was the only one in which the vocal cords were in absolutely perfect
condition after many years of use. They were not strained, warped, or
roughened in the slightest degree, but absolutely perfect, and there was
no reason why they should not remain so for ten or even twenty years
longer. It was by her voice alone that she charmed and delighted her
audiences, and she will doubtless be recorded as the possessor of the
most perfect voice of the nineteenth century. She witnessed the rise of
many rivals, but none ever equalled her in popularity, though many
excelled her in dramatic powers. Lucca, Sembrich, Nilsson, were all
greater as actresses, but of all the rivals of her prime only Sembrich
and Albani remain, and several years must elapse before their careers
will equal the length of Patti's.
Probably no other singer has succeeded in amassing so great a fortune as
Madame Patti. Her earnings enabled her to purchase, in 1878, the
beautiful estate in Wales, which she remodelled to suit her own ideas.
Here she has lived in regal style and entertained lavishly many of the
most noted people of the civilized world.
Her wealth is by no means confined to real estate, for she has a rare
collection of jewels, said to be the largest and most brilliant owned by
any of the modern actresses and opera singers. One of her gowns, worn in
the third act of "La Traviata," was covered with precious stones to the
value of $500,000.
Madame Patti's most popular roles were Juliet and Aida, and though she
created no new parts of importance, she has amply fulfilled the
traditional role of prima donna in matters of caprice and exaction, and
has even created some new precedents. In 1898 she was still before the
public, singing in concerts in London and elsewhere.