PRIMA DONNAS OF THE SEVENTIES.
The decade beginning with the year 1860 was remarkably prolific in
singers, producing not only the prima donnas whose careers we have
reviewed in the previous chapters, but also some of the finest
contralto, tenor, and baritone singers of the latter part of the
century. With each decade we find the American singer more in evidence.
We have had Clara Louise Kellogg and Minnie Hauk, the sopranos, Adelaide
Phillips, contralto, and Annie Louise Cary, and the number increases as
we proceed, until we find American singers standing on an artistic
equality with the best that the world can produce.
The decade of 1870 opens with a prima donna from the American
continent,--a singer who has held her place in public estimation for
nearly thirty years, Madame Albani. While she was not such a marvellous
colorature singer as Patti or Gerster, she combined so many excellent
qualities that she is justly entitled to a position among the great
singers of the century. As one critic expressed his opinion, she was
"beautiful, tuneful, birdlike, innocent, and ladylike," to which might
be added, "always reliable."
Madame Albani's family name was Marie Louise Cecilia Emma Lajeunesse,
and she was born, in 1850, of French-Canadian parents at Chambly, near
Montreal. Her father was a professor of the harp, so she began life in a
musical atmosphere. When she was five years of age the family moved to
Montreal, and she was placed in the convent of the Sacre Coeur, where
she received her education, and such musical instruction as the convent
could provide. In 1864 the family again moved, this time to Albany, N.
Y., and when Mlle. Lajeunesse entered upon her professional career, she
adopted the name of this city, because it was here that she decided upon
becoming a professional singer.
While singing in the choir of the Catholic Cathedral she attracted the
attention of the bishop by her beautiful voice, and he strongly urged
her father to take her to Europe, and place her under proper masters for
the development of her remarkable talent. To provide the necessary
funds, a concert was given in Albany, after which Mlle. Lajeunesse and
her father proceeded to Paris, where she commenced her studies with
Duprez. After some months she went on to Milan, where she became a pupil
of Lamperti, who thought so highly of her that he dedicated to her a
treatise on "the shake." In 1870 she made her debut at Messina, in the
Sonnambula, after which she sang for a time at Florence.
In 1872 she obtained an engagement in London, and on April 2d appeared
at the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden. The beautiful qualities of
her voice and the charm of her appearance were at once appreciated, and
before the end of the season she was firmly established in the favor of
the public. Later in the season she appeared in Paris, and then returned
to Milan for further study, but so favorable an impression had she made,
that she was engaged for the season of 1873 in London. She then went to
St. Petersburg, after which she revisited America, and sang again in the
Cathedral at Albany.
In 1878 Albani married Mr. Ernest Gye, the lessee of Covent Garden
Theatre, and for many years was one of the permanent attractions at that
house. She has visited America several times, and has also sung in most
of the large cities of Europe, where her reputation has been steadily
maintained.
Madame Albani's honors have not all been won in opera, though she has an
immense repertoire, including Italian, French, and German operas. She is
also one of the foremost concert and oratorio singers, and has had the
honor of creating numerous soprano parts at the great festivals. At the
request of Sir Arthur Sullivan, she travelled from Brussels to Berlin
expressly to sing the part of "Elsie" in the "Golden Legend," at its
second performance in that city. She had created the part when it was
produced in 1886.
In England, where Madame Albani has made her home for so many years, she
is as popular and as highly respected on account of her domestic life,
as on account of her artistic career, and her friends are not only
numerous but include many of the most intellectual people of the day.
Notwithstanding the success which Madame Albani made in England, France,
Russia, and other countries, she had her trials and disappointments. At
one time, when she was singing at La Scala, in Milan, she was suffering
from a slight hoarseness. Most audiences would have been indulgent, but
not so the Milanese, who are particularly cruel to singers who have made
their reputation in other places. The Milanese hissed and groaned.
Huskiness in a singer was, to them, a crime. The tenor, seeing how
matters stood, was taken with a sudden indisposition, and left Albani to
carry on the performance alone. The opera was "Lucia," and it proceeded
no farther than the mad scene, for Madame Albani, indignant at the
treatment accorded her, turned her back on the audience, and in a most
dignified manner, marched off the stage, leaving the curtain to fall on
a scene of confusion. No entreaties or arguments on the part of the
impresario would induce her to finish the opera, or even to continue her
engagement at La Scala.
Colonel Mapleson tells this story concerning Albani's first London
engagement. He heard of her singing at a small theatre at Malta, and,
thinking that she would be successful, he made her an offer, through an
agent, of a contract to sing at Her Majesty's Theatre. She agreed to it,
and went to London, but, on arriving there, she told the cabman to drive
her to the "Italian Opera House." He, instead of going to Her Majesty's,
took her to Covent Garden, which was also devoted to Italian opera. She
was shown up to the manager's office, and stated that she had come to
sign the contract which Mr. Mapleson had offered her. Mr. Gye, thinking
to play a joke on his rival, Mapleson, made out a contract, and Albani
signed it. Mr. Gye then told her that he was not Colonel Mapleson, but
that he could do much better for her. He offered to tear up the
contract if she liked, but told her that Nilsson was singing at Her
Majesty's and would brook no rival. Albani decided to let the contract
stand, and thus became one of the stars of Covent Garden, eventually
marrying the son of Mr. Gye.
Concerning Albani's singing in Berlin, the _Berliner Tageblatt_ said:
"The lady possesses an exceedingly peculiar organ, trained in a
remarkable manner, and no one else has a voice which can be compared to
it. It is not extensive in its range; the lower chest notes of the
one-line octave might be fuller and more powerful, but the upper
register is distinguished for enchanting sweetness, unfailing
correctness, and, what is especially worthy of notice, a softness
enabling the lady to breathe forth the gentlest pianissimo in passages
which others can reach only with the greatest effort. Runs, staccatos,
and shakes are not merely certain and pleasing, but, as regards form,
so graceful that we listen to them with delight."
An interesting anecdote concerning Madame Albani, and one which may tend
to confirm the faith of those who doubt theorists, is to the effect
that, when she was young and unknown, she paid a visit to a throat
specialist, who had a theory that, by examination, it is possible for an
expert to tell whether the possessor has an organ susceptible of
producing a fine singer, even if he does not know music, and never sang
a note.
After examining Albani, without knowing her particular reason for
consulting him, he exclaimed: "My dear young lady, Nature has given you
a wonderful organ. You can, if you will, become one of the greatest of
singers. If you possess dramatic ability equal to the endowment of your
throat, you can become a famous lyric artist, and I advise you to
devote your energies to the cultivation of your powers."
The young singer thanked him, and disappeared. Some years after, he went
West, and one day in Chicago, a handsomely dressed lady entered his
office. "Don't you know me?" she said. But he was unable to recall her
last visit, until she revealed her name, and related the whole incident,
when he seemed very much surprised at the proof of his own wisdom.
In 1898 Madame Albani paid a visit to South Africa, where she had a
grand reception. After a career of nearly thirty years, she is still as
popular as ever.
The history of Emma Abbott is one which will be read with interest by
all struggling and ambitious young people, for it is a story of brave
battling against innumerable difficulties. Miss Abbott was the daughter
of a poor music teacher, of Peoria, Illinois. Her early years gave her
an acquaintance with hardship which, perhaps, enabled her to keep up
her courage in the face of all obstacles. Imbued with the desire to help
the family finances, she got the idea of giving a concert on her own
account, for even as a small child she had a beautiful voice. At the age
of thirteen, when she went to Mount Pulaski, on a visit to some friends,
she put her idea into execution. She was trusted by the printer for her
programmes and handbills. She posted her notices with her own hand, and
secured a good audience. Her proceeds amounted to ten dollars, of which
three dollars went to settle her bills, and with the remaining seven
dollars she returned in triumph to her mother. After this, she gave
guitar lessons to pay her schooling. At the age of sixteen, she heard of
a vacancy for a school-teacher, and walked nine miles to see the school
committee, with the result that, in recognition of her pluck, the place
was given to her. Four months later she gave her first large concert in
Peoria, and made one hundred dollars. She now travelled to various
places giving concerts and fell in with an opera company from Chicago,
the manager of which induced her to join the company. In due course the
company broke up, and Miss Abbott found herself without money, but a
kind-hearted railroad man advised her to go to New York, and present
herself to Parepa-Rosa. He gave her a pass to Detroit, and then she was
to go through Canada, and so to New York. Her journey was managed in the
face of tremendous obstacles. She gave concerts, but found little
response to her efforts. She frequently had to walk from one town to
another. Once she had her feet frozen and many times she suffered from
hunger. At last she reached New York, but, in spite of all her efforts,
failed to reach Parepa-Rosa, and with her last fifteen dollars, she set
out for the West again. While in Toledo she heard that Miss Kellogg was
in town, and she called at her hotel and asked to see her. She sang for
Miss Kellogg, who received her kindly, and who was so pleased with her
that she gave her a letter to Errani, New York, and enough money to
enable her to study for two years.
Thus ended her bitterest struggles. After studying some time she secured
the position of soprano in the choir of the Fifth Avenue Church, with a
salary of $1,500, and on May 20, 1872, she set off for Europe with a
large sum of money subscribed by the wealthy people of the church, whose
admiration she had gained by her voice and her character.
She soon made her debut in Paris, and made a sensation. In Paris she
married Eugene Wetherell, a young druggist of New York.
If Miss Abbott is not enrolled among the great opera singers, it is
because her ambition led her away from the beaten track, for, having
made a reputation, she established an opera company of her own, which
existed in America for several years, and enabled her to make a fortune
estimated at half a million dollars. Her husband died in 1889, and his
loss was a blow from which she never fully recovered. She was herself
taken away in her prime in 1891.
In 1873 a young singer made her debut at Dresden, who was destined to
achieve a high reputation as an interpreter of Wagner, and to rival the
greatest stars of her school. Therese Malten, who was born at
Insterburg, Eastern Prussia, appeared in Dresden as Pamina, and as
Agatha. For nearly ten years she sang only in Dresden, taking many of
the soprano roles in Italian opera. In 1882 she sang at Bayreuth, as
Kundry, at the desire of Wagner, who had a very high opinion of her
ability, which was amply justified by the results.
In London she appeared in May, 1882, when she made a great impression,
and the critics declared that, though her art in singing was not so
perfect as Materna's, her voice was fresh, magnificent, powerful, and
that she had great personal beauty. Besides possessing a voice of
extraordinary compass, with deep and powerful notes in the lower
register, she was considered an admirable actress. In 1883 she was
chosen by Wagner to sing the part of Isolde at Bayreuth, when she was
described, amidst all the praise that was bestowed upon her, as a young
singer who was never known out of Dresden until she sang in London the
previous year.
Madame Katharina Lohse-Klafsky, who was born in the same year as Malten,
and was for several years prima donna at the Hamburg Opera, visited
America in 1895, and died unexpectedly at Hamburg the following year as
the result of an operation. She was a native of Hungary, and began her
career in Italian opera, though she was best known as a Wagnerian
singer. She had a large repertoire, and created the part, in German, in
"La Navarraise." She met with great success in London in 1892 and 1894.
She had a full, rich-toned voice and a handsome stage presence.
A career of exceptional brilliance, but all too brief, was that of
Etelka Gerster, who was born at Koschau, in Hungary, in 1856. Her father
was a merchant, and brought up his family to refined tastes. All his
children were fond of music, but none seemed to think of special musical
study until a visiting friend from Vienna spoke of the promise which he
thought lay in Etelka's voice.
This gentleman asked permission to bring his friend Hellmesberger to
hear her, and some time later the visit took place. Doctor Hellmesberger
endorsed the opinion already given, but said that there was only one
judge of such matters in Vienna,--Madame Marchesi A visit was therefore
made to Vienna, with the result that Mlle. Gerster became a pupil of
Marchesi, and after a year of hard study won first prize at the
Conservatoire.
About this time "Aida" was brought out at Vienna, and the composer Verdi
came to superintend its production. He visited the Conservatoire, and a
little soiree musicale was given in his honor. On this occasion Gerster
sang several pieces, and Verdi was so pleased that he advised her to go
on the stage.
Soon after this Gerster got an engagement to sing at Venice under the
management of Signor Gardini. She spent two seasons singing in Italian
and Spanish towns, but in 1877 she appeared in Berlin at Kroll's
Theatre. This engagement was the turning-point of her career, for by the
magic of her voice she turned the second-class theatre into a resort to
which the nobility flocked every night, and the venerable emperor and
his court always held the front row of seats.
For three weeks the company, composed of singers unknown to fame, sang
to empty houses. Then, whispers of the fact that Kroll's Theatre had a
singer of extraordinary ability resulted in increasing audiences. The
emperor came and was delighted, and an invitation to sing at court was
the result. After this triumphant engagement, Gerster married her
manager, Signor Gardini, while they were in Pesth.
Compared with many prima donnas, Madame Gerster's life has been
uneventful. Her position as a singer was as a representative of the old
art of beautiful singing. She charmed with gracefulness, smoothness, and
exquisite finish of execution, and the most perfect musical taste, which
every phrase, even in the most florid passages, revealed. She could not
awe, like Pasta, but she could fascinate and charm. She was not a great
actress, but she was graceful and pleasing on the stage.
Madame Gerster visited the United States several times, but at the end
of the season of 1881 she declared that she would never sing again under
the management of Colonel Mapleson. He had hurt her feelings by neglect.
He had called on other members of the company, and showed various little
attentions to them, but he never called on her nor inquired about her
health when she was not feeling well, and finally went off to Europe
without saying "Good-by." This hurt the feelings of Signor Gardini, as
well as those of his talented spouse, but she nevertheless returned as a
member of his company in 1883-84, when there was great rivalry between
Gerster and Patti. On approaching Cheyenne, Patti insisted on having her
car detached from the train and making a separate entry, as she could
not bear to share the admiration of the multitude with Gerster. During
this tour there was one occasion on which, Patti and Gerster appearing
together, Patti received so many flowers that the audience were weary
with the delay caused by handing them over the footlights. When this
ceremony was over, one small basket of flowers was handed for Gerster,
but the audience arose and gave her a tremendous ovation. Henceforth
Patti refused to sing with Gerster, and open war was declared, Patti
declaring that Gerster had "the evil eye," and Gerster saying pointed
things about Patti, as, for instance, when the aged governor of
Missouri, in a burst of enthusiasm, kissed Patti, and Gerster, on being
asked her opinion about this frivolity, said that she saw no harm in a
man kissing a woman old enough to be his mother.
In 1885 Gerster came again to America on a concert tour, but her
beautiful voice had gone. She sang twice in New York, and made a most
dismal failure, so she gave up the tour and went home, much to the
regret of Americans who remembered the days when her singing gave the
most exquisite delight.
Signor and Signora Gardini had a beautiful estate in the Campagna of
Italy, to which they retired between seasons, and where they enjoyed
entertaining their guests. Signora Gardini was devoted to the cares of
her household, and proved herself to be an excellent housekeeper and an
accomplished cook.
In this home nothing was wanting to make it a most delightful place of
residence for even such a spoiled child as a prima donna. But alas! this
happy life was destined to end very soon. Colonel Mapleson in his
memoirs declared that Gerster was a most difficult person to get along
with, and now Signor Gardini was forced to the same conclusion, for it
was reported that the beautiful prima donna was in the habit of giving
way to frightful outbursts of temper. To this cause is attributed the
loss of her voice, as well as the loss of her husband. The "Villa
Mezzana" was closed, and portions of the estate let to various small
farmers. Madame Gerster went with her children to Paris, but soon after
moved to Berlin and became a vocal teacher. She was only twenty-eight
years of age when at the height of her fame, and at thirty her career
was over. Referring to Mapleson once more, who was never inclined to
mince matters when he was annoyed by a prima donna, we get the following
anecdote. While travelling between Louisville and Chicago, the
sleeping-car in which Gerster was travelling broke down and had to be
side-tracked. Madame Gerster was requested to change into another car,
as it was impossible to continue in the one which she was occupying, but
she positively refused to move. She had paid to ride in that car, and
in that car would she go and in no other. No arguments could induce her
to change her mind. At last an expedient was discovered,--the station
agent at the nearest place was a remarkably fine-looking man. He was
dressed up and introduced to her as the president of the road. He
flattered her till she began to soften, and then told her that the
company would be under great obligations to her if she would consent to
use another car. He had a Brussels carpet laid from the door of her car
to that which she was to occupy, and the lady, pleased at the deference
shown to her by so high an official, at last consented to make the
change.
Some of the press criticisms of Gerster's performances during her tour
in 1881 were highly amusing. The following were selected from a paper
published in a large Southern city: "Mrs. Gerster's Lucia is the Lucia
of our youth, and our first ecstasies arose as from a nest of flowers
as fresh and adorable as ever," whatever that may mean. What it
ordinarily described as a walk was pictured in the following mysterious
sentence: "Her light tread as of a restless and frightened bird." Some
of her trills were described as "aflame with passionate intoxication,"
while others were "white and wet with the tears of grief." All this
excellence was manifested with "never a scream to mar her singing." Such
admirable descriptions must have gone far towards reconciling those who
were unable to see and hear the great songstress.
There is and has been much fault to find with American musical
criticism. Excellent musicians have been subjected to the vulgar abuse
of self-sufficient ignoramuses. A movement was recently put on foot to
establish a school of musical journalism, and possibly the following
selection, which was written concerning a lady of excellent musical
ability and of world-wide reputation, may be allowed here as an argument
in favor of a proper training for critics. For absolute vulgarity it may
be awarded a first prize. It was written in 1882 in a city which lays
claim to civilization, and the only excuse for its introduction is the
hope that it may serve a good end.
"The divine ---- was as resolute as usual, which, by the way, she
ought to be, being well seasoned. The editor of this paper makes no
great pretensions in the way of musical criticism, but when a
genuine six hundred dollar grand spiral subsand twist, back-action,
self-adjusting, chronometer-balanced, full-jewelled, fourth-proof,
ripsnorting conglomeration comes to town, he proposes to hump
himself. Her diaphragm has evidently not, like wine, improved with
old age. Her upper register is up-stairs near the skylight, while
her lower register is closed for repairs. The aforesaid ----
performed her triple act of singing, rolling her eyes, and speaking
to some one at the wings, at the same time. Her smiles at the
feller behind the scenes were divine. Her singing, when she
condescended to pay attention to the audience, to my critical ear
(the other ear being folded up) seemed to be a blending of
fortissimo, crescendo, damfino or care either. Her costume was the
harmonious blending of the circus tent and balloon style, and was
very gorgeous, barring a tendency to spill some of its contents out
at the top. The Italian part of the business was as fidgety and
furious as usual, and demonstrated what early associations with
hand-organ and monkey will accomplish.
"The venerable and obese freak of nature,----, was as usual, his
appearance very nearly resembling a stove in a corner grocery, or
water-tank on a narrow-gauge railroad. He was not fully appreciated
until he turned to go off the stage. Then he appeared to the best
advantage, and seemed to take an interest in getting out of sight
as quickly as possible, an effort in which he had the hearty
approval of the audience."
Maurice Strakosch, on behalf of Christine Nilsson, brought suit against
a paper published in a large town in New York State for printing an
article under the head of "Nilsson Swindle," in which the bucolic editor
declared that Nilsson was no singer and could not be compared with Jenny
Lind; therefore she had no right to charge Lind prices.
Marcella Sembrich, who made her debut in 1877 as an opera singer, is one
of the most talented musicians of the century. She was born in Galicia,
at Lemberg, in 1858, and was taught music by her father, while very
young. She appeared in a concert at the age of twelve, playing both the
pianoforte and the violin. She continued her studies on these
instruments under Stengel and Bruckmann, professors at Lemberg, and then
went to Vienna to complete her studies under Franz Liszt. Here, however,
she was found to be the possessor of an unusually fine voice, which she
began to cultivate under Lamperti the younger, and she decided to become
an opera singer.
Her engagement in Athens, where her debut took place, was highly
successful, and she next appeared at Dresden in October, 1878, where she
remained until the spring of 1880, acquiring a high reputation. In June
of that year she made her first appearance in London, under the
management of Mr. Ernest Gye, and was so successful that she was engaged
for the two following seasons.
Of the impression made by her in London, one of the critics wrote: "Her
voice has been so carefully tutored that we cannot think of any part in
any opera, where a genuine soprano is essential, that could present
difficulties to its possessor not easily got over _per saltum_."
Sembrich was included with Patti, Gerster, Di Murska, and Albani, as one
of "the great lights of the day," in 1880.
In St. Petersburg Mlle. Sembrich once gave a concert which drew an
immense audience, all the tickets being sold. The receipts, which
amounted to over nine thousand rubles, were handed over to the poor
students' fund. At this concert, the audience had the opportunity to
admire her in the capacities of singer, violinist, and pianist. As a
violinist she could be listened to with pleasure; as a pianist she was
considered worthy of a place in the front rank, particularly as an
excellent interpreter of Chopin, while as a singer she was one of the
"great lights of the day."
Mlle. Sembrich married her former teacher, Stengel, and has for many
years made her home in Dresden.
She is an ardent horse-woman, and is said to have called forth a
somewhat doubtful compliment from the Emperor of Germany, when her horse
became frightened during a military review, and she succeeded in
managing the animal with great skill. "Madame," said he, "if you were
not the greatest singer in the world, you would be empress of the
circus."
In 1897 Mlle. Sembrich made a tour of the United States, singing in
concerts in most of the large cities, and fully maintaining her high
reputation.
In 1879, at Turin, another young American singer made her debut, at the
age of eighteen. Marie Van Zandt came of a New York family of Dutch
extraction. Her mother was a singer of some renown, and had been a
member of the Carl Rosa company. Marie was taught singing by Lamperti,
and after her debut in Turin she went to London, and appeared at Her
Majesty's Theatre, where she was well received on account of the
freshness of her voice and her unaffected style. The following year she
appeared in Paris at the Opera Comique as Mignon, and made such a
success that she was immediately engaged for a term of years.
Although her voice was extremely light, it was of sweet quality, and
marvellously flexible. Her success in Paris was instantaneous, and she
became the pet of society, besides which she was, strange to say, well
liked by her fellow artists, and admired by her impresario. Ambroise
Thomas, the composer, declared her to be the very impersonation of
Mignon, and she sang in that role sixty-one nights to crowded houses. It
is doubtful whether any singer ever won more rapid fame. At the end of
her season she had impresarios from Sweden, Russia, England, and America
offering her engagements. It is said, too, that no less than six
composers wrote operas for her, and that Delibes's "Lakme" was one of
these.
In November, 1884, Rossini's "Barbiere" was revived, and Miss Van Zandt
was cast for the leading part. She was, however, so overcome by
nervousness that she lost her voice, and was, in consequence, treated
most shamefully by the press and public of fickle Paris. She therefore
obtained leave of absence, and played in Copenhagen and other places,
appearing in St. Petersburg on December 17th. In 1885, when she
returned to Paris, the hostile attacks upon her were renewed, and M.
Carvalho agreed to break the contract. Notwithstanding a riot, which was
carried on chiefly by a mob of about a thousand persons, who surrounded
the Opera House, Miss Van Zandt made a great success. The people in the
house, with a few exceptions, gave her a double recall, men waved their
hats, women their handkerchiefs, and there was an immense burst of
applause. The rioters kept at the back of the boxes.
She now went to London and created a great impression in "Lakme," at the
Gaiety Theatre.
An incident of her early career in Paris carried with it a certain
amount of romance. A young Frenchman bribed her cabman to take her to a
certain restaurant after the opera, where he and his friends were
waiting to invite her to supper. Through the vigilance of her mother the
plan was frustrated, but the story of the incident reached America, and
came to the ears of a young man who had been an early playmate of the
prima donna, and whose affection had grown stronger as time passed on.
He went over to Paris, and challenged the young Frenchman to mortal
combat. The Frenchman acknowledged the irreproachable character of Mlle.
Van Zandt, but expressed himself as being quite at the service of the
gentleman for any amount of fighting. Details of the fight are not on
file.
Miss Van Zandt was born in Texas, where her father owned a ranch, and
her childhood was spent in the enjoyment of the free life of the plains.
Her family later removed to New York, and then to London. She met
Adelina Patti, who was so pleased with her voice that she gave her every
encouragement, and is said to have called her her successor. But there
have been so many successors of Patti!
A few years after Miss Van Zandt's debut, an amusing rivalry sprang up
between her and another young American soprano, Emma Nevada. So bitter
was the hostility, that one evening, when Miss Van Zandt was taken ill
suddenly during the performance, her friends went so far as to declare
that she had been drugged by the adherents of Miss Nevada. Such little
quarrels are frequent among prima donnas, and are doubtless largely
engineered by the newspapers, whose appetite for the sensational is
enormous.
On April 27, 1898, at the mayoralty of the Champs Elysees district in
Paris, Marie Van Zandt was married to Petrovitch de Tcherinoff, a
Russian state councillor, and professor at the Imperial Academy of
Moscow, after which it was announced that she would retire from the
stage.