LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS THE MACMILLAN COMPANY SOW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO DALLAS ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. TORONTO DAVID BISPHAM From a Photograph by Hartsook, Los Angeles A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS BY DAVID BISPHAM David Bispham Memorial Edition Issued Through the Courtesy of THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS Copyright 1920 By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Set up nd electrotyped. Published January, 1920 PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION A Heart to Heart Talk with Students of Singing and their Teachers The possession of a real singing voice coupled with real musical ability is a very rare and, seemingly, a chance gift granted to but one in ten thousand. The voice may exist without the requisite intelligence, or the musician ship minus the necessary vocal equipment. The possessor of both voice and brains is a most fortunate mortal and should be afforded every opportunity to make a career; the partially endowed, however, while entirely at liberty to cultivate their talents for personal and amateur use, should be carefully steered away from all thought of a public career and not lured toward it. Children should hear and be taught to sing good music in all schools as a delightful natural pastime, not as a matter of dull routine, until Nature determines whether, in special instances, further musical study is advisable. Though more women than men turn to music for their livelihood, marriage and family cares divert many from further thought of it as a profession. Boys' voices, touchingly pellucid as they often are, seldom retain their former charm after the time of change; with manhood vi PREFACE and its cares come thoughts, desires and urges in other directions, until most youths consider singing, after all, not to be a man's work. So we see that the number of contestants in the field is rapidly being reduced by the operations of that same Power that gave the gift and still offers the prize to all such as are strong enough to persevere in the contest. Yet there are multitudes of all sorts and conditions of men and women pressing in, lured by the prospect of what they consider to be easy gain, but these require further weeding out if even a tolerably good standard is to be maintained in the profession. I once was, for a short time, President of an Associa tion of Singing Teachers, and, during my speech at the annual banquet, my views upon two subjects caused such a storm of protest that I was good-naturedly hissed, and another reigned in my stead thereafter. The points to which exception was taken were, first, that no one should teach singing who could not sing, or who had not been a singer; and, second, that no one should teach people who had not enough voice to become, at least, fairly good amateurs. The outcry took the concrete form of "How are we, then, to earn a living?" To this my reply was "Do something else ; that is what most pupils have to do after wasting time and money on an Art in which they never had even a remote chance of success." Then came the hissing. I am uncompromising in my opinion upon these matters and try to make them plain early in my association with vocalists who seek my advice. PREFACE VII Civilization of the present is built up on models of the past. In every field of endeavor, we use the experiences and accomplishments of those before us in point of time as stepping-stones to still further accomplishment. Just so it is essential to add to the precept of the teacher the example of the performer, and we may paraphrase the old proverb by saying, an ounce of example is worth a pound of precept. The student may learn more from the model held before him by a competent artist than by the unproved ideas of a teacher personally inexperienced in singing. Nothing is truer when applied to singing than that "Many are called, but few are chosen. n But now let me take counsel with those who have demonstrated the possibility of ultimate success given Luck and Health, Opportunity, Natural Refinement and Level-headedness. At all costs singers must henceforth strive to avoid the general reproach of "Vox, et praeterea nihil" Voice, and nothing much besides. What must they do in the struggle to attain a high place in so exalted a calling as that of a singer? What must they know? What must they undergo ? Would-be-vocalists must continue carefully and rigor ously to train their voices in strength and agility so that the very delicate mechanism of the larynx may endure the strain of the long hours of practice in the studio and of rehearsal, before a public performance of any dig nified character is to be thought of. Vocalists must viii PREFACE how to read music well and should be as thoroughly trained for the requirements of vocal art as instrumen talists have to be for the reading and rendering of violin, piano and organ music. Orchestral players working for Union wages usually despise high-priced songbirds whose technical shortcomings are so obvious. Singers must acquire a full repertoire of classic songs, oratorios and operas. These things should be learned first, learned rapidly and learned well ; they are the stock in trade of the singer, but it is scarcely realized owing to the regrettable but quite frequent debasement of taste of the present time. Singers should learn Italian, French and German for the great music of those schools, and they must learn English for the magnificent music of our own tongue and for very shame's sake, for not one singer out of ten today can be understood when singing English, except in musical comedy where, unfortunately, good singing is not a requisite, but where, owing to the lack of other operatic opportunities, the very best avail able talent could be chosen, and should be heard. The artist should realize that he may have to undergo, beside what has been said about training for his work, a very hard life of early hours and late hours, with all- day work between; of unavoidable travel in cold, heat and discomfort; and of performance under stress of ill health. But, worst of all, the artist must endure the very general and equally undeserved reproach of lax morals, because Music and the Stage in Puritan times PREFACE ix acquired a bad name from which, in the esteem of many otherwise sensible people, they have by no means re covered. All these things, however, are set forth in the following narrative by one who has had long and close personal experience with every phase of his profession, and who therefore knows of what he speaks. To have acted in twenty-five plays and to have given as many recitations to music, to have performed fifty-eight operatic roles, to have rendered over two hundred oratorios, cantatas, and kindred works, and to have sung to date some fifteen hun dred songs, making a grand total of over eighteen hun dred titles is no mean achievement for an American Quaker Singer, but it is not a circumstance to what has been done by many of my colleagues in the cities of Europe where artistic work is so highly systematized. Such an advance is, I hope, possible in the United States where all musical art would be vastly improved by the initial careful selection of talented executants and by more intelligent study of a wisely chosen curriculum and preparation in all branches of vocal art before any as pirants would be permitted to inflict themselves upon the public. September, 1921. PREFACE IN overlooking a lifetime one may overlook many things in it ; I have forgotten some, I suppose ; it is often convenient to have a memory that forgets, but how incon venient not to have one that remembers! Memoirs they are what may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil ; Reminiscences the word is too high-sounding, unless one sings it ; but Recollections may be spoken; they belong more to the present. Recollections, then, let these be. Some of mine are subconscious, as of times far and far away, when my an cestors were, as Professor Huxley said, " sitting in trees and painting themselves blue " ; or of a later time when Christianity brought Rome, her art and her language, again to Britain ; or of a nearer day, when Freedom was demanded for the folk; or of that time still more near, when for Freedom's sake my own kindred sought a freer life in a newer world. These things are ever present in my thought, and of my life it should be an easy thing to tell; yet it is not, for am I not the concentrated essence of the experiences of my ancestors, as well as of myself? And so of my own self to tell the plain, unvarnished tale, I find it hard. Friends are a necessity for an artist: without them, be he never so good, he fails; with them, he stands at least a chance of success. It has been my good fortune to be blessed with many friends in private, and I owe nothing but thanks to the encouragement of the critical PREFACE fraternity; but to the public after all I owe everything, for to it, in the last analysis, is an artist beholden most. At present, however, I wish to express my gratitude to those who have so kindly helped me with this little vol ume, not the least among these being my good friend Wallace Rice, to whom I owe my delivery from the toils and fascinations of the dictaphone. In this book I have refrained from going into many particulars of my artistic career, preferring to give a general survey of its principal points, for my object is not only to interest music lovers by giving them a glimpse into an artist's life, but to provide a stimulus for amateurs who contemplate entering the professional arena, and to show them how necessary it is to have, in the first place, the natural ability, then the inner urge to prosecute their studies intelligently, the impulse to continue against op position, and the determination to endure to the end. To the profession of music, many are called but few are chosen. Of those who do achieve success, some are born to the purple, and so have the avenues of approach thrown open to them. But most of us are obliged to struggle in the press of those who throng the Muse even to touch the hem of her garment, and we may be thank ful if she stretches forth her hand to help us on our way. DAVID BISPHAM. New York, November 15, 1919. CONTENTS CHAPTER I INFANCY AND ORIGINS i CHAPTER II THE YOUNG IDEA 15 CHAPTER III Music's GOLDEN TONGUE 28 CHAPTER IV THE WORLD'S A STAGE 38 CHAPTER V STEPPING-STONES 47 CHAPTER VI DECISION 55 CHAPTER VII SERIOUS STUDY BEGINS . 62 CHAPTER VIII OPERA FROM AFAR 72 CHAPTER IX SPIRITS AND SOOTHSAYING 76 CHAPTER X CONCERTS IN LONDON . 82 CONTENTS CHAPTER XI PAGE OPERA FROM WITHIN 92 CHAPTER XII THE THRESHOLD CROSSED 102 CHAPTER XIII PLANCHETTE AND PROPHECY no CHAPTER XIV CLIMBING THE STEEPS 117 CHAPTER XV WITH MANY TONGUES 123 CHAPTER XVI FESTIVAL AND UNIVERSITY . . . .' 131 CHAPTER XVII THE FAT KNIGHT 139 CHAPTER XVIII ARTS AND LETTERS 146 CHAPTER XIX PHANTOMS OF HARMONY 157 CHAPTER XX FROM GRAVE TO GAY 168 CHAPTER XXI SWIMMING WITH THE TIDE 177 CHAPTER XXII MY AIN COUNTRIE 185 CONTENTS CHAPTER XXIII PAGE FORTUNE GOOD AND ILL 196 CHAPTER XXIV CYCLES OF SONG 204 CHAPTER XXV BEETHOVEN IN DRAMA 215 CHAPTER XXVI MY NATIVE TONGUE 224 CHAPTER XXVII ENTER DANNY DEEVER 230 CHAPTER XXVIII WHERE ANGELS FEAR 238 CHAPTER XXIX HAPS AND MISHAPS 247 CHAPTER XXX THE UNFLYING DUTCHMAN 259 CHAPTER XXXI A BAFFLED IDEAL 269 CHAPTER XXXII ACROSS SEAS AND CONTINENTS 280 CHAPTER XXXIII GOING To AND FRO 290 CHAPTER XXXIV COMPOSER AND CRITIC 301 CONTENTS CHAPTER XXXV PAGE WOMAN AND SONG 309 CHAPTER XJXXVI THREE PRESIDENTS 317 CHAPTER XXXVII SCULPTOR AND STAGE 326 CHAPTER XXXVIII SPEAKING WITH TONGUES 336 CHAPTER XXXIX PROGRAM MAKING 347 CHAPTER XL IN REDWOOD FORESTS 353 CHAPTER XLI DIVERSE INTERESTS 364 ILLUSTRATIONS David Bispham Frontispiece PAGE William D. Bispham, Jane S. Bispham, David S. Bispham, aged three Facing page 2 Myself when Young 5 Bispham Coat of Arms 9 Scull Coat of Arms 13 David Bispham, as the Due de Longueville, in Messager's Opera, " The Basoche " Facing page 80 David Bispham, as Kurwenal, in Wagner's " Tristan and Isolde" Facing page 114 David Bispham, as Alberich, in Wagner's " Niebelungen Ring" Facing page 114 David Bispham, as Beckmesser in Wagner's " Meistersingers " Facing page 124 David Bispham, as Schickaneder in Mozart's" Impresario " Facing page 124 David Bispham, as The Vicar, in Lehmann's " Vicar of Wakefield" Facing page 142 David Bispham, as Falstaff, in Verdi's " Falstaff " Facing page 142 David Bispham, as Wotan, in Wagner's " Valkyrie " Facing page 208 David Bispham, as Gomarez, in Floridia's " Paoletta " . . Facing page 342 Gomarez rejuvenated in Floridia's " Paoletta " Facing page 342 David Bispham The Death of Gomarez in Floridia's "Paoletta" . Facing page 343 David Bispham, from a sketch by J. A. Cahill .... 344 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS CHAPTER I INFANCY AND ORIGINS My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky; So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old. William Wordsworth. MY earliest recollection and what could be a more beautiful one? is of seeing a perfect rainbow after heavy storm. I was a child of two and a half years, spending part of a summer with my parents at Atlantic City, so convenient to us of Philadelphia. At the close of a rainy afternoon, when most of the guests were in doors and we small fry unwillingly cabined in the parlors of the old Clarendon House, a friend of my father's came in and, picking me from the floor, said, " Come, my little man, I'll show thee a rainbow." Carrying me on his shoulder, he bore me outside and stood me on the railing of the porch overlooking the sea. There, both its legs in the water, glowed a perfect rain bow against the black cloud that had been pelting us with its floods shortly before. My father's friend, and mine, explained to me about the shower, about the sun's shin ing out through the rain after the passing of the cloud, and how " that makes the rainbow." Many a time since 2 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS have I found as who has not? that there is beauty awaiting us after duress and storm, and a lesson withal ! As I look back, Arch Street in Philadelphia seems very important to me. A dignified street it was; one of pri vate houses with an occasional necessary " store " on a corner; but now, alas, how changed! I was born near it, at No. 30, North Seventh Street, on January 5, 1857, though my birth seems to be recorded nowhere, except possibly in a family Bible which long search has not re vealed. The reason for this lack of record is simple. My mother was Miss Jane Lippincott Scull before her mar riage to my father, William Danforth Bispham, and both were of old Quaker families ; but as my father had left the Quaker body, my mother was in consequence " dis owned for marrying out of meeting," and I was born be fore she was received back into the fold. Hence there is no record of my birth in the archives of the Society of Friends, and all effort has been unavailing to discover where my father, though a most particular and method ical lawyer, set down the fact of the arrival of his son and heir. Another early memory and my first recollection of the " Sabbath " is of bowed window shutters on a summer day and of going forth with my parents, led by my moth er's hand, to Arch Street half a " square " distant, and so to Meeting. As we went, we three together, on many a happy " First Day," we stopped to look at the grave of Benjamin Franklin in the corner of the cemetery at Fifth and Arch. Below Third Street, across the way from the Meeting House, was the old shop of Betsy Ross, where the first Stars and Stripes is said to have been made. At Seventh and Market was the house where Thomas Jeffer- INFANCY AND ORIGINS 3 son wrote the Declaration of Independence. At Sixth and Chestnut stood the State House with the Liberty Bell. How often have I climbed the belfry tower! And how well I recall the coming of the boys from the Civil War, cheering their lungs out as they swung past the sacred place of the nation's birth ! The quietude of my earliest years was too soon broken in upon by wars and the rumors of wars. Fort Sumter and Bull Run were in every one's mouths, to be followed by the names of McClellan, Sherman, Sheridan, and Grant. Men were drilling everywhere with canes and broomsticks. I even remember seeing men armed with shot-guns jumping on the Market Street horse-cars, to take the first train for Gettysburg during Lee's invasion of Pennsylvania. My father had already volunteered for the Blue Reserves, so called, and had two months of soldiering before the crisis was over. When he returned, to our surprise he preferred sleep ing on the little grass plot in our yard to repose in his bed. But he was a rather original man he played the flute, for instance, ran to fires with the Diligent En gine company, read Darwin and Huxley, and was called a freethinker. He had been educated at the Lawrence- ville School and at Princeton University, studying law at the latter. He freed himself so completely from Quaker ism that he would not be married in the Friends' Meet ing. My mother must have been, as indeed she was, deeply attached to one whom she followed to the dis approval of her parents and of the Meeting, but time heals all things and she returned to the fold after my birth. The little Seventh Street house fell from its estate and is no more. I often visited it in its decline, calling back 4 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS visions of my father as a volunteer fireman hurrying out in helmet, cape, and boots. I can still hear the soft notes of his flute. I remember the room where I was born, the red-headed sulphur matches I ate and the convulsion that followed, the torture of learning to read at my mother's knee, and the nightmare I used so often to have which was an unholy combination of the Fourth of July and the Book of Revelation pin-wheels and rockets and the end of the world consumed in fervent heat ! My father and I got on well -very well as I grew older and music began to grow within me; but, what a fright he gave me once ! Unknown to me he put on a wig while having his head shaved to stop the falling of his hair. He was in his easy chair when I came in to climb into his lap. As I thrust my fingers into his curly brown hair he suddenly bowed his head and left the wig in my hand. Poor child, I nearly died of fright, thinking I had pulled my father's head off ! It was my first ven ture with wigs, and little did my parents think when soothing me that I should wear so many of them in after life. My first sight of a boy in a false face was little better. I was quieted only when I put it on my self the first of how many disguises! I saw Abraham Lincoln as he passed in the procession on the occasion of an official visit to Philadelphia and, though but a child of five or six, my mental picture of the tall man seated in his open carriage as he raised his hat and bowed to the shouting throngs about him is as clear as if it happened yesterday. Several years be fore there was any question of the accuracy of George Gray Barnard's conception of Lincoln I was able to enter my personal protest to the sculptor himself while visiting his studio and seeing the sketch of the statue that has Myself When Young 6 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS since made such a stir. The head was a fine study, but in my opinion he entirely misunderstood the body of Lincoln and wrought out his conception in evident and ut ter disregard of what he actually looked like. I vividly recall the time of President Lincoln's as sassination, for I, a lad of eight, came home from school to find my mother upon her bed in a paroxysm of grief, sobbing out, " Our savior has been killed! " Soon after this we moved from Philadelphia to Moorestown, New Jersey, to live until after my gradu ation from college in 1876. I had often been there be fore on the old stage-coach, and used to be shown the place under the bank of Pennshawken Creek where the first members of my family to pass that way had slept in a cave. William Penn had granted lands to my peo ple, and they were going to them through the forests that then covered the country to take up their land and settle down among the Indians. But the aborigines were never hostile to Friends and were well treated by them, to the mutual advantage of both. We lived not far from the two Bispham farm houses that my forebears had built long before, one of which still stands. My two grandsires, born in 1795 and 1798 re spectively, lived, one to be eighty-five and the other to be eighty-nine. Both were large men, six feet tall, with the simple education of their ancestors. They had been New Jersey lads, the Bispham family belonging to Burlington, and the Sculls to Salem County. By honest work and business integrity they made themselves well off, both ac cumulating fortunes considerable for those days. These properties were divided equally among their rather nu merous children, so that no large portion of either re mains in any single pair of hands. INFANCY AND ORIGINS 7 Grandfather Scull had for many years a house at Germantown as well as one in Philadelphia, and there he used to spend the summers, six miles from the city and, as I used to think, at the end of a long journey. The old dwelling still stands on the site of the Battle of Germantown in Main Street, nearly opposite the Chew mansion and a few hundred yards above the Johnson house. Many a happy time have I had there as a boy, wondering over the scars of war still visible then: the cannon-ball break in the stone at the corner of the house, the marks of musketry upon the heavy doors, and the famous " bullet-hole fence " in the garden. Once in London at the height of my operatic life, sit ting by an open window on a warm summer day, an old four-wheeler crawled by and the odor of the horse drifted to my nostrils. On the instant I saw again and vividly, as if before my eyes, the old Germantown place where I had been so often in early boyhood: the stable, brown painted, the big bay horses in their stalls, the 'harness in its appointed place, the oval duck-pond in the stable-yard, the currant-bordered garden-walk, the grape- vined arbor, even the comet of the early Civil War time, and finally myself, full of watermelon, before my amused grandfather, waddling a bit of an actor even at that early age to make him laugh the louder. The smell from that antiquated London " growler " even brought back to me the memory of the brogue of the Irish serving-maids in the family, who lived out their lives in my grandfather's service, and of the rich Lan cashire burr of the English coachman, and of the broken English of a German nurse. My knack of picking up and imitating foreign accents and modulations of speech, so useful upon many later occasions, was doubtless ac- 8 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS quired at this time. One of the few actors whom I have found it difficult to imitate successfully, was my friend the late Beerbohm Tree, whose peculiar blend of German officer, Jewish actor, and Anglo-French society dude I never could accomplish. Tastes and predilections, quite as much as physical characteristics, have ancestral origins, and it is no small part of my good fortune that in inheriting a sound consti tution and rugged health from these grandparents of mine, I came also into possession of certain literary and artistic leanings, from which my love for music and the stage may well be derived, through the evident gifts in such fields which were apparent in my mother's family. Manuscript poems by my grandfather and by his eldest son, my uncle Gideon Scull, are still in my possession, and this uncle of mine wrote a number of books of a biographical character, and in addition showed consid erable cleverness by his drawings in pen-and-ink. There is a family legend that as a youth at table, Gideon would fashion from bread little animals, beasts of the field and denizens of the farmyard, for the amusement of his younger brothers and sisters. My uncle David, too, wrote books, choosing religious subjects which had puz zled him and every one before him, and which seem as far from solution as ever; while Edward, the youngest brother, exhibited in early manhood so considerable a talent for drawing and painting that he entered the classes of a celebrated Parisian artist. He found the life distasteful, however, and later painted only for his own and his family's enjoyment, devoting his years to good works. David Scull, the second brother and my mother's favorite, was the handsomest man I have ever known, and I loved him deeply. All these uncles were great Coat of Arms of the Bispham Family io A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS travelers, though my father's family were by preference stay-at-homes. The name of Bispham is one of great antiquity in the north of England and exists to this day in Lancashire and in the Lake District, where it was known long before the time of William the Conqueror. It is to be found in the Domesday Book, in 1086, written as Biscopham, since contracted into its present form, derived from the far more ancient name of the noble Saxon family of Biscop with the addition of the old word ham, meaning home, the combination signifying " The home of the Biscops." The earliest extended mention of an individual bear ing the name is to be found in the Chronicle of the monk Florence of Worcester, who gives a long account of Benedict Biscop as living between the years A. D. 628 and 689. He became a monk and founded the famous monastery of Jarrow at Wearmouth. There he edu cated to become his successor, the cleric known as the Venerable Bede, who also tells of his friend the Abbot as having made many journeys to Rome and as bringing back with him not only artificers in glass from Venice, but also " John, precentor of the church of St. Peter the Apostle, to Britain to teach his monks the course of chanting throughout the year." I like to think that I bear the name of a family to which is thus directly due the introduction into England of the earliest examples of its superb cathedral glass, and the introduction, too, of the noble Gregorian strains which afford so precious a basis for its ecclesiastical music. Thirty miles north of Liverpool and a few miles west of the smoky town of Wigan stands ancient Bispham Hall, from whose precincts, it is traditional in the American branch of the family, the Bispham men shook INFANCY AND ORIGINS 11 the dust of their feet after having turned Quaker, in order to cast in their lot with William Penn and their fellow colonists of like belief and aid him in the foundation of the new Commonwealth of Pennsylvania near the end of the seventeenth century, a thousand years after the days of Biscop and Bede. The family name has, from the time of its earliest recordings in church registers and upon legal documents, been subject to a variety of spell ings, natural enough when phonetics were the rule, and from the Biscopham of the Domesday Book came Biscopem and Biscopeym, finally settling into Bispham, pronounced Bispam, as indeed it was often to be found written in England. From this came Bispame, Bispen, and Bispin. With the departure of the original Quakers from their mother country to Philadelphia came a further gradual exodus of the clan to Boston, Virginia, and the West Indies. Indeed I have found representatives of the ancient name all over the United States and in Aus tralia. But few remain in England, and those are in Lancashire about the villages and ancient Hall of the name, or in the Lake District to the north. Besides my own but one other Bispham was for many years to be found in the London Directory, and I have never seen it among the lists of any choral body with which I sung during the whole of the time I assisted at festivals in England. In America my patronymic began to be spelled Bis- phame, Bisphan, Bisphen, l Bisphain, and Bisfan, and was often not only written but spoken as Bis f am, the let ters p and h being mistaken as intending the sound of /. The correct pronunciation is Bis-pam, the h being silent. Although I have been addressed as Mr. Bispum, which is 12 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS not so far away in sound, I am more often called Bisham, which is not at all correct. There is an old house on the Thames known as Bisham Abbey, but no one in the mother country confuses the two names, or mispro nounces my patronymic. Sometimes it is written in the United States as Bicham, Bishham, Bishamp, Bishpban, and Bishpham, the last being rather an ordinary mis conception of the name. I have kept many letters, telegrams, and the like, from which the following examples will show that the elder Mr. Weller's advice has been adopted and my surname set down " according to the taste and fancy of the speller." What an iniquity to manufacture out of seven simple letters such contortions as these ! Beechman, Bisparn, Besphain, Besphourm, Besthon, Biftham, Bipham, Biskham, and Biscamb. Others have con tributed Bistam, Bisthiam, Bixham; with Bisthan, Bispthan, Bispthane, Bisplain, and Bisplian. One of my friends, who should have known better, could never get her tongue untwisted from Bipsham. I have been de scribed on my own program as Mr. Dispham, and from being called " a household word " my poor cog nomen has degenerated at times to a state perilously near that of a household utensil, as in Dispam and Dishchanf The name of my mother's family, Scull, or Skull, possi bly derived from the Norse skald, a herald or crier, is also of great antiquity, and belongs to the west of Eng land, near the Welsh border. The first of the name to come to America was the Quaker, Nicholas Skull, who be came William Penn's surveyor and made the first map of Philadelphia. On the maternal side I am proud of be ing descended from a long line of Norman ancestors, as V1TAM IMPENDERE VERO Coat of Arms of the Scull Family i 4 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS set forth in the annals of the Order of Runnymede, com prising nine of the signers of Magna Charta, viz: Roger and Hugh Bigod, Henry de Bohun, Richard and Gilbert de Clare, John de Lacie, William de Mowbray, Saher de Quincey, and Robert de Vere. Good American as I am, I see nothing to be ashamed of in such re searches or in their results, agreeing with the old writer who said : " No man despiseth family save him who hath it not, or is unduly proud thereof who hath aught else to be proud of." My mother never permitted -a piano in her house, though she was not unmoved by the " concord of sweet sounds," and eventually accepted a cabinet organ as a gift from my father. I fancy he felt in me the beginnings of something like an accompanist for the strains of his flute, and so it turned out, for I soon began to pick out the harmonies with which my soul was filled, but of whose devious ways along the keys my fingers were ignorant. Though my own home was so largely unblest by the music which my mother's faith forbade her to enjoy, I found what I craved as I grew older in the house of my grandfather, Samuel Bispham, at No. 263, North Sixth Street, opposite Franklin Square. The good Samuel and his wife Maria, who was one of the Stokes clan, came of less strait-laced stock than the Sculls and Lippincotts, and a piano with music was to be found there, not of a high order, to be sure, but of a healthy sort. The nu merous grandchildren were welcome in the house, which was a second home to us. Grandfather himself used to troll many a lusty English ditty, and sang to us every Christmas Day until he had passed eighty, and I in the home circle there first lifted up my voice in song. CHATTER II THE YOUNG IDEA What will a child learn sooner than a song? Pope. THE little red-headed fellow of eight went from the big city and the quiet Friends' School at Twelfth and Chestnut streets, from the constant and almost sole com panionship of his dear mother, to live in the country at Moorestown, and meet a larger circle of acquaintances. An English journalist, writing a few years ago for a London paper upon American cities, described Phil' adelphia as a city on the banks of the Delaware River " opposite Camden." Yet, as an American writer said of Edmund Gosse's visit to the United States, he, the fas tidious critic and friend of the living world's great litte- rati, upon being summoned by a penciled post card to call upon Walt Whitman, proceeded to Camden, the last town in the world, made his way to the last street in the town, and to the last house in the street and there found in the American Sage one whom he was fain to call the greatest man he had ever met ! As Mark Twain called a girl's red hair " Skaneateles color, because it was ten miles from Auburn," so Moores town was ten miles from Camden. All around that coun tryside were fine sturdy descendants of British yeomen. They did not mingle with the world, these Quaker folk, for they seldom married out of Meeting, and many of them had never been to Philadelphia at all until the rail road was put through; then the old village with its Main Street lined with noble trees began rapidly to change. 15 16 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS At first we lived at Mrs. Higbee's house at the far end of the long street, and there began to come to me one by one the experiences of life. At Mrs. Higbee's there was an antique piano that stood harp-like against the wall; sitting by Miss Beulah's side at it, " turning over " for her as she played, I gained my first idea of musical notation. But " Miss Lill " was my favorite among the girls. She was the widow of a gallant officer in the Civil War, Major Morris, who had escaped all harm during many campaigns, only to die of heart disease as he stood lean ing against the fence at home after the war was over. I was much impressed by this and never have ceased to feel keen sorrow for that pretty young widow who was my teacher at her mother's house while we lived there. Nor shall I forget the readings, " Woodman, spare that tree," " Excelsior," and the like, with which she led my young mind to a knowledge of polite literature and belles lettres. Though I could not remember the rules of grammar she sought to instill into me, I possess to this day the very " Student's Companion " she gave me, and often think of the numerous English words of Latin der ivation with which I became acquainted in that truly admirable compendium of useful knowledge. Then came a home of our own and a real school for me. I was a willful lad, and after a while was placed with Bartram Kaighn, an aged man who had been my father's teacher when he was a boy in Philadelphia, and had prepared him for Princeton. As fate would have it this worthy Friend moved to Moorestown, and I was sent to my father's preceptor, who struggled manfully to in still into me a few of the many things he knew. Though fond of me, he often punished me, and I have always marveled at his patience, rattle-brained as I was. He THE YOUNG IDEA 17 prepared me for Haverford College, of which institution my grandfather Scull had been one of the founders, and there my mother's brothers had all been educated. I have many things to thank Bartram Kaighn for and noth ing to regret in my association with him, except circum stances for which I alone was to blame. As a boy I was, in many respects, a shy youngster ; in deed, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, I am shy still. Circumstances alone have forced me to appear to have a virtue which I do not possess, the assumption of which has caused many to think me a calm man in the presence of the public or elsewhere. My first lessons in French were with Bartram Kaighn. I had heard other boys speaking their lessons before I be gan to study the language, and with my quick ear I caught the correct pronunciation at once. But when first called upon by Mr. Kaighn to read a paragraph from " Tele- maque," my diffidence so overcame me that instead of pronouncing as I knew I should, I read the passages as if they were so many English words, realizing full well that I was condemning myself in the eyes of my master. Upon the conclusion of my efforts, he wearily said, " That will do, David; it is as well as I could have expected of thee." At that moment my British blood had spoken and whatever kinship I may have with the French was in abeyance, hiding its diminished head in the corner to which I expected Bartram to remand me as a punish ment; for in his school the stool, the corner, and the fool's cap were still institutions, dating back to the time of the whipping post and stocks which my father re membered well as existent at Moorestown in his boy- JiooA i8 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS I have always been ashamed of this first attempt at pronouncing French. My ability to pronounce the for eign tongues in which I have been compelled to sing has been of the greatest service to me. It goes without say ing that I have a full knowledge of the meaning of all that I sing in other languages, but I cannot sail far upon the sea of philology without fear of foundering, my vocabulary being limited to the words which will supply me with the necessaries of life, the conventions of con versation, or the language of song. All the book learning I knew good Bartram Kaighn made sufficiently available to enable me to pass the pre liminary college examinations, and I went from Moores- town gayly enough. I remember, however, being home sick and longing for the companionship of that dear mother whose only child I was. For a day, or maybe two days, I thought I should not be able to endure the anguish of separation. With all my high spirits, I was at first as lonely as a cat in a strange garret. All the boys seemed to walk about on their toes and look at me as dogs do when they are getting acquainted. Fortunately for me, however, I found at Haverford some of my old schoolmates and some of my cousins be sides, so I was not altogether alone. By these I was soon introduced to others with whom I formed life-long friend ships, though none of a musical nature. Scholastic work was immediately entered upon and was composed of a curriculum dignified in its simplicity, but noted then, as ever since, for its thoroughness and high objective. During my time at Haverford my deficiency in mathe matics was noticeable, though for a period I had a good enough will and memory to advance even as far as the THE YOUNG IDEA 19 study of trigonometry, conic sections, astronomy, and dear knows what ! all things that I dislike to remember. Finally I was given my choice between mathematics and the study of German, and I am glad that I was wise enough to take up the latter. It subsequently proved to be of the greatest use in my operatic career. At college our principal game was cricket, and Haver- ford had the finest team among American colleges, its reputation being kept up to the present day through the efforts of my kinsman, Henry Cope, who for years took an eleven to England to play with the schools and col leges there. Though I constantly played cricket I was not a good player. I could bowl fairly well, but some how or other my opponent always bowled better than I and, as the ball had a way of getting under my bat and knocking down my wicket, despite my best efforts to pre vent it from doing so, I was not given a place upon the first eleven and I fear but feebly adorned the ranks of the second. I suppose the ways of boys at Haverford were just the same as boys of any other school and I do not re member that any one indulged particularly in things that he should not have done, though perhaps owing to the strict rule of the Quakers we were not permitted to do many things which we might otherwise have done with perfect propriety. We all had to go to meeting on Sunday, " First Day," as they call it, and to the mid week meeting on " Fourth Day." We assembled out side the college on these occasions and marched, the Seniors first, the Juniors second, and the Sophomores and Freshmen bringing up the rear, solemnly along the little boardwalk across the bridge which spans the cut through which used to run the old Pennsylvania Railway trains. 20 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS Into the little Friends' meeting we filed, all sitting in silence the greater part of the time, though among the professors there were several admirable occasional speak ers. At Haverford there were sometimes mock trials and the like, taking the place of stage plays. In these I participated with the rest, and look back upon the eve nings thus spent with a great deal of pleasure; but the meetings of the quasi-secret society I joined I recollect with greater interest, for at some of these I made my first efforts at declaiming from Shakespeare such selections as Hamlet's Soliloquy, the speeches of Brutus and of Mark Antony or the quarrel scene from " Julius Caesar " and The Seven Ages of Man. I remember vividly my first hurt from criticism, for one of my friends took me off admirably, both in manner of delivery and in style of gesture. I have thought of this travesty upon myself hundreds of times since and have felt grateful to have been so early shown how I sounded and appeared to others. I left Haverford College at last after much anguish in cramming for my final examinations, for I was ever some thing of a dullard at study, and I thanked my lucky stars that I should never again have any examinations to pass, little dreaming that before long I would find myself on the way leading to constant examinations before the greatest tribunal imaginable, namely, the great public. That summer of 1876, when I went back to Moores- town after a little travel with young companions, seeing such native beauty as the Hudson and Niagara, I had to face the question of what to do with myself. My par ents being of moderate means it was, of course, necessary THE YOUNG IDEA 21 that I should work for my living. As I had friends who were physicians, I thought I should like to become a doc tor, and therefore visited hospitals with my acquaintances, went through dissecting rooms, and was present at clinics and operations performed upon those suffering from acci dents. The experience of the hospitals was not easy, and that of the dissecting room certainly gruesome; yet be fore long my nostrils became accustomed to the peculiar odor of the dissecting room; but I could not stand seeing operations performed upon mangled humanity, brought into the theatre of the hospital for treatment before the students. I was carried fainting from the place on more than one occasion, to the amusement of those who had already become hardened to the work of mercy. It was therefore presently decided that I had better go into the wool business of my uncle David Scull, founded by his father many years before. And so, at $4 a week, I was put to learning the wool trade, and spent seven years in that establishment at No. 125, Market Street, occupied with the intricacies of my business, both in the office and in the warehouse among the workmen and the bales and fleeces of wool. One morning my uncle David called me into the office and said that he was considering going abroad and wanted my mother and me to go with him; and so early in 1878 I had the good fortune to take this trip. Eight months in Europe to a youth of twenty-one is no light matter, and I look back upon it as being in reality the beginning of my education, for then only was I able to comprehend the value of what I had learned at school and college and be thankful that it was an education classical in character. Few young men had then been 22 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS given the opportunity to leave Quaker Philadelphia and see Europe under conditions as favorable as those I en joyed. We landed in Liverpool and I well remember seeing in the Mersey River that gigantic steamship, the Great Eastern, which had long been used in laying ocean cables. Indeed I had the opportunity of going aboard of her be fore she was broken up and of seeing the tanks in which the cable had been coiled, but which were then devoted to the base uses of circus rings and of what is nowadays called Vaudeville. Great was my delight to discover in the cloister of Ches ter Cathedral the gravestones of monks bearing the name of Bispham. Upon climbing into the belfry tower I found that the oldest and largest bell in the chime had been given it by one William Bispham centuries before, as evidenced by the Latin inscription running around the lip of the bell. Near the Lady Chapel of the Cathedral is also a memorial tablet set into the wall bearing the name of William Bispham, another member of the fam ily, who was born in 1597. This was restored in 1888 by my kinsman, William Bispham of New York. Fascinating it was to me to visit Bispham Hall, that ancient home of my people in Lancashire, a land that had been the cradle of my race. Nowhere in the world could a youth have more thrust upon his receptive mind than during an intelligent visit to England, where we saw most of the celebrated abbeys, castles, and ancient cities, many of which I was afterward to know so well through jour neys taken as a professional singer during my several years' residence in England. On our way from London and Paris to Italy, we vis ited Switzerland, where occurred an incident I shall never THE YOUNG IDEA 23 forget, which was vividly recalled to my mind by events in the late war, when our party, having arrived in the little railway station on the way to Zermatt, left the train in order to take horses which had been ordered for us and which we found waiting. Having arranged my mother's traveling pack upon the saddle of her horse behind the station, and all being ready for our party to go up the valley, I left the animal and went into the station for my mother; but what was my surprise on returning to find a large military German calmly mounting my mother's horse furnished with a sidesaddle, by the way and riding off upon the an imal, from whose back he had taken my mother's travel ing pack and thrown it upon the ground. Of course, all my protests were unavailing. The horseman paid not the slightest heed to me or to the objections of our party; but went on his way with such rejoicing as he may have had in his inward heart, followed as he was by some good Anglo-Saxon talk, which I have no doubt he understood perfectly well. The rigidity of his back as he rode off forced me to think that he was bracing himself against something which was hitting him hard. I was afterward to come into contact with a good many such persons in the course of my professional career, and I have always found it interesting to speculate upon the reasons that cause clever men who ought to know better to do so many obviously disagreeable things. However, that is the way of some people, I suppose. Breeds of men have their manners and customs, just as breeds of dogs have theirs. From Switzerland our little party went down among the Italian lakes, and thence through Verona to Venice and on through other ancient Italian cities to Florence, 24 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS where I was afterward to live for some time, and so to Rome. Beyond the singing of popular songs by street musicians and by gondoliers on the canals of Venice, I heard little music during my early visits to the Land of Song. I did go once to the Costanzi Theatre in Rome to hear Verdi's opera " Don Carlos," too seldom given nowadays, and for reasons I cannot make out. Verdi was identi fied in his younger days with the cause of Italian unity, and his very name was used as a rallying cry, its letters standing for the patriotic toast, " Vittorio Emanuele Re D'ltalia," V-E-R-D-I! But this, and the political opin ions expressed in " Don Carlos," should have no influence on the public to-day. The eminent composer was fond of this opera, issuing a second and even a third edition of it, each time with considerable changes which make it all the better as a work of art. In Roman churches I also heard on festivals the voices of male singers who had been in the Pope's choir at St. Peter's, which had been dispersed among the other churches some time before, where they were to be heard by an admiring public, that would actually applaud well- rendered selections in the masses as if they had been given in the concert room. This seems strange to us of to day, but the period of which I speak is now recognized as having been one in which the music of the Roman Church reached almost its deepest debasement. It was the time when the organist would play such pieces as the " Brindisi " from " Lucrezia Borgia " or " La donna e mobile " from " Rigoletto " at the elevation of the Host. When in Rome, my uncle made up his mind to go to Athens, where I was greatly impressed by the Greek thea tres, cut into the slopes of the Acropolis. Fortunately THE YOUNG IDEA 25 I had read Greek tragedies in college, and so vividly did their stories return to me when treading the stone plat forms from which they were originally delivered, that my natural love for the stage was greatly enhanced. Perhaps without knowing it I inwardly resolved to be come an actor, or a singer; perhaps both. At any rate I felt called to express myself before the public in the high- sounding vocal phrases that I loved so well. Strange to say, the experiences of those days in Athens so power fully affected my mind that my endeavors toward the foundation and maintenance of a Classic Theatre resulted after many years in the building of what is known as the Greek Theatre at the University of California in Berke ley. I had abundant opportunity when in Constantinople of hearing the Turkish music which so unpleasantly assails the ear in the bazaars, clanging instruments and high- pitched voices uttering tuneless phrases. It was indeed strange enough, but it gave me no pleasure whatever, and I was glad to leave early such entertainment as I had attended. Of what Europe calls music there is next to nothing in the Mohammedan religion, and I found none when I attended the service of the Dancing Dervishes. Yet their worship is intended to be a praise of God, by means of such long-continued gyrations as would put almost any athlete to shame. Great was my surprise when those simple, almost Quakerish-looking, men arose from " facing the meeting," exactly as at home in Philadelphia, and started slowly to twirl on their toes about the previously empty floor space between them and the congregation. Fast and faster they turned until their gray and Friendly coat-tails stood 26 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS out from their bodies at right angles, for all the world like ballet dancers' skirts; and, as their motion gradually subsided, the coat-tails assumed a more seemly angle and finally hung down as circumspectly as any well-behaved coat-tails should do. No expression whatever appeared upon the stolid countenances of the worshipers, who seemed to vie with each other in the length of their chor- egraphic exertions. If the service of the Dancing Dervishes is as barren of music and as silent as a Quaker Meeting, the experi ence that I had of the Howling Dervishes was quite the reverse. It was indeed more than barbaric; it was sav age in its intensity. From a latticed balcony we looked down upon a rather large room, the floor of which was bare; in the corner was a raised throne upon which sat one who was evidently a dignitary of the sect. Around the room ran low divans upon which were seated the wor shipers, young, old, and middle-aged, white, black, and tawny. These, excited by the beating of drums and the sounds of a strange chant, and urged on by a leader who arose and went to the middle of the room, finally stood in line with him and went through extreme physical contor tions, loudly chanting the while. One great black eunuch in particular I shall never forget, a giant in physique, who outdid all competitors; yet ultimately puffing and sweat ing, he was himself led from the room rejoicing in the strength that enabled him so to assail Heaven with his cries, and to dance before the Lord in pious orgies. I looked forward to the autumn of that year with any thing but pleasure, for I knew that it would take me back again to the warehouse and office of my good uncle; but I shook from my mind all such unpleasant thoughts as wool fleeces and wool bales, and buying and selling that THE YOUNG IDEA 27 oily but necessary commodity, and gave myself up to the enjoyment of the hour. It is better for us all not to cross bridges until we come to them, but at last I found my way back by way of Marseilles and gay Paris to smoky London, and thus home to what Benjamin Frank lin called " my dear Philadelphia." CHAPTER III MUSIC'S GOLDEN TONGUE There is no truer truth obtainable By man, than comes of music. Robert Browning. DESIRE to enter upon a musical career came to me, I am sure, through the influence of the music I heard in the Episcopal Church at Moorestown, where now and then I went with my father, who sang occasionally in the little choir. The majesty of the pealing organ, played by my grand-aunt Emma Stokes, the choir behind the green baize curtains of the organ loft, the dignity of Doctor Weld with his black gown and snowy sleeves, all so far removed from the simplicity of Friends' Meeting, wrought mightily upon my mind. Yet High Church practices were little known about Philadelphia, and I did not then dream of St. Mark's and my future partici pation in services which might have been Roman Catholic, for all the difference apparent to a casual observer. My uncle John Bispham had given me a zither, on which I had lessons from a German " professor," by oc cupation a saloon-keeper. I had also a few lessons on the guitar from a woman, and I learned to strum on the banjo from my pal Will Chamberlain, who had given me some notion of chords on the piano. His parents were not Quakers; not they! and under their hospitable roof my youthful eyes and ears were opened to many things which the larger world smiles upon. My mother, MUSIC'S GOLDEN TONGUE 29 I am sure, thought all music a wile of the Evil One, the stage a snare for every foot, old or young, and the com bination, as in opera, something too appalling to con template. She had once been to an opera, and the bal let shocked her beyond expression! Yet even as a boy I could not believe there was essen tial wrong in either music or the drama ; the only wrong lay in their debasement, their unworthy presentation or immoderate and inconsiderate use. In this last respect I am in entire agreement with Fox and the early Quakers, who formed their estimates on the excesses of the Res toration Period. I often journeyed from Moorestown to Philadelphia on Saturday, to hear an occasional concert, or perhaps to go to a matinee to see some celebrated actor in a good play; poor music, poor plays, and poor acting I held in as little favor then as I do now. It was at the Academy that my delighted ear first heard " Pat " Gilmore and his band play the u William Tell " overture and similar pop ular music. Theodore Thomas, whom I was afterward to know so well and with whom I was to sing so fre quently, gave me my first acquaintance with the sympho nies of Beethoven, Schubert, and many others. I shall never forget the rhythm in the beat of his right arm or the dignity and grace of the movements of his left hand as he modulated the strains of his orchestra. On summer evenings in Philadelphia I used to listen to such open-air concerts and music as could be found in those days, chiefly in the German districts of the city, where small orchestras were to be heard in the beer gar dens. It was in one of these that I first heard the Hun garian violinist, Remenyi, whose acquaintance I sought. The principal piece that I recall he played was a Hun- 3 o A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS garian gypsy selection, for the adaptation of which he assumed the credit, though he told me with evident vexa tion that a man named Joachim had also made an ar rangement of the same airs, which he was proclaiming all over Europe as the only genuine one. At another concert during this period I heard the fa mous Ole Bull, the diamond in the end of whose violin bow still flashes in my mind's eye. I recall the wizard's slender figure and long white hair and his somewhat an tiquated style of dress coat and neckcloth. Ever since, I have rather curiously connected this vision with Paganini, his world-renowned predecessor. My uncle John also took me to my first opera. How I loved him for it! We heard Clara Louise Kellogg, that charming lady who was to be one of my artistic friends many years later, sing in u Martha " and subse quently in other parts. I shall always remember the ex quisite silvery tones of Joseph Maas, the English tenor whose career was cut short all too soon by death. The operas sung by Miss Kellogg's company, " Mignon," " The Bohemian Girl," " Faust," and kindred works, were done in our good English language, and brought fame to all concerned. I also became well acquainted from the distance of the "peanut" gallery with members of the Richings- Bernard opera company, and I heard the fascinating Zelda Seguin as Carmen, one of the best it has ever been my pleasure to hear, and Charles Santley, the celebrated English barytone, in " Zampa." Who would have thought that I was to have Zelda Seguin acting with me, and be privileged to sing on many a program with Charles Santley? During my years in college, my opportunities for ed- MUSIC'S GOLDEN TONGUE 31 ucation through music and the drama were largely to re main outside the prescribed curriculum. Among the im pedimenta which I took from Moorestown to Haverford was my beloved zither, which I played upon when oc casion offered in spare moments. I had not counted upon the strict authorities at Haverford forbidding such harm less music as was made upon this rather primitive instru ment; but to my great chagrin I was soon informed that music was against the rules, and that if I must needs play at all, I would have to do so off the college grounds. I therefore packed my zither in its little case and took it over to the Haverford station on the Pennsylvania Rail way where, through the kindness of the ticket seller, I was enabled to keep it, and where I went daily to prac tice. I never took it back to the college. Indeed when I began to hear something of other music I deemed prac tice upon it almost a waste of time, it was so limited in its scope ; though for social occasions I was not unwilling to show my skill and perform such selections as I knew at sociables, Sunday-school concerts, and the like, during the holidays when I was entertaining and being enter tained among my young friends. The scarcity of musical opportunities naturally tended to cause me to seek elsewhere that diversion which my nature so craved. As naturally as a duck goes to the water, I endeavored to make the acquaintance of people who were musical. I was advised to go to a large hall in Vine Street where there was a stage upon which a variety performance was carried on during the evening, when Teutonic families gathered for their supper and beer, and where a young German barytone could be heard singing to his own accompaniment at the piano. I often went to hear this singer, Max Heinrich by 32 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS name, and from that remarkable artist obtained my first introduction to the greatest song writers of the world: Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Brahms, while pieces rendered in the English language flashed upon my ear, and all this brought a message new and strange to me. I recognized in it what I needed, and straightway deter mined to make the acquaintance of this Heinrich and to learn from him, if possible, some of the songs which I had heard him sing. This led me into contact with a great artist, from whom I afterward gleaned a knowl edge of many things of value to me in my profession, and I am glad to say that Max Heinrich remained my friend until the day of his death. He told me about his early career he was only a young man himself at the time, and I was but eighteen. He said he had had an opportunity to sing in the Royal Opera at Berlin, that his voice had been brought to the attention of the old Emperor William, and that he had received a command to go and sing in private for his Majesty. He confessed to me, however, that when the evening arrived, he, having pawned his dress coat and be ing unable to find the wherewithal to release it, was playing billiards with some companions when an emis sary came from the Palace looking for Heinrich, and ex citingly demanding his attendance, saying that the Em peror and members of his party were waiting to hear him. Heinrich, however, declined to go, as he was not able to dress for the occasion indeed, he could not be admitted in his ordinary clothes to the presence of royalty in the drawing-room of the Palace. And so, re gretfully and with a shrug of his shoulders, he dismissed the court messenger. But he said to me, " I vas a damned fool, as usual." MUSIC'S GOLDEN TONGUE 33 After that, Heinrich told me, he went concertizing through Germany; made a little money, kept some of it and, after wandering with Hungarian gypsies, he, him self, the most delightfully wandering of all the wanderers, found his way to America about 1873 and deposited what savings he had in the bank of Jay Cooke, which failed soon after, and Heinrich found himself stranded. To keep body and soul together, he sang in the beer hall of which I have spoken. Not long after, Heinrich became the bass soloist in the choir of the Roman Catholic Cathedral on Logan Square, where the organist was Michael H. Cross, whom I after ward knew intimately for many years, and who told me that one day after service a young German came up into the organ loft, asking " Do you vant a singer? " Mr. Cross said, " What can you sing? " He replied, " I vill sing at sight anything you gif me." Cross handed him a difficult barytone solo from a mass, playing the accom paniment, while Heinrich rendered the number to his entire satisfaction, obtaining the position and remaining at the cathedral for several years. Fortunately for me, there came to live at Haverford one Ellis Yarnall and his English wife, a rare couple in deed, whose house was filled with books and pictures, and whose eldest daughter was a good pianist and sang nicely herself. She and her mother introduced me to old Eng lish songs, in which I at once began to revel. I have used them ever since, deeming them to be of the highest qual ity in their class and in no wise inferior to music of other nations merely because they happen to be in the English language and by English composers, who, strangely enough, were not by many persons considered the equals of those born on the other side of the English Channel. 34 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS It turned out that I, who could not be kept away from music, and vocal music in particular, influenced the young men about me who, notwithstanding the fact that they were of Quaker blood, were just as apt to enjoy music and to sing as those who belonged to other religious denominations. A little glee club was formed before I left Haverford and it was but a short time after my grad uation that the authorities, some of the elder of whom had passed away, came to the conclusion that musical in struments might be permitted to the students, who at once began to bring guitars, banjos, and mandolins to the col lege, to the good, I doubt not, of every one of the student body; though music was not taught then at Haverford, nor has it ever become part of the curriculum. Years later I was privileged to give at my Alma Mater several concerts, which were partly made up of the songs I had learned from Max Heinrich and the Yarnalls. These concerts were largely attended and were the first that had ever been heard at Haverford. In that early part of my experience I remember well hearing the celebrated Emma Abbot in u Paul and Vir ginia " and one or two other things. The fact that she introduced " Home, Sweet Home " into any opera at her own sweet will did not interfere with the enjoyment of her performances by the audiences of that time; indeed they rather looked for the familiar strains, expecting them before they wended their way to their own sweet homes. For all my enjoyment of the people that I heard in my youth, nothing could compare with the real thrill that I received one afternoon when, going to one of these very performances, I heard a girl singing up an alley. This unseen, unknown woman had indeed a God-given voice. MUSIC'S GOLDEN TONGUE 35 I was not too young to have heard Brignoli, but some how I never did hear him, though my father often spoke of his silvery tones and of his clumsiness upon the stage, where his gait was said to be so awkward that he once tripped over his own feet and fell down. Backed up against the Twelfth Street Meeting House where I went to school as a child, stands the Roman Cath olic Church of St. John in Thirteenth Street, the organ ist of which was a friend of Brignoli's, who used to go and sing the Offertorium there now and then. It is told that once, the sermon being long and Brignoli perturbed lest he should be late at a luncheon party, the celebrated tenor, after nervously walking up and down the choir loft for some time, suddenly tore aside the curtain and called down to the priest, who had not yet finished his discourse, " Stop-a de preach! Stop-a de preach ! Ising-anow!" And the mandate of the eccentric singer was duly obeyed and the song sung. There are so many instances of eccentricity among art ists that the world at large is not far wrong in consider ing that some of them may be not quite compos mentis, as the Latins would say. Indeed the fine old basso, Cas- telmary, said to me one day toward the close of his career at Covent Garden, where I was just beginning my own, " How are you to-day, my dear? " and tapping my head with his forefinger he questioned, u Just a leetle mad, eh? Just a leetle mad?" I suppose he wanted to know where he stood with me, as he was the regisseur of the company and I was plunging in " where angels feared to tread " ; such an act could but be, to him, that of a madman. Madame Titjens I heard but once, and nothing re mains in my memory of the sound of her voice; I can 36 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS only recall her enormous figure. My sense of hearing seemed to have been blotted out by that of sight. Long after Christine Nilsson had left the operatic stage I used to meet her socially in London. She had become too portly to adore, though her voice was said to have retained all its power and beauty. During my early manhood I had heard her in " Faust " and I was once taken behind the scenes to the greenroom at the Acad emy of Music in Philadelphia by a friend of the great prima donna, to whom I was introduced. She was no longer appearing in opera and was singing in what was one of her last concerts in America. Nilsson was still superb of figure and looked most regal in a purple velvet gown with a long train. I be lieve she was of peasant origin, though she was said to be patrician, but I had never seen such extremes of behavior as in that few minutes before she was called on the stage about the middle of the program. During the intermission she had been conversing in a dignified manner with a group of friends. When she was told that the time had come for her to sing, she suddenly turned upon her accompanist and gave him such a blow upon his back with her hand that it nearly prostrated the little man, saying with a loud laugh, " Come along, what are you standing there for? " She proceeded from the greenroom to the stage, I walking close behind her. Just as she stepped into view of the audience her train caught upon a nail in the floor and in one instant she had turned and was tearing at it with the ferocity of a tigress. Seeing the trouble, I was fortunately able to disengage her dress from the obstacle, when she, with instantaneous composure, walked upon the stage like a queen. MUSIC'S GOLDEN TONGUE 37 That same greenroom is still adorned with litho graphed portraits and photographs of all of the artists whom I saw and heard in my youth, but I have never en tered this room nor gone upon that stage without thinking of that afternoon, to me so memorable, when I first came into anything like personal contact with a great represen tative of the lyric profession. CHAPTER IV THE WORLD'S A STAGE That noise or sound which musicians make while they are in tuning their instruments ... is nothing pleasant to hear, but yet is a cause why the music is sweeter afterwards/ Bacon. MY father had decided that I ought to see Edwin Booth in " Hamlet," somewhat against the wishes of my mother, on condition that I should read the play. This I made haste to do, needless to say. My imagination had already been stirred by the visit of a traveling troupe to Moorestown and I remember to this day the villain, the lover, and the bee-yoo-ty-ful lady of the piece. I had also been taken surreptitiously to enjoy the gorgeous- ness of a Christmas pantomime, but I think my mother never found this out. It was at the Walnut Street Theatre that I had the never-to-be-forgotten experience of hearing and seeing Edwin Booth. I say " hearing " advisedly, for I as dis tinctly recall the melody of his voice and his perfect diction as I do the beauty of his figure and face. On that stage I afterward saw Mr. Booth in several parts, when I grew older and my mother ceased objecting to what she could not very well control. It was there, too, that I saw Charlotte Cushman, Ristori, Lawrence Bar rett, John McCullough, a Philadelphian, and the lovely Adelaide Neilson, whose methods more nearly matched those of Booth than those of any one else I have ever seen or known of. THE WORLD'S A STAGE 39 The Philadelphia public never needed to be treated with such consideration as that of Boston. There fash ionable folk would attend nothing that called itself a thea tre, but came later to patronize the company of eminent actors that flourished for so many years at the Boston Museum. And it not only had to call itself a " museum " to secure the attendance of respectable people, but it had to have enough museum curiosities, however incongruous, to justify the name. I had cousins and friends in my native city who did not approve of the theatre, and yet would induce me to go with them to the negro minstrels. I laughed heartily then, as I have done since, at the stories told by the black- faced comedians; but what I truly enjoyed was the har monious chorus-singing of those men. Such antics upon the stage as by many are considered nothing worse than innocent merriment, I am still Quaker enough to think a serious waste of time and money, and I marveled in my boyhood, as I do now, at the state of mind which approves of negro minstrels and variety shows and disapproves of some fine legitimate drama well played by an accredited company of actors. Philadelphia, notwithstanding the number of Quaker families, gave good support to such play-houses as the Walnut Street and Arch Street Theatres, at the latter of which Mrs. John Drew and her husband, surrounded by a distinguished company, played for many years. It is not strange, considering my upbringing, that, as a boy, I never met John Drew the younger, or any of his family. One of my uncles lived near them; but they were classed among " people of the world," and, being " actor-folks " besides, did not come within the social scope of my strict-principled relations. John Drew went 40 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS to school at the Episcopal Academy in Locust Street, we grew up and were educated only a stone's throw apart, and yet, though in after years we learned that we had many friends in common, in our boyhood we never met. My father knew the Drews and, as he used to tell me, had the entree of their theatre, though he never made use of it. In my father's library were many volumes of English plays which I read with avidity, and in Tenth Street near Chestnut stood the Mercantile Library. Upon the ground floor of this building there was about midway along the reading room on the north wall a section de voted to dramatic literature. After hearing Edwin Booth, Madame Ristori, and the few other great players whom I remember as a boy, I often went there to spend hours, standing before these shelves with the biographies of David Garrick, Edmund Kean, Macready, or the Kem- bles in my hands, reveling in the plays of the theatre and the romances of real life that clustered about the ro mances of fancy. This was to me a magic country indeed, and from it came a clear call in a voice akin to that of music. These two voices joining in a fascinating duo, as it were, sum moned me to join the circle haunted by the shades of those long gone, though as yet nothing was further from my mind than an actual association with those whose ac quaintances I was then making, in an artistic way, across the footlights. During these times I saw the visiting actors, Barry Sullivan and Charles Fechter. Years later Fechter toured America, when I heard him read the play of " Hamlet." He had a slight German accent that was soon forgotten and I have always remembered with great THE WORLD'S A STAGE 41 interest not only his rendering of the title role, but of the minor characters of the play which so frequently are obliged to suffer at the hands of artists of quality inferior to that of the star. But Fechter rendered all the parts superbly, especially that of the King, whose soliloquies he gave with great effect and whose mental anguish he depicted in a manner that I have never seen equaled. About this time, too, Edwin Booth and Lawrence Bar rett, as Brutus and Cassius respectively, toured the coun try and performed " Julius Caesar," with a cast and in a manner always to be remembered by any one who had the fortune to see the tragedy with so many well-chosen men in the principal parts. E. L. Davenport afterward assumed the part of Bru tus, and it is no treason to say that I preferred him in that character to Booth who, to my mind, lacked the physical and vocal power at that stage of his life to give the noble lines their requisite weight. Another heroic figure upon the stage of my early man hood was F. C. Bangs, whom I vividly remember as Mark Antony with Booth, and in the sumptuous revival of Byron's " Sardanapalus," in which he was magnificent. From hearing such plays as these I was beginning to appreciate the value of our admirable language, when so ably rendered as it was by these distinguished men. The first time that I was ever in love with an actress was when I saw the wonderful Adelaide Neilson in some of her Shakesperian characters, notably as Viola and as Juliet. But my interest in this woman was really more intellectual than physical. Lovely as she undoubtedly was in face and figure, her voice was more entrancing than that of any actress I remember, while her diction was absolutely perfect. Had the phonograph been in- 42 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS vented in her day the subsequent generations would in deed have had an object lesson in the correct use of the English language. With her played the beautiful Jack Barnes, as manly a figure in Romeo and other parts as one could wish to see, and a perfectly fitting companion upon the stage to even so great a woman as Miss Neilson. While I still lived in Moorestown and before I grad uated from college I met at an evening party two tal ented young men, Robert and William Neilson ; both were lawyers and graduates of the University of Pennsylvania ; and both were excellent musicians, playing the piano and singing on the evening in question with light tenor voices, in a beautiful manner, selections from the earlier operas of Gilbert and Sullivan and of Offenbach. When I came to live in Philadelphia and mingle in the musical and dramatic circles I naturally sought, I fell in again im mediately with " Billy " Neilson, whose remarkable abil ity as a comedian caused him to be in demand in all amateur theatricals that went on in our city, and it was not long before he enlisted my services also, in plays and operettas given at the Amateur's Drawing-Room in Sev enteenth Street above Chestnut, now occupied by a branch Post-Office. One summer during my holiday in New York, I re member visiting the delightful little Madison Square Theatre in Twenty-fourth Street, west of Broadway, where upon its elevator stage I saw a charming perform ance of Frances Hodgson Burnett's play u Esmeralda," which I had already read in the magazine where it first was published, and in which I longed to play the part of the old man. Indeed, from that time I realized that I was fitted for character parts, and when soon after I saw Charles Wolcot as the French professor in " To Parents and Guardians," more than ever was I determined to THE WORLD'S A STAGE 43 emulate the example of this admirable artist, and, if I ever did go on the stage, to play such parts as he per formed so truthfully. Wolcot could do anything from farce to tragedy and was one of the most accomplished actors I ever saw. It was not long before I found myself performing with my friend Billy Neilson in a variety of pieces at the Ama teur's Drawing-Room, and as a member of the Pilgrims Dramatic Society at the Working Men's Club in German- town, which had an excellent auditorium and stage. After assisting in various minor affairs I had the op portunity of singing in " Golden-haired Gertrude," an op eretta by Miss Elinor Parrish, in the author's private house, a performance so successful that it was repeated at the Amateur's Drawing-Room on the evening of Mon day, December 27, 1880, really my first appearance be fore the public in a work of this nature. This was soon followed by Arthur Sullivan's musical adaptation of Bur- nand's old play called " Cox and Box," with Billy and Robert Neilson in the cast with me, and this I repeated the next summer at the opening of the ballroom at Rodick's Hotel in Bar Harbor. Neilson was the printer; I was Cox the hatter, and Bouncer was admirably performed by Elliott Pendleton of Cincinnati. We finished the evening with W. S. Gilbert's delightful comedy " Sweethearts," in which I was the gardener, while the young lover, who is many years older in the second act, was well done by Reginald de Koven, already known as the composer of ex cellent songs. It is pleasant to remember him in those days as being so much in demand in social and musical cir cles, not only because he played his own compositions so well on the piano but because he was even then recog nized, by those who knew, as having a fresh touch which 44 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS was soon to leave its mark upon the music of the day. I was fast making up my mind at that time that busi ness, other than theatrical or musical, was not for me; but I did not yet see my way toward the leaving of it. My uncle was doing his best to interest me, though I fear he must have been sadly disappointed when he found my real thought wandering so far from the occupation he had planned, for like the stenographer of a friend of mine, I did not let my work interfere with what I was thinking about. During this time I was, indeed, too busy with the musical and dramatic activities of the various clubs to which I belonged to do much more than learn my numer ous parts. My own share of them possesses a certain interest in showing how much stage experience I was gaining. I played in " Nan, the Good-for-Nothing " ; as the hus band in "A Husband in Clover"; as Sir Bloomfield Brambleton in "Who's Who"; as Sir Charles Seymour in " A Cup of Tea " ; as Colonel Berners in " Cut Off With a Shilling"; as General von Rosenberg in "Her Bitterest Foe "; as Jeremy Crow in " Meg's Diversion "; as Mr. Babblebrook in u A Lesson in Love "; as Doctor Fleming in " Weak Woman "; as Lord Touchstone Pep per in " A Reformer in Ruffles "; as Hawkesley in " Still Waters Run Deep"; appearing also in William Dean Howells's " The Parlor Car " and " The Postal Card," and taking the part of Sir Peter Teazle in a scene from " The School for Scandal." After singing as Pigeon in " Golden-haired Gertrude," already mentioned, I sang also the Foreman of the Jury in Gilbert and Sullivan's "Trial by Jury"; in "The Sorcerer," by the same brilliant collaborators; as Griddly THE WORLD'S A STAGE 45 in Offenbach's " Sixty-Six," and in " Choufleuri," by the same composer. Most memorable to me of all these varied activities upon which my youthful energy was ex pended was my taking the part of the Apothecary in the remarkable travesty of " Romeo and Juliet " given at the Germantown Opera House on Friday evening, April 4, 1882, for the benefit of the Young America Cricket Club, and on other occasions also. Written by Charles C. Soule of St. Louis and first presented before the Univer sity Club of that city five years previously, its undergrad uate buoyancy and witty rhymed dialogue secured from Horace Howard Furness, the distinguished editor of the Variorum Shakespeare, the high praise of being the best travesty of Shakespeare within his wide and profound knowledge. During one of the performances I distinctly remember seeing my good friend, Mrs. Caspar Wister, the novelist, in the front row in company with her brother Doctor Furness, who was evidently amused by the performance, to which he listened with the aid of his ear trumpet, for he was, even at that time, growing very deaf. The morning after, I received a letter from him asking me, if possible, to procure for him a copy of the libretto of our play in order that he might keep it in his famous collection of Shakespeareana. In his library at his house in Wallingford, Pennsylvania, he showed it to me years afterward, and I have seen the same book more than once in the same collection, now in Philadelphia, which was in herited by his son. My own collection of memorabilia numbers by this time many volumes, and in looking these over I find that during the course of those years of unconscious prepara tion, I had arrived by way of sociables, reading circles, 46 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS music with my father, and through affairs at college, to the little plays and operettas that I have mentioned; and through these, by degrees, to more important plays and more important music. As I look at it now from a distance, such means of ac quiring a knowledge of the stage and music as a profes sion is not by any means one to be followed by every other person; but it happens to have been what I did, and it led me to a professional life. CHAPTER V STEPPING-STONES Music strikes in me a deep fit of devotion, and a profound contempla tion of the First Composer. There is something in it of Divinity more than the ear discovers. Sir Thomas Browne. DURING all this time of activities upon the amateur stage, though most of my parts were spoken, it must not be supposed that my prime devotion to music fell into abeyance. On the contrary, as it was amateur singing that led to acting, so in the years soon to come it was my preparation for singing in oratorio that led me to the final combination of singing and acting on the operatic stage. While I was in my uncle's wool house, I sought and found a vocal teacher, Edward Giles, an admirable basso, holding a position as organist in one of the city church choirs. To him I went frequently, using either my lunch hour or skipping off a little earlier in the afternoon and having a lesson with him before going home to supper. The drudgery of the wool business, which caused me to be at the store by eight o'clock, was wonderfully miti gated by the thought of the joy that would presently be mine, when I should be able to quit for the day and learn the great parts written by Handel, Haydn, and others of the master musicians. Through Mr. Giles I was introduced to Michael Cross, the organist of the cathedral where Max Heinrich sang, and I soon became a member of the Orpheus Club, an ag- 47 48 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS grcgation of men with good voices who were glad to come together on Monday evenings to practice glees and part songs under the leadership of Cross, an enthusiast about such music. I lived through the week in anticipa tion of the rehearsals for these concerts, three of which were given at Musical Fund Hall each season. This was the room in which Jenny Lind had sung when visiting Philadelphia, and she had then declared it one of the most perfect auditoriums in which she had ever lifted up her exquisite voice. My father and his sister had heard her and were never tired of speaking of the beauty of her singing. It appears that the crowds that assembled to hear her were so great that request was made in the newspapers that ladies should come with out their crinolines in order that more persons might be seated in the hall. Not until long after my younger days did people tire of speaking of Jenny Lind and the beauty of her art, only eclipsed by the later appearance of Adelina Patti. When a girl Patti had been a good deal in Philadelphia, where her kinsman Ettore Barili had been her master and was still teaching the art of singing. I was afterward to meet Madame Patti, and also Jenny Lind, when the latter was an old woman, a few years before her death. Michael Cross became my musical guide, philosopher and friend, and as I was so keen about the rehearsals of the Orpheus Club he suggested that I should join the Arion, a similar club, holding its rehearsals and con certs in Germantown. I also belonged to a Madrigal Society and an Oratorio Society, the Cecilian, all under the direction of Cross, and about a year after I returned from Europe I found myself in the midst of musical af fairs in Philadelphia, rehearsing under Cross's baton STEPPING-STONES 49 several times each week, and at the concerts of his clubs at least fifteen times a year. The more I sang the bet ter I liked it and the less interest I had in business, which notwithstanding I stuck to for seven years. It was because of my evidently serious interest in the art that Cross invited me to become a volunteer member of his new choir at Holy Trinity Church, Rittenhouse Square, where I sang from 1879 to 1882; and I am sorry that no particulars of the work done there have been kept. Suffice it to say that while Cross did not indulge in the more classical music of the Roman Catholic Church, yet in the quite " low " service of Holy Trinity he was able to use much of that of the Church of England, with which I became acquainted for the first time. I soon became a proficient reader of vocal music, and was learning to play well upon the instrument called the human voice; though my unwieldy fingers would accom modate themselves to the keys of the piano as little as ever. Nearly every Saturday for several years I spent the evening at Cross's listening to him and his associates playing string quartettes, and though I could do nothing but admire their performances, I devoted myself with the greater assiduity to the cultivation of the gift which Heaven had been pleased to bestow upon me, studying enthusiastically with Cross the bass and barytone roles in the best oratorios. Frequently in those days I met Max Heinrich who heard me sing such songs as " The Erl King " and " The Two Grenadiers " ; but, as he afterward confessed, he did not think I could ever make anything of myself as a singer. On one occasion I had the opportunity of meeting Ulysses S. Grant. The Orpheus Club sang at a reception 50 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS given him in the galleries of the Academy of Fine Arts, and I was presented to the distinguished soldier-citizen. The chief hostess of the occasion, turning to the Presi dent and indicating with a wave of her hand the assembled men of the Orpheus Club, said, " And now, Mr. Presi dent, what would you like these gentlemen to sing for you?" Grant, in his blunt and rather callous way, re plied, " Anything you please, madame; I don't know one note from another." We sang none the better, I sup pose, for knowing that the guest of the occasion had no enjoyment in our performance ; however, we sang for the President of the United States, and that was something. The whole neighborhood of the city where I daily worked was full of historic memories. Old Christ Church, which Washington used to attend when he lived in Philadelphia, was just around the corner in Second Street, and though many memories of the past smiled upon me as I went to and fro in the Philadelphia streets, yet I did not consider in my youth the possibility of meet ing face to face persons of prominence in my later life. To my delight I frequently had the pleasure of seeing the aged poet Walt Whitman as he walked past our place of business in his shapeless shoes and light tweed suit of no cut at all, several buttons of his waistcoat open, and what was apparently his nightshirt, with its collar lying loose over that of his coat, likewise open at the neck and showing his gray and hairy breast. Crowning a superb and rather massive Homeric-looking head was a broad, light felt slouch hat. Thus Whitman proceeded in serene indifference to the attention of passers-by, who would almost have stared him out of countenance had he deigned to notice them. My native city had in those times two Episcopal STEPPING-STONES 51 churches where the services were very " high " : St. Clem ent's, which, but for the English language used, might as well have been a Roman church for all I could see, and St. Mark's, where the English organist, Minton Pyne, invited me to become a member of his choir, offering me at the same time a moderate salary to insure my attend ance. I accepted with pleasure, feeling that it might be the stepping-stone to something more than the $6 a week I was now getting in my uncle's office. I, therefore, donned the cassock and cotta and for about four years partici pated in most of the music rendered by that vested choir. Several of its members were English singers who had been brought up in cathedrals in their mother country and knew well the kind of music performed at St. Mark's Church. The weekly rehearsals were long and arduous, but none the less interesting, as they introduced me to a phase of the art which so far I had not known. The first program I have of services in St. Mark's Church is that of Easter Day, 1882. After a year or more, upon the departure of our English precentor, his mantle fell upon me, and I rejoiced in lifting up my voice in this kind of praise to the Power who had bestowed upon me the gift for which I was becoming increasingly thank ful. Minton Pyne had been a pupil of the great organist S. S. Wesley of Gloucester Cathedral, and had brought with him to America the very best churchly traditions. To him I owe a debt of gratitude for the great assistance he was to me in my musical life in introducing me to so many of the finest sacred works, such as the Masses of Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert, which were constantly rendered by us, in addition to the noblest of English music. Simultaneously I belonged for about four years to the 52 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS Cecilian Oratorio Society, and assisted as one of the basses of the chorus in the productions of "The Messiah, " " Israel in Egypt," " Judas Maccabaeus," and " Samson " by Handel; in " The Creation " and " The Seasons " by Haydn; in "Elijah," " St. Paul," and "The Hymn of Praise " by Mendelssohn; the " Passion Music "by Bach; the " Odysseus " and " Frithjof " by Bruch; the " Stabat Mater" by Rossini; "The Redemption," " Mors et Vita," and " Gallia " by Gounod, and the oratorio " Moses in Egypt " by Rossini. At last I became proficient enough and well enough known as an amateur soloist to be asked by the com mittee to sing some of the smaller bass solo parts, which, of course, I was only too proud to be able to assume. I find, for instance, from the programs before me, that at the Academy of Music in March, 1883, I sang the part of the Steersman in Max Bruch's " Odysseus " to the Ulysses of Heinrich; and on March 12, 1885, I took the part of Judas, Peter, and the High Priest in Bach's St. Matthew " Passion Music," while Max Heinrich sang the part of Christ. This was my first appearance as a soloist in any large public way in oratorio; and on April 9, 1886, I sang the part of the bass Narrator in Gounod's " Redemption," again with Heinrich as Christ. I was beginning grad ually to get my musical feet under me. Somewhere along in these years Theodore Thomas issued a call to members of all oratorio societies to come to New York to assist there in a Festival, to take place at the Seventh Regiment Armory. I went from Phil adelphia with most of the members of the Cecilian and sang in Handel's " Israel in Egypt," thus performing for the first time under the baton of one whom I so revered and whom I was to know so well in later life. STEPPING-STONES 53 On this occasion that noble singer, Myron Whitney, of Boston was one of the basses, and I shall never forget the singing of his part in " The Lord is a Man of War." I had admired Whitney from the first time I ever heard him, at the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia on May 10, 1876, when in the open air before a vast concourse of people, he held his own superbly in the bass part in " The Centennial Cantata," by Dudley Buck. Whitney was an ideal oratorio singer and, better than any one I ever heard, except Santley, could negotiate the runs required of the Handelian singer, as well as the dramatic rendering of its recitative, in which so few are acceptable. Some years ago the late Gustave Kobbe, he, perhaps somewhat my senior, in speaking of those times of our youth, said, " I have a story of you which I doubt if you have ever heard"; and proceeded to tell me that he, too, was in business in Philadelphia when young, and that one morning while he was talking to an elderly Friend, I went by, humming what seemed to be a vocal exercise. The elderly Friend stopped in his conversa tion and pointed to me as I passed, saying: " Does thee see that young man going along there singing? Well, he is the grandson of an old friend of mine, but I tell thee he isn't going to come to any good, for he is always fooling around after music." I have thought often since of Kobbe's story and how essential it is for a person in order to make a success in anything to be always thinking of it and doing it, as far as lies in his power, and not to fool around after it. Music is not only a fine art but a science, and should be learned scientifically and accurately. Otherwise it amounts to next to nothing and is likely to lead to the 54 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS stupid waste of time against which my Quaker ancestors so feelingly inveighed. As a matter of fact I was trying to master one of those Handelian passages I had just heard Whitney sing. I thought more of that than of my raise to an $8 weekly wage. CHAPTER VI DECISION The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ; And feeling hearts touch them but rightly pour A thousand melodies unfelt before. Rogers. HIGH aspiration and some little accomplishment in music; lack of ambition and no accomplishment in com merce ; these two phrases well express my groping toward the pathway of a career in those days. The work of Sir George Grove, editor of the Dictionary of Music and Musicians and director of the Royal College of Music in London, had long attracted me. I wrote him for a prospectus of his institution, fondly hoping to prepare myself there for a professional career. To my chagrin the prospectus informed me that I was already too old to enter its classes. As there was no source of informa tion nearer than London, I wrote Sir George again, stat ing my case. A prompt answer contained an introduc tion to his friend Georg Henschel, conductor of the newly founded Boston Symphony Orchestra. By appointment I went to Boston, soon to find myself standing before the famous singer, whom I had so often admired in my native city. No one could have been kinder than Henschel, but I found myself afflicted with a bad case of stage fright and he, realizing how little justice I was doing myself, asked me to return the next day when, after another hour of song and conversation with him, I felt much more at my ease. 55 56 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS After full inquiry into my experience and capabilities he told me, to my keen disappointment, that he thought them quite inadequate as a basis for professional work, for what I had done had been done entirely as an amateur and without serious study. I was listening to an ac complished pianist, conductor, composer, and singer. I could not play the piano. I had never conducted. I could not compose, but I thought I could sing. Henschel, however, told me that though I had a good natural voice, my inability to play the piano left it fairly impossible for me to learn even a little of the music I must know if I wished to take up a singer's career with any reasonable hope of success. Disappointed as I was, I nevertheless determined from that night to be a singer. So far as my inability to play the piano was concerned, most of the singers I had heard could not play and had been ac companied by some one else. What audience ever knew what a singer's pianistic talents might be? Its judgment is based on the beauty of his voice and the interest he arouses by his songs and his singing. I decided never again to waste time by touching a piano, but to devote myself all the more to the cultivation of my voice, and thereafter sought the assistance of those who played the piano well, and with their aid I worked up a repertory of classical songs such as I had often heard Henschel, Heinrich and others perform and which I knew I, too, could sing. Among operatic artists I took as models the barytones Galassi and Del Puente; the former possessing, in a somewhat lighter voice, the grand manner which I so admired in the oratorio singing of Myron Whitney; the latter, the same delightful verve and animation I so enjoyed in the work of Max Heinrich. DECISION 57 There were a number of musicians in the social circles of Philadelphia who had a marked influence upon my ca reer; through them I joined a coterie of amateurs which led to my acquaintance with many persons whom I might not otherwise have known, and certainly gave me an op portunity to sing as often as I cared to. I may say frankly that I was in demand for my vocal solos; my enthusiasm being such as to win the confidence of my associates. I was fast becoming enamored of music, not only as a pleasurable thing, but as a means of mak ing a livelihood not afforded by the wool business, where by this time I was getting as much as $10 a week, which I frankly confess I did not deserve, and where as time went on I was rapidly demonstrating my unfitness for such work as I had to do. My thoughts were never upon it for one moment; I was always living in the past and hoping for the future. Each musical evening was a fresh inspiration for me ; each concert in which I took part I looked upon as a higher rung on the ladder. Temporarily abandoning business in 1885, I revisited Europe, steeping my heart as well as my head in the beauty and mystery of art, my whole nature yearning toward a public career. What was almost a loathing filled me at the thought of the fleecy treasure at home which so wholly failed to capture my imagination. I was longing for the time to come when, if I returned to America, it would be not for business, but to mingle once more with my companions of the musical circles which I had enjoyed so greatly, the professionals, amateurs and dilettanti, association with whom, indeed, made up my real life. While abroad I had heard opera in London, attended concerts, and on one occasion became a volunteer 58 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS member of the giant chorus at the Handel Festival at the Crystal Palace under the conductorship of August Manns. This participation in " The Messiah " was ef fected by means of the not unknown course called bribery; an attendant yielding to the lure of half a sovereign to let me in among the basses. I heard opera in Paris, in Milan, and in Rome. Nat urally enough I was impressed more by the performances I heard at Bayreuth than by any other operatic function which I had ever attended. The singing of Rosa Sucher, then in her prime, stands out in my memory beyond any thing else. Isolde in her hands became the acme of operatic grace and intensity; she seemed to me even to surpass Lilli Lehmann in that particular character. Gura was, to my mind, the finest Hans Sachs I had ever heard, while Friedrichs as Beckmesser was unap proachable. Though I laughed at Beckmesser I longed to sing the melodious and gracious vocal passages al lotted to Sachs, and heard " Die Meistersinger " often. On returning to Philadelphia in the autumn of 1885 I again attempted to take up a business career, not this time in my uncle's establishment, though offered an ad vance of $2 a week, but as a clerk in the Lehigh Valley Railway office, the examination for which I was barely able to pass. I received there something like $12 a week, I think, for doing nothing that I liked, and doing that badly, with the prospect of $14 five years after ward, if I could pass the further examinations required. The thought of this was enough, and I immediately determined to get away as soon as I could, making plans to return to Europe and study there with the distinct in tention of becoming a singer in oratorio and concert. I had not yet learned a single operatic role for profes- DECISION 59 sional use, aware as I was of my mother's aversion to such a career. I thought she was wrong, yet respected her wishes. Beyond a few operatic arias which I used occasionally in concert, I had no acquaintance whatever with operatic literature, except as I had heard it from the seats of an opera house. If I had been preparing for anything, it was for concert and oratorio. During the winter I resumed my attendance upon the rehearsals of my musical clubs and went on as before as precentor of St. Mark's Choir. These for a time suf ficed to give me all the vocal exercise I could spare from my business and social life. I returned to Europe in the spring of 1886, severing at that time all immediate connections with Philadelphia for many years. Indeed, it was a full decade before I appeared again in my native city. Crossing to Europe for the third time I met on board the steamer the well-known Chicago singing teacher, Frank Baird, a pupil of William Shakespeare of London; meeting this great master soon after my arrival I felt that I could do no better than entrust my musical and vocal education to so eminent an authority. I cannot be sufficiently thankful for the good fortune which thus brought me into contact with so fine a man, so admirable a musician, and a teacher who was also a singer. During his time at the Royal Academy of Music in London he had won the Mendelssohn scholarship, and at first intended to make a career as a concert pianist, but finding that his own beautiful tenor voice was developing, he began to study with the elder Lamperti in Milan, and upon returning to London one Sunday, as he told me, he found a letter addressed to him in an emergency and almost at the last moment from the committee of one of 60 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS the festivals, requesting him to assume an important part in a work with which he was entirely unfamiliar. Being an excellent reader he was able to go immediately to the dress rehearsal, where he carried through his part with out a mistake, a feat the accomplishment of which would have been almost impossible to any one else in England. This led to Mr. Shakespeare's frequent engagement as tenor at the principal English musical festivals. His taste did not, however, lead him to enjoy public singing; and, as his voice was very light in quality, it was not long before he gave up all participation in concerts and de voted his entire time to teaching. It was at this period that I fell in with the master whose name, of course, had attracted me. As I learned from himself he came from the Warwickshire family from which the dramatist had sprung; indeed " Shakey," as we called him, bore a marked resemblance to the bust of Shakespeare in the church at Stratf ord-on-Avon ; yet he laid no claim to direct descent from the poet, and was quick to laugh out of court the Teutonic contention that he was of German origin. Shakespeare's name as a teacher is quite as highly thought of and as widely known in the United States as it is in England, where he had many competitors, and where his musicianly and extremely careful method of teaching was less the vogue than that preferred by many artists who sought the advice of masters who were not themselves vocalists, who did not know the classics well, whose stock in trade was the popular ballads of the day. Shakespeare, on the contrary, inculcated a love for the classics, and nothing else found acceptance in his studio. Having taught his pupils how to sing, he edu cated them in the literature of song, and in the manner of DECISION 61 rendering such selections as fitted their individual voices. In fact he taught us the three essentials: how to sing, what to sing, and how to sing it ! Informing Shakespeare of my intention to study in Italy for the concert stage in England, he urged me to study there with him at once. I preferred, however, to do as I had planned, and I am glad that I did so, de sirous as I was to obtain more knowledge of French, German, and Italian. At the Birmingham Festival, before leaving England, I met B. J. Lang, the celebrated conductor of Boston. I had known him in America and he had heard that I in tended to make a career of music. At that time grand opera was looming large in New York, and he greeted me with the question, " Why have you chosen oratorio? " I explained to him that I knew no opera, owing to my mother's dislike of that phase of music. But he still persisted, assuring me that opera was the thing. " Oratorio," said he, u is only opera spoiled." Amus ing and possibly true; but according to my wont, after satisfying myself as to the right course to pursue, despite Mr. Lang's and Shakespeare's advice, I went my way to Florence, where I put myself under Maestro Vannuccini. CHAPTER VII SERIOUS STUDY BEGINS For sure no minutes bring us more content Than those in pleasing, useful studies spent. John Pomfret. WHEN the celebrated actor Sir Johnston Forbes- Robertson was last in America, he reminded me of my visit to him in England in 1886. After forwarding a let ter of introduction, I had called at his studio he is a painter as well as an actor telling him during our con versation that I was about to go to Italy, but would before long appear upon the boards in London. He lis tened attentively and assured me that I should not find it an easy thing to do. He had been upon the stage since his youth, had mingled with artists and with the most distinguished actors and musicians of his day; he had lately been taken into Henry Irving' s company, where he was highly esteemed; and yet he was far from stand ing where he wished to be. Referring to that time he said: " I thought when you had gone : * Poor fool ! he little knows what there is in store for him, brought up in Philadelphia with no musical or artistic antecedents, not being able to play the piano, knowing no one and having no pull in London; yet he is going to try it. Poor fool ! ' Turning to some one who sat with us, he suddenly said, " Yet, by gad, he came back and did it! " As a matter of fact, that is what happened. 62 SERIOUS STUDY BEGINS 63 Five years from that time I was back in London and on the stage under the best of auspices; and that is why this book is being written, for I want those who follow me to know just how it came about that I have accomplished whatever I have done, and to realize that nothing can be done at all unless one sets out to do it oneself, relying upon nobody at all, yet scorning no assistance. Every aid for advancement must, of course, be seized, but for all the aid that may be extended, no one can accomplish anything if he himself lacks the inner urge that animates all who do things in the world, even to the salmon that rush against the current up the most torrential streams, struggling through rapids, leaping waterfalls. Though thousands die in the attempt, yet some succeed and get to the wished-for haven and spawning ground, where they are at peace. Thus they accomplish what the inner im pulse of their nature prompts them to do, and by paths they know not, through ways never traversed before, they reach their goal through the guidance of that Providence to whom the rise of the artist and the fall of the sparrow are one. Upon leaving London I went to Florence by way of San Remo on the Italian Riviera, and there, on Ash Wednesday in the spring of 1887, occurred one of those dreadful convulsions of nature that leave puny man weak, trembling, and helpless before the majesty of Nature and the power of Nature's God. Never shall I forget the horror of being aroused in the early morning by the whole earth quaking in a manner that reminded me of nothing so much as a dog shaking a rat to death. Imagine the Hound of Heaven with the earth in His teeth 1 Thousands of persons were killed or maimed for life 64 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS in those two shocks, which took place about five minutes apart and reduced to ruin scores of villages which had for centuries withstood the ravages of time. For tunately, my hotel was strongly built and suffered no material damage. But how heart-rending it was to see, as I did upon the relief expeditions in which I took part, the ruined towns surrounded by mediaeval walls, still standing to be sure, but concealing behind their ramparts and ancient defenses the havoc wrought among the de fenseless ! In most of these places the devout had been at early mass, during which the earthquake shook the churches so dreadfully that the heavy masonry of the roofs fell in, burying the congregations, though leaving the priest unhurt beneath the half dome over the chancel. In one place I remember the story of an aged cleric, who stood serene, and lifted up his voice among the shrieks of the dying and injured, saying, " My children, I baptized you when you entered this sinful world, I now absolve you as you leave it for Paradise." I have loved Italy from the time I first visited it and am particularly fond of the Italian Lakes ; indeed who is not? The Plains of Lombardy had a fascination for me so great that it seemed as if I had frequented that part of the world in some former state of existence. I fancy that every one feels that he should like to be in that locality for ever, and therefore has a sort of reflex mental action; for many consider they have been there before. On the day of my arrival in Florence I noticed a tall old man, bare-headed and with flowing hair and beard, carrying a beautiful little girl upon his shoulder as he went about the streets. Every one turned to look at the quaint but charming sight of the happy child and the equally happy grandfather, who turned out to be the SERIOUS STUDY BEGINS 65 well-known American song writer, George F. Root, au thor of " The Battle Cry of Freedom " and other Civil War songs. Into the American Colony at Florence I was soon in troduced, to meet among others the novelist Constance Fenimore Woolson, a niece -of Fenimore Cooper; F. Marion Crawford, the writer of romance; William Cooper, the sculptor, whose wife was a brilliant musician; and her father, Thomas Ball, also a distinguished sculptor. These friends lived on the hill a little back of Michael Angelo's statue of " David," and it was at their house that I renewed the acquaintance of Salvini, that mighty actor, whom I had met in Philadelphia a few years before at the Penn Club, an organization which exists in part in order to do honor to the distinguished men who visit the Quaker City. I had been thrilled as never before by Salvini's im personation of Othello, which was the greatest piece of tragic acting that ever I have seen. Salvini never fell from his high estate, remaining to his end noble and impressive in every 'movement and in the majesty of his voice, superb beyond the power of words to tell. I had met Henry Irving also at the Penn Club, and re call a story of him, told me by the man to whom it hap pened. He was deep in conversation with Sir Henry when some one was brought up and introduced and the conversation was not resumed. A year later, when Irv ing, again at the Penn Club, met my friend he stretched out his hand, called him by name, saying, " As I was about to say last year when we were interrupted," and went straight on with the conversation from the point at which it was broken off the year before. Despite such extraordinary powers Irving was still human and there- 66 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS fore liable to err. After playing Mathias in " The Bells " hundreds of times during his career, one night when alone upon the stage in the midst of a soliloquy, he suddenly stopped, unable to recall what followed. Not in the least disconcerted, he looked toward the prompter and was heard by the audience to say, " Line, please." The prompter, never thinking that Irving could be in need of him, was not attending to his business but was talking to some one behind the scenes, when the actor taking a step toward him said in a louder tone of voice, " Line, please ! " The audience, observing that their favorite was in difficulties, was tense with excitement. The prompter, at last realizing Irving's plight, hurriedly consulted his book; and when Irving for the third time requested "Line, please!" the sound of the hastily turned pages was clearly distinguishable, with the fright ened voice following, " Which line, Sir Henry?" The house gave a shout of laughter and the tragedian, recov ering himself immediately, went on with his part. I found in Italy, as elsewhere, that possession of a voice proved to be an open sesame to every circle, and during a visit to Venice, at the hospitable house of Mrs. Bronson, I met Robert Browning and had the interesting experience of singing one of his wife's sonnets to him. I have often wondered why great people cannot, in their appearance, live up to their reputations. This very usual-looking gentleman gave no hint of the genius within him. In Florence I met the great American painter, John Sargent, who was visiting his sisters at the house that had once been occupied by Elizabeth Barrett Brown ing. Not the least interesting of my acquaintances in the lovely Italian city was a neighbor, the novelist Madame Ouida, whom I came to know quite well. She SERIOUS STUDY BEGINS 67 lived in a palace said to be haunted by the victim of an ancient murder, whose ghost went shrieking through the court-yard and rooms which Ouida chose for a dwelling, in spite of her distaste for this gibbering relict of an older day. When I went to call upon her in the great drawing- room on the second story of her habitation, filled as it was with a multitude of chairs and stools, screens and cabinets, stands and little tables, the sudden passage from the radiance of an Italian day to the dim rays of light which filtered through the closed Venetian blinds left me feeling like a Columbus setting forth upon uncharted seas. Ouida's old-fashioned style of dress and slippers, of the sort my mother used for my occasional chastisement, square-toed with ribbons tied over the instep, are still a picture in my memory. She had never been beautiful, but was always fascinating. Her feet and hands, all that remained small about her, were always in evidence: her dainty toes rested upon a small stool before her, her hands in becoming gestures accompanying her speech; yet I judged from her girth and much augmented com plexion that the dim light was a concession to the ravages made upon her by advancing years. She was a strange creature to me, with curious ideas about paying bills and about getting married, escaping both with unvarying consistency. Her creditors began suing her, one by one; and, acting on this hint, she began suing her former suitors, whose tender promises had been unable to sur vive the strain of her idiosyncrasies. She seemed to be as erratic as she was erotic, and shocked my Quakerly "belief in the sanctity of the matrimonial bond by assur ing me that the only certainty of married happiness lay 68 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS in treating one's wife as if she were one's mistress. During the years I was in Florence much music was to be heard both in public and in private, and I often sang for my friends. Enormously pleased was I one day when my master, Vannuccini, asked me if I cared to sing the Offertorium the following Sunday at the famous church of the San- tissima Annunziata. It appears that some one connected with the church had heard me and had asked Vannuccini that I, his young American pupil, be allowed to sing in the church. Vannuccini was willing and, much elated, I held forth on the Sunday from the interior of that high marble-walled choir beneath the dome of the church, surrounded by monks in their sandaled shoon and shaven heads, who sang the rest of the service from an enormous illuminated parchment volume of Gregorian chants, which stood upon a high lectern where all could see it. This led presently to a request from the clergy of the Santo Spirito to render them a similar service, which of course I was proud to do. I also took part in several concerts at the Sala Filarmonica, a delightful little concert room, and at the request of the distinguished pianist Buonamici, I became the soloist at one of his orchestral concerts at the Pagliano Theatre. Matters so progressed with me indeed that I was in vited to Bologna and took part with the noted pianist Barbirolli in one of his concerts there, in the long narrow hall of the Liceo Musicale, which centuries before had been the refectory of a monastery. At these concerts I naturally sang the songs I was learning in preparation for my intended career as an oratorio singer; namely, the music of the older Italian School. In securing Vannuccini SERIOUS STUDY BEGINS 69 as a master, and in studying later with the elder Lamperti, and also with Shakespeare, his pupil, I was highly fortu nate in having such eminent teachers, related in the line of direct succession to the masters of a century or more before them, who in their time were deemed the best of the day in which the art of song was at its highest point. While the Italians are proverbially critical, yet some times vocal sinners, such as Vannuccini deemed his pupil Tamagno to be, were accepted by the public and indeed idolized by it for mere strength of voice, which in his case seemed to be enduring as brass. I remember hear ing him render the tenor part in Rossini's " Stabat Mater " at a Sunday evening concert in the Pergola Theatre. The audience rose at him, for no one was ever known to sing the " Cujus Animam " with such a volume of tone as his ; but at my lesson next day, Vannuccini was highly displeased with what Tamagno had done. He said he did not think it singing at all. He- called it " bleat ing like a goat," and asked what could be done with a singer who knew nothing but operas. To my amazement he told me that Tamagno had not only never sung the " Stabat Mater," but until a fortnight before had never so much as heard of the work, which he had first studied with Vannuccini for this occasion. That night I had a great lesson in deportment from the quartette who participated in the concert. The dignity with which they walked upon the stage from the wings, bowed first to the occupants of the royal box, then to that on the other side occupied by the Sindaco or mayor of the city, and last to the audience as a whole; the grace of their demeanor, as they sat in their chairs beside the conductor, rose to sing, resumed their places without fidgeting, or acknowledged in a restrained manner the 70 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS applause of the audience, were indeed worthy of praise. Singers in costume on the operatic stage behave oper- atically, but in this instance no operatic airs were either sung or assumed, and the native simplicity of a wonder ful people seemed to shine through every movement of the artists of that extraordinary quartette. While in Florence I saw the funeral procession of an old woman locally celebrated, though she never sang out side of Italy, who was said to have had one of the most extraordinary voices of her day. For her several of the Italian composers had written operas and though she be came an idol of the public, which she served faithfully for many years, the story was that she was nearly hissed off the stage upon the occasion of her first appearance. Italians are particular, not only about voices but about the personal appearance of their singers. However fine her voice may be, if a woman has not fairly good looks she stands a poor chance of success. The artist to whom I refer was so plain that she was notorious throughout her quarter of the city for her " homeliness," as we say in America. They considered her bruta, ugly, and frankly said so, though every one along her little street knew and loved the splendid tones which they could hear roll ing from the open windows of her apartment. When it became known that she was going to make her debut, all laughed and shook their heads, declaring her too plain for the stage, however beautiful her voice might be. She persisted, for she had found a manager who was willing to take the risk. The great night came, the whole town was present, the tradespeople among her friends and all in her quarter of the city thronged the gallery and the pit, the bourgeoisie sat in the better places, and fashion was well represented in the boxes. The house SERIOUS STUDY BEGINS 71 was indifferent to the other artists on the play bill, but became tense with excitement as the moment approached for the appearance of their much heralded Florentine woman, for Florence does not differ from other cities in its refusal to honor its own artists before they have made a reputation. When this singer appeared at last the whole audience burst out in jeering laughter, crying " Brut a! Bruta! n booing, and whistling through their fingers, but not in the least disturbing the singer's poise. After trying in vain to make herself heard, she walked to the footlights, mo tioned to the orchestra to cease playing, shook her fist at the audience, and in good round lingua Toscana in formed her townsfolk that she had not come there to be looked at but to be listened to, and that, by all the gods, she was going to be heard ! At this the audience burst out into good-natured laughter and, delighted with her frankness, shouted back " Bravaf Bravaf Go ahead and let's hear you ! " Settling down to the enjoyment of a voice which immediately captivated them, they forgave her every feature of her bad looks and for the remainder of her long life she was the idol of the Florentine popu lace. CHAPTER VIII OPERA FROM AFAR For know my heart stands armed in mine ear, And will not let a false sound enter there. Shakespeare. I WAS making up my mind to cease studying in Florence and go to London to put into practice what I had learned for if I was to begin at all it was high time to set about it, as I was now thirty-two years of age when I met with a curious accident. I was walking on the Lung' Arno and carelessly running my walking stick along the top of the stone wall bordering the river, when the cane struck an obstacle, went through my hand, and the head of it came violently against my Adam's apple, the bruise rendering me practically voiceless for some time. I went to England by way of Switzerland, and while staying in the Engadine, was given the rare opportunity of becoming well acquainted with Professor Thomas Huxley, the great English scientist, with whom I had many walks and long conversations, not about music, but about what interested him. He talked exactly as he wrote, as I discovered when I read his books, with which I had not been well acquainted, and was being widely maligned because of his refusal to concede that the Bible as it stands is, as a whole, inspired by God. Upon this subject he spoke to me with great frankness, defending, at the same time, his distinguished brother scientist Dar- 72 OPERA FROM AFAR 73 win in most of his deductions as to the origin of species and the ascent of man through infinite ages from lower forms of life to what he is at present. He declared him self frankly and frequently to be what the world called him, an Agnostic, one who does not know; he had plenty of opinions, but he never made pronouncement as to their infallibility. A little way along the lake where I was staying, I learned that the English actor, Squire Bancroft, was spend ing the summer. Recalling my visit to Forbes-Robertson, I determined to make the acquaintance of Bancroft and to obtain his opinion as to the likelihood of my success upon the metropolitan stage. Accordingly I made a little pil grimage to Bancroft, who received me courteously, but with more insistence than Forbes-Robertson gave me to understand that London was full of singers and actors, and that if I were not already preparing for Italian opera, at that time the only opera performed at Covent Garden, I had in his opinion but a poor chance of success. When I told him I had not thought of going into opera, he naturally enough expressed great surprise, saying, " If you are studying at all why don't you study the whole thing? Why limit yourself to oratorio?" I came away from him a more thoughtful if not ex actly a sadder man, realizing how foolish I had been in allowing myself to be influenced, as I now knew I had been, by my Quakerly bringing up and my good mother's unreasoning dread of the stage as a stepping-stone to hell. But as the deed as done was only half done, I went back and told my predicament to Huxley, who gave me sound fatherly advice, counseling me to make the most of whatever opportunities came my way, to let the past bury its dead, and to apply myself in the future all 74 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS the more assiduously to whatever my hand might find to do that would lead me to the attainment of my desire. By way of Bayreuth, where I met some of the best German singers and where I reveled once more in Wag- nerian performances and rejoiced in the part of Hans Sachs, I again found my way to London in 1889. Once there, I set about making all the musical acquaintances possible by means of letters of introduction. My acci dent had left me unable to sing well enough to make any attempt to do so before the public. Even Shakespeare, whom I sought at once, gave me little encouragement and told me that the blow on my voice box might have sufficed to deprive me of voice altogether. Nothing is more wearing upon the voice than worry and apprehension, and realizing this, I did my best to counteract the mental depression which I was feeling. I stated my case to the eclectic, Doctor Tuckey, whom I had met in Florence, and unreservedly put myself into his care for hypnotic treatment, which he advised as use ful in ridding my mind of the fear that I had lost my voice. I was asked to recline comfortably upon a couch where I lay looking upward and squinting at the spot of light upon the shining object before me. At such times Tuckey would quietly reassure me by saying: " As a medical man I know there is nothing seriously wrong with your voice. My one object is to relieve your mind. Rest quietly, go to sleep if you wish; but when you wake do not worry about the condition in which you have been. Think cheerfully of the future and of the success you will undoubtedly make when you regain your vocal power. I know you can sing; I heard you in Florence before your injury, and I am sure you will soon have the success that is your due." OPERA FROM AFAR 75 As a matter of fact I never slept at all; such talk kept me wide awake. One day, however, when called from the room he gave into my hand the glass ball which he had been holding and said, " Hold this over your eyes yourself.'* I did so when left alone and my eyes soon closed. I dropped the ball, and when the good doc tor returned he found me in a deep slumber. I began to get well soon after and I sought my friend the distin guished English composer, Sir Alexander Mackenzie, principal of the Royal Academy of Music, whom I had met on several occasions in Florence, and told him of my disappointment in not being able to sing. He said, " Let me hear you. You used to sing all right; I remember you in Italy." After I had done my best for him, he said in his kindly Scotch manner: "There is nothing the matter with you. Go ahead and try it. There is nothing worse for a singer than not to sing." CHAPTER IX SPIRITS AND SOOTHSAYING There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this. Shakespeare. THROUGH Doctor Tuckey and his friends I had in vitations to attend the meetings of the Society for Psychical Research, held in Westminster Town Hall, and there I heard a number of the papers which had been carefully prepared by Professors F. W. Myers, Sidgwick, Crookes, Mr. Gurney, Sir Oliver Lodge, and their as sociates. While not going into these matters to any ex tent myself, I look back with interest upon having heard the first public reading of papers which have since become so famous. In the good faith and earnestness of these distinguished men of science I have the utmost confidence, though with Madame Blavatsky, whom I also met at this time, I had no patience; but the cleverness of the beauti ful Mrs. Anne Besant almost persuaded me to become whatever she was. Fortunately, my head had been screwed on pretty tightly by my Quaker ancestors, and I was not to be easily blown by every wind of doctrine; I must confess however that though I once went to an ex ponent of the New Thought for the toothache, it was not long before I sought the aid of an accredited American dentist, realizing the truth of the conundrum then current in London, " What is matter? " to which the answer was "Never mind," and " What is mind?" the reply being 11 No matter." I went to two spiritualistic seances eager to test for 76 SPIRITS AND SOOTHSAYING 77 myself what Hamilton Ai'de had both told me of and written about shortly before in a magazine article called, " Were We Hypnotized? " The query was intended to solve the problem whether or not a select company of clever men could have been deceived by the medium Hume through hypnotism, or by some other means, into believing that what they saw, in full light and with every opportunity to investigate, had actually taken place. If these things happened it must have been by the opera tion of a law so far unknown. If they did not happen though the company took oath that they did happen, then they must have been subtly deceived into believing to the end that they saw what could not have taken place at all, for it was contrary to all human experience. I went with my friend Francis James, the artist, who had known Hume, to my first seance. On the way there James told me that he did not believe in Hume, and yet that in broad daylight he, and the others assembled in a London drawing-room, saw performed the act of levita- tion. Hume by some agency was lifted six or eight inches from the floor, carried through a long, open win dow out to the balcony, along the whole length of the balcony, and in at the open window at the other end, where he was deposited again upon the drawing-room floor. When we arrived at the house of the professional medium and the gas was turned out strange noises be gan; the rattling of pictures and maps hanging on the wall, knockings upon the table and the doors leading into the passage and into the front drawing-room. I felt hands touching me ; heard a voice speaking to me through a cardboard tube such as is used to carry music through the mails. Before the lights were extinguished I had 78 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS noticed my old friend the zither, which presently arose, as of its own accord, and could be seen to move about the room over our heads as we sat, its position clearly in dicated by a large spot of luminous paint on its under side, playing as it went a jingling tune. As the eye fol lowed it down the room it reached the door and dis appeared with a thud, and through the folded doors could be heard playing, seemingly in the front room. The sound began getting louder as it again approached the dividing doors; another thud and suddenly the bright spot reappeared in the back room. I uttered an exclamation of astonishment and incredulity, when to my amazement the instrument settled down on top of my head and played " Yankee Doodle " ! I came away mystified but not in the least converted, and to me the whole thing was hocus-pocus. One of my companions, however, more impressed than I, declared to me subsequently: " Of course it's all non sense; but there's a lot in it! " My judgment is, that whatever there is " in it " goes to the alleged spiritists. Nevertheless, sometimes the spirits, or whatever they are, manage to hit off something so startlingly true as to make one thoughtful. I used to visit a country house near London, where the daughter of the hostess, a woman socially distinguished, was one of the most remarkable psychic subjects ever known. The brothers of the young lady were officers in the Life Guards, and every one in that household of the greatest refinement would have frowned upon anything bordering upon chicanery; yet no one could explain, and all stood in awe of the manifestations which quite unex pectedly might happen through the hand of their sister. Though not normally an artist, she would on a sudden SPIRITS AND SOOTHSAYING 79 paint pictures indistinguishable from those of Blake, write in foreign languages with which she was unacquainted, or extemporaneously compose poetry of great grandeur. In one instance, the poem thus produced afterward proved to be the translation of a papyrus found upon the body of an Egyptian mummy in the British Museum. This lady, who knew nothing of my private affairs, once seated herself in the large hall of their house with a crystal ball in her hand. As she looked into it she soon, began to say the names of a number of the letters of the alphabet, in no apparent order or with any con nection with each other. Her mother, herself writing down what was said, called hastily to another member of the family and to one of the brothers, " Note care fully what she says." For years the family had recorded everything coming from her in this way. Presently the sensitive ceased speaking, and the three after comparing notes and deciphering the message, every word of which was spelled backward, presented a paper to me which I read with amazement. Let me say that I had been puz zled by the non-arrival of a sum of money due to me through the hands of an American agent, Whose honesty had been questioned by an acquaintance. The message received from the crystal-gazer read as follows : You must not be concerned that you have not heard from your agent. He has been ill and unable to attend to your business, about which you need have no fear whatever. This was on a Sunday afternoon. Upon returning to my home in London, the first letter I opened in the mail Monday morning was from this man, enclosing the ex pected draft and apologizing for the delay, which was due to his ill health. 8o A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS Another and even stranger thing took place for which I always have been at a loss to account. I had been in London but a few months, was quite unknown to the public, and it is altogether unlikely that I should have been heard of by the old phrenologist to whose quaint little book shop I was taken one evening somewhat against my will, but I am glad to have had an experience which has always remained a mystery to me. We dived into a narrow street off Oxford Street, near the British Museum in Dickens land, and climbed a stairway littered with books, as was the passage from the front door. The old man, for all the world like the figure standing upon the top of the library ladder in the well-known picture called " The Book Worm," led us upstairs. His bald pate was covered with a black skullcap; his long broadcloth frock coat was so shiny that he could have seen himself in it, if he could have looked into his own back as well as he did into other people's brains. He was a gentle old soul, spoke quietly, confidentially, and almost affectionately to each of those who had sought him out, as they sat about the center table under the gaslight in his little parlor over the shop. He walked about among us, quietly placing his hands upon the heads of each as he passed. When he had given each person a somewhat intimate review of his nature, he said that we were all surrounded by the spirits of those whom he called our guardians. Every other person in the room accepted his descriptions of relations or friends who had passed on, except myself, for I was unable to recognize the presence he minutely described as being my guide at the time. He said he saw an elderly, clean shaven man with gray hair, dressed in a beautiful gar ment of red brocade with large puffed sleeves over a DAVID BISPHAM as The Due de Longueville in Messager's opera " The Basoche." From the portrait in oils by Herman G. Herkomer SPIRITS AND SOOTHSAYING 81 lighter colored vest of satin, with a sword by his side and around his neck a heavy gold chain from which de pended a great jeweled locket. I assured the old phre nologist there was no such person among my ancestors. My forefathers were, as I well knew, such as Michael Angelo declared his to be, " Simple persons who wore no gold on their garments." Standing with his eyes lifted ceilingward and gazing into vacancy, the old man per sisted that he knew nothing about that and could only tell me what he saw. I thought no more of the matter for a year and a half. Then, upon the occasion of my first professional appear ance at the Royal English Opera in Shaftesbury Avenue in the opera comlque by Messager entitled, "The Ba- soche," I, as the Due de Longueville, found myself, though 1 had for years worn a beard from which I tried hard not to part, clean-shaven at last, and bewigged and cos tumed with sword and chain and locket every detail of the dress that the old phrenologist had described. Let who will explain this; I cannot. CHAPTER X CONCERTS IN LONDON I do but sing because I must. Tennyson. MY first actual appearance in London as a singer was upon February 23, 1890, at a concert in the rooms of the Grosvenor Gallery. That spring I sang there upon several occasions in association with well-known artists, among whom were Johannes Wolf, the violinist, and Joseph Holman, the 'cellist. It was there, too, that on April 15, I had the honor of bringing out at their first performance Stanford's magnificent " Cavalier Tunes," set to Browning's words for barytone solo and male chorus. I cannot too heartily recommend them to my barytone confreres. I appeared on April 30, for the first time at the Or chestral Concerts at Crystal Palace under August Manns, and a fortnight later I was performing upon the stage of the Savoy Theatre in an operetta by Lady Arthur Hill called " The Ferry Girl," a charming little Irish story in which a number of well-known amateurs and ex-pro fessionals took part for a charity in which the best of London society was interested. My work in this as Count Montebello attracted the attention of Ernest Ford, who was then composing a light opera called " Joan; or, The Brigands of Bluegoria," in which he asked me to perform, the book written by the brilliant Irish wit and parliamentarian, Robert Martin. It was given from 82 CONCERTS IN LONDON 83 July i Qth to 24th, inclusive, at the Opera Comique in the Strand with my name at the head of the cast. Had it been performed by a regular company of professionals I believe it would have had a long run; as it was it was played for six performances to crowded houses. In it I enacted the part of Bilboss, " a bass brigand," supported by George Power, afterward Sir George, who had been for some time upon the stage in the early days of the Gil bert and Sullivan performances, by Cosmo Gordon Len nox, a collateral descendant of Lord Byron, Kinsey Peile and Paul Monckton, the playwrights, and the author, who was an admirable comedian. The leading lady was Mrs. Godfrey Pearse, a musical hostess with an exquisite though small voice, whose parents were none other than the famous tenor Mario and his equally celebrated wife Madame Grisi. I sang in several other concerts in London, Liverpool, and elsewhere, before appearing for the first time at Covent Garden Theatre in the autumn series of prom enade concerts being given in the historic auditorium that year. It was at one of these that I first sang with Sims Reeves, then approaching his sixty-eighth birthday. He had been upon the stage since his seventeenth year, when he made his first appearance as Count Rudolfo in " La Sonnambula." Reeves had expressed his intention of re tiring from the stage in 1882; but 1890 found him still singing, as he continued to do so for several years longer. It is interesting to note, in view of the fact that Reeves so often disappointed his admirers, that upon the oc casion to which I refer, an -ample array of artists had been engaged in order to satisfy the most fastidious among the audience which was expected and which duly gath ered. Against the chance of Mr. Reeves's treating the 84 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS management to one of his frequent " indispositions " four teen soloists had been engaged, besides the military band of the Scots Guards and an orchestra of a hundred and fifty pieces. But Reeves appeared and sang, as only Reeves could sing, " When Other Hearts and Other Lips " from " The Bohemian Girl " and, by special re quest, Charles Dibdin's fine old ballad, " The Bay of Bis cay." Being unusually good-natured, he added as en cores " Sally in Our Alley," sung with exquisite grace, and his favorite " Tom Bowling," I had first endeavored to hear Reeves in 1878, at St. James's Hall where he was announced to sing surrounded by a galaxy of other great artists. When the time came for his appearance, some one read a telegram from him announcing, with much regret, that he had caught a se vere cold and would not be able to fulfill his engagement. There was breathless silence until the end of the message, when loud comments and laughter, almost jeering laugh ter, arose from all parts of the concert room. Inquiry proved that it was Reeves's custom thus to treat his au diences, though they invariably crowded to hear him. Though disappointed three times out of four, their de votion was such that they returned upon the next an nouncement of his singing in the hope that at last they might be lucky enough to listen to the celebrated man. I was amazed to learn that Reeves was paid the sum of sixty guineas (about $300) for singing and that it was also stipulated that in the event of his not singing he was still to have forty guineas. The management could rely with such confidence upon the drawing power of this remarkable gentleman that they had only to guard against any great number of persons leaving the hall and demanding their money back by the excellence CONCERTS IN LONDON 85 of the rest of the concert, for which several popular fav orites were always engaged. The reason for his frequent disappointments of the public was said to be his good wife's solicitude for his health. He would get up in the morning and sing a little while dressing. Naturally his voice was not in prime condition then, but Mrs. Reeves would say: " Oh, Gardy dear" (she never forgot that he had been Ed- gardo in " Lucia ") , " I am sure you have a dreadful cold to-day. I will send a telegram saying it is impossible for you to appear this evening." Indeed it is said she almost wrought his ruin by the undue care she took of him. It has been my luck to miss very few engagements, but once I missed my train to Ipswich through Queen Vic toria's return to London, which halted traffic in the street I had to take to the station. Greatly concerned, I sent a telegram of abject apology, only to receive the cutting reply : u A Reeves can scarcely afford to disappoint an audience; certainly not a Bispham." I was crushed! Less than three weeks after the Covent Garden prom enade concert at which Reeves appeared, I was called upon suddenly to join his concert company on tour, re placing a singer who had been taken ill. This so-called " farewell tour " was arranged by an astute manager who in his contract expressly stipulated that Mrs. Reeves should not travel with him, knowing full well that the aged lady would exercise her old-time wiles and, if she could do so, would prevent him from singing. As it was, we younger people of the company were charged with the duty of keeping our chief amused and pleased, never crossing him in any way, taking walks or drives with him, playing billiards and otherwise causing him to forget that he was a tenor. The results were 86 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS eminently satisfactory to every one concerned, for during my connection with his company he never disappointed an audience, though we sang every night and traveled to some other city the next day. So much for the sensible management of a singer. While with Reeves, I found myself associated with Miss Amy Sherwin, soprano, Percy Sharman, violinist, and an excellent one he was, and the erratic pianist, Mile. Janotha, who was always designated on the bill as " Solo Pianist to H. I. M. the Emperor of Germany." This was probably the reason why she rarely if ever spoke to any of us except at the concert, and then as little as possible, devoting her time to a magnificent cat which she took everywhere with her, spending the intervals at concerts in conversation with this animal, or in telling her beads, for she was a devout Catholic. Many public performers have fads or mannerisms which are their specialties, their trade-marks, as it were. One of Reeves's was his persistent determination to give no encore in response to the applause after his first ap pearance upon the program. If down for two selec tions, one in each part of the concert, he asserted that the audience had no right to demand more of him than these two pieces; but, if he chose to give an encore, as of course he did after the second selection, that was his gra cious donation, and no concession to any demand the au dience might make. The fact is, " Needs must when the devil drives," as the old proverb has it, and Reeves did not want to sing any more than he actually had to. But if he felt well and was sufficiently flattered he would often respond to two, sometimes three encores, as he had fre quently done on our concert tour. CONCERTS IN LONDON 87 Reeves used to recount to us many tales of his days upon the operatic stage, when he was without a peer among tenors and was also in the heyday of his glory as an oratorio singer. Among his experiences in the concert field, he told with great glee of an occasion in Scotland when he was the soloist for a choral society which as sisted him in one or two numbers as he sang the solo parts. One of the selections was Spofforth's charming madrigal, " Hail, Smiling Morn," at one part of which the tenor sings " At whose bright presence darkness flies away " and the chorus should reply " flies away." What was the tenor's amusement to find the echo repeated by the ac companying choristers in a broad Scotch burr. " At whose bright presence darkness flies away " sang Reeves; but the chorus replied " flees awa' ! " and broke up the sobriety of even a Scottish audience. Upon this tour I had an opportunity of seeing for the first time Burns's country and of making acquaintance with the bagpipes upon their native heath; and Reeves told me the story of the Scot who meets in the street a friend broadly smiling. " Eh, Sandy, what it is makes ye look sae happy the day? " says he, and Sandy answers, " Eh, mon, I dreamit that I was in Heeven. I dreamit there was seeven-an'-thirrty pipers a' playin' deeferent tunes at the same time in a sma' room. Eh, it was just Heeven!" The statement I once heard that the Scotch are very earnest but hardly serious enough is contradicted by the tale of the man who came down an Edinburgh street on a Sunday morning with a lilt in his walk and a tune on his lips. A friend stopped with " Eh, mon, have a care, have a care. You'd better mind what you're aboot ! " 88 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS " What is the nratter? " asked the smiling man. " Have a care, mon," warned the other. " You look a'nro-st as happy as if it were Monday." Although Reeves's repertory was becoming limited, it sufficed him to the end. Besides the pieces mentioned it comprised " The Death of Nelson " by Braham, " Come into the Garden, Maud " by Balfe, " The Message " by Blumenthal, and " My Pretty Jane " by Bishop. Yet when his wife died two years later Reeves was not only still singing, but he soon married quite a young woman by whom he had a bouncing baby, after which he went on a vaudeville tour through the British Isles. The last time I heard him was at a Sunday concert in Queen's Hall, London, October 6, 1895, in which I assisted. Though the power of his voice was sadly diminished, he gave a most touching rendering of the Passion music from " The Messiah." A grand old boy he was! There being no engagements in prospect after the Reeves tour, I went again to my beloved Italy to study with Lamperti at San Remo, where he spent the winters, and profited greatly by association with the master, whose rooms were crowded every morning with pupils, who sang and were listened to by their fellows. I ever since have believed that method to be effective in any studio. He sat there in his easy chair, in slippered feet with a rug across his knees, mitts on his hands, a shawl about his shoulders resembling in his drooping, rough-clad form, some lean and slippered pantaloon sitting in sackcloth and ashes. He invariably held a conductor's baton in his hand, and with it would alternately drub the arms or shoulders of some careless girl, or point to the portrait of Marcella Sembrich, whom he considered the greatest of his pupils CONCERTS IN LONDON 89 and one of the greatest singers before the public of the day as, indeed, she was. He had no patience with incompetency. Turning to his wife as she played for him, he would complain of the stupid possessors of beau tiful voices, u What can you do with these people when they have no brains? " It was on this visit that I met the novelist Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, who had already attained fame with " That Lass o' Lowrie's " and " Little Lord Fauntleroy." By her I was taken to Bordighera, a few miles along the coast, to meet at the home which had been built for him by his admirers, the Scotch poet George Macdonald, who lived there with his family, friends and servants, in a manner fairly patriarchal. He had a great deep room across the whole front of the house; and opposite the door as one entered stood a massive stone fireplace be side which was placed his huge high-backed armchair. The floor at the end of the room at the right was raised and there stood the dining table at which family, guests, and servants all sat together at every meal. Toward one end of the table was a large saltcellar from which every one helped himself by dipping his fingers in at will, and " below the salt," in the old fashion, sat the servants, one of whom arose as need required to attend to the wants of others. During the afternoon our host read to us, as was his custom, from Milton, Shakespeare, the Bible, or selections from Greek tragedy, in a superbly simple and yet grandly massive voice. The whole effect of the old man in his great chair impressed indelibly any one fortunate enough to hear such a reading. On the broad mantelpiece above the poet's head stood a wooden bowl into which I saw one of his servants reach and draw forth money; it seems 90 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS that our host would never permit any bills to be con tracted in his house, and insisted upon immediate pay ment being made for every purchase sent from the shops, out of the bowl, which he kept supplied with small coins. My stay in Italy was interrupted by a summons to London from Mile. Janotha, whom I had promised, when on tour with Reeves, to assist at her concert in St. James's Hall whenever it might take place. As the occasion was to be a more than ordinary one, I was only too glad to make the journey. The concert was given under the auspices of Queen Victoria and almost all of her daughters, including the Queen-to-be Alexandra, and I was proud, indeed, to find myself again with Sims Reeves and the veteran Italian violoncellist Signor Piatti, one of Joachim's quartette. The reason for my appearance at this affair was in real ity that I might sing certain songs written by Lady Ten nyson, the wife of the Poet Laureate, to words by her husband. Mile. Janotha had edited these songs, and I had the honor of giving them not only their first and probably their last hearing upon any stage, but of doing so before one of the most distinguished audiences that it was possible to gather in all London, Janotha hav ing made as much as possible of her connection with roy alty and the friends of the friends of royalty. Though Tennyson himself was not present, he was represented by his wife and son Hallam, and many distinguished per sonages announced as patrons of the concert were in actual attendance. To me it was an auspicious occasion and the first of many appearances on that platform. Who, having been in St. James's Hall, will ever for get that wonderful room consecrated by the greatest art ists of the world? Yet the auditorium on the ground CONCERTS IN LONDON 91 floor of the same building was occupied every afternoon and evening by Christie's negro minstrels. One of Leach's most amusing drawings in Punch was that of the musical amateur who had issued from one of the classical Monday " Pops " at the same time that the crowd was pouring out from the minstrels. Climbing upon an omnibus beside a man whom he had shouldered in the crowd, he asked the stranger if he had enjoyed the concert, and received the rejoinder, u Concert be blowed! Christie's for me." CHAPTER XI OPERA FROM WITHIN Music bright as the soul of light, for wings an eagle, for notes a dove. Swinburne. THE night after Mile. Janotha's concert, I attended a performance of Sullivan's " Ivanhoe " at the Royal Eng lish Opera House, Shaftesbury Avenue. Before the eve ning was over I was bidden to the office of the manager, D'Oyley Carte, where I was offered the part of Cedric the Saxon, in place of one of the members of the cast who was unreliable because of his erratic disposition and intemperate habits. Consulting my master Shakespeare the following morning, I was besought by him and his good wife not to " ruin " this artist's career. I replied that I was not to be accused of ruining the career of a man who could not hold his position, but I promised that I would not give an affirmative answer until they had tried to bring him around and reestablish him in his part at the opera. In this they were successful. The management gave me a copy of the work, however, with instructions to learn the part, and to be ready to return at a moment's notice to fill the vacancy if the artist should yield to his besetting sin. Though nothing more came of it, I had many hours of serious thought and regret for my lack of foresight in having left opera out of my calculations. In London I found myself associated with many artists, among them the pianist Leopold Godowsky, then coming 92 OPERA FROM WITHIN 93 into prominence, and met the American contralto, Antoi nette Sterling, whose majestic appearance was, if I am not mistaken, derived from American Indian ancestors. She was a serious woman and highly religious, considered opera wrong, for herself at least, and had devoted her talents to oratorio and later to the sort of ballad that points a moral and adorns a tale if it does not adorn the artistic side of the concert platform. If half a hymn the better a song pleased her. Madame Sterling had been under the influence of Quakers in America, and I believe had joined that body, but she deemed that Friends were doing wrong by not having music in their places of worship, and at the time of which I speak had suddenly made her appearance at the Friends' Meeting in St. Martin's Lane in London, where, moved by the spirit as she declared, she arose and sang, without accompaniment, Mendelssohn's " Oh, Rest in the Lord," to the dismay of the worshipers. Some of them tried to silence her, and others supported her, deeming it better to hear the song through than to have an unseemly disturbance in the quiet precincts of the Meet ing House. She ended and sat down, assuring me that after the meeting she was surrounded by many persons, who, with tears in their eyes, thanked her for what she had done, devoutly wishing that such singing might be heard regularly among them. In the summer of 1891 my mother again crossed the ocean to visit me, interested as she was in my study and career, but filled with apprehension, dear soul, lest I should be enticed upon the stage. She knew that I had been successful in the two amateur operas of which I have spoken; and, having heard of the offer made me by Sulli van, looked forward with dread to a time when I might 94 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS be tempted and fall into the wiles of the Evil One, as he lay concealed behind the scenery or beneath the boards of the iniquitous theatre. Reassuring her, I made her realize that I had at her particular desire not studied any operas at all for profes sional purposes, and that were I offered an engagement I should have great difficulty in accepting it; yet, at the same time, if such an engagement should come, I should be the most foolish young man in the world not to ac cept it. It would be unlike the spirit of an American to hold back from anything honorably ambitious, and un wise from the point of view of business, for as a family our means were rather small, and though I lived quietly my early earnings were scarcely adequate to my needs. My mother left England saying that she fully realized my position, and while she wished me well in my chosen career, she earnestly hoped that it might continue in the way of concert and sacred music such as oratorio, and prayed that the temptation of opera might never be of fered me. As I bade her farewell, I said, " Mother, what would happen if opera should be offered me?" " Oh! my dear son," she said in alarm, " let us not think of that, I almost hope it may never come ; but if it does, please write me at once and I will take the matter in prayer to a Higher Source and let thee know my deci sion." It was not long before I had the offer. Through my friend the composer, Ernest Ford, my name was urged upon Arthur Sullivan's consideration and I was requested to come to the Savoy Theatre and have my voice tried. The outcome might possibly be my en gagement as the Duke in Messager's opera "The Ba- soche," which had already been translated. On arriving at the theatre I found about fifty aspirants OPERA FROM WITHIN 95 for operatic honors sitting about the stage or in the body of the house. These were called one by one, young men and young women, who proceeded to sing the songs they had brought with them, everybody being nervous. Par ticularly good voices were made note of, the names and addresses of their owners set down in a book, to be called upon if parts were vacant in any of the companies on the road. The Savoy Theatre had been an institution for years, companies from it went not only over Great Brit ain but over the whole English-speaking world. Every thing was done in a businesslike and yet artistic manner. No favoritism was shown, as I knew well afterward, and the company of the Savoy Theatre itself was a model one. Artists of good reputation and fine voices were chosen in the first place, retained their positions for many years, and the company's work was consequently of the highest order. As my turn drew near my nerves were on edge. I was not in the best vocal condition; but I was in for it and had to go through with it. No comment was made upon my singing. My name and address were taken down and I felt that perhaps I was not altogether hopeless. Time passed and I did not hear from the Savoy Thea tre, but continued with the concerts that came my way, upon one occasion appearing on the program with several artists of the Savoy Theatre and some well-known actors, thus seeming to be brought in touch with what after all I could not grasp, standing at the foot of a ladder which I feared I was not to be permitted to mount. Yet in about a month I was surprised by being asked to come again to the Savoy Theatre, where I was invited into the private office of Mr. Carte and found my friend Ford. Notwithstanding my former cold I had been ac- 96 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS counted as one among the promising aspirants for stage honors, which in their own good time were coming around to me. I sang a number of things for Mr. Carte, who was noncommittal. I did not hear from him again until one wretched foggy day when I was suddenly sum moned. I arrived with galoshes, dripping umbrella, and mack intosh, and was presently shown upon the stage, lighted only by a little gas jet on an upright stand down by the footlights. Ford played the piano, Carte was in the top most row of the gallery, Arthur Sullivan in the back row of the pit, and his friend and adviser, Mrs. Ronalds, in a box. From these points of vantage they took account of me at a disadvantage. I was asked to sing and to act, and chose the serenade of Mephistopheles from " Faust." Though the part of Mephistopheles had long attracted me, I had never, of course, sung it upon the stage. Sev eral years later, however, my manager did me the com pliment to urge me to do so, and when I demurred, say ing I was too short, he replied, " Oh, that is nothing; I have known plenty of little devils ! " I have since been told that I have a way of creating an atmosphere which causes my audience to forget that I am merely upon a concert platform ; but on the occasion of my Savoy ordeal I had to convince three or four of the wisest heads in the world, for Alfred Cellier was present too. The scenery of the Savoy was wrong side before standing against the wall; there was no illusion and but little light. Strumming upon my wet umbrella as though it were a lute, and deporting myself as though I were indeed the Prince of Darkness in disguise, I trolled out my song. To my amazement I was then and there engaged to OPERA FROM WITHIN 97 take the part of the Duke in " The Basoche " which went immediately into rehearsal. In this I made my pro fessional debut on the operatic stage on November 3, 1891, at the Royal English Opera House, Shaftesbury Avenue, now the Palace Theatre of Varieties. I was then almost thirty-five years of age, and should have been able to do this ten years before, at the very least. During the rehearsals for u The Basoche " I found my self not getting along with Hugh Moss, who was putting on the piece. He was an actor of the old school, and I in my ignorance and inexperience found his orders irk some and was not doing myself justice. One morning at the midday recess, the conductor called me aside, in vited me to lunch with him, and took the opportunity of giving me the best advice I had ever received. Cellier said: " I see that you and Moss do not agree very well, and I must tell you that Mr. Carte and Sir Arthur have observed the same thing, and doubt whether you can carry through your part acceptably. I believe in you and so does Ernest Ford, and if you will take my advice, you will study stage deportment after our rehear sals here. Go quietly without saying anything about it to my friend Monsieur Marius, the comedian from Paris now playing at the Gaiety Theatre. He will be able to put you through this French part better than any one else, and will give you the lightness of touch which you lack and are not getting from our stage director. Further more," said Mr. Cellier, " as your part has a serious side, I would suggest that you go to some Shakespearean actor like Herman Vezin, and have lessons from him in a different school of dramatic art." I followed Cellier' s advice and immediately arranged for lessons with Marius, which I took every morning 98 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS upon the Gaiety stage before coming to rehearsal at the Royal English Opera House. Every afternoon after finishing my work there, I went to Vezin's chambers in the top of the house at the north end of Waterloo Bridge, where I studied such Shakespearean selections as the quarrel scene of Brutus and Cassius from " Julius Caesar." The celebrated old tragedian acted these out with me in the midst of a room filled with mementos of his long career in Europe. I learned much from Vezin the tragedian and Marius the comedian, and kept my counsel at our own rehear sals, obeying every instruction to the letter, having dis covered that another man was being prepared in my part and that if a week's trial did not bring me up to ex pectations I should certainly be supplanted by a rival. This put me on my mettle and I resolved not to lose my job. I had, of course, informed my mother of the great op portunity offered me of appearing under the best auspices in a part which would undoubtedly suit me to perfection, and I immediately received from her a letter in which she withdrew all her earlier objections to my identifying my self with the operatic stage, adding that she felt my career to be guided by Other Hands than hers, and bidding me to strive always toward the highest ideals in my chosen profession. Moved by her noble self-denial for what touched me, her only child, was touching her very life I re solved ever after to live up to the best that I knew in my innermost soul and to hold high the banner of my art. I am reminded that her father, my grandfather Scull, had during the time that I was in my uncle's office, ob- OPERA FROM WITHIN 99 served that I had musical tendencies and, as he lay on his death-bed, he had, with a generosity entirely unex pected, given me a check for fifty dollars, with which to begin the collection of my musical library. I treasure nothing more than the oratorios and good music which I acquired with that money, and still possess. About this time I gave up smoking, which I found was somewhat irritating to my throat, preferring song to smoke, each of them evanescent enough in itself. If I were to make a career upon the stage, I was determined to put aside everything that might interfere with it. I had smoked for years; but, after four days of successful struggle, I abandoned the habit for ever, through the simple expedient of carrying about and putting to my lips when moved to smoke the stub of a lead pencil about the size and shape of a cigarette. Meeting my friend Oliver Herford in London and telling him that I had stopped smoking because it irritated my mucous membrane, he said, " Why didn't you go on? Very soon you would have had no mucous membrane to bother about." As we talked, we spoke of London not yet having American " skyscrapers." " No," said Oliver as he peered into the pea-soup fog, " that's a pity, for I don't know any sky that needs scraping more." At the time of which I speak I wore a pointed beard which was reddish my hair had been a brick red as a boy and still had its golden tint, though I was early graying at the temples ; but I fancied myself in my Van dyke beard and did not dispense with it until the last moment before the dress rehearsal. Calling that day shaven at the house of an intimate friend on my way to the theatre, I was announced by the servant, who knew me of old, as " the Reverend Mr. Bispham." Very lit- ioo A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS tie serves to disguise me, and in my costume I came upon the stage totally unrecognized by any member of the com pany for several minutes. I was in fine voice and by reason of the private instruction I had been having in the actor's art, I was at the first performance of the opera enabled to carry it through to the satisfaction of my em ployers and of the public, and remained about six months at that theatre as long as the piece ran. At the time of the production of " The Basoche " there were a number of well-known American songstresses in London, who had already come under the notice of Arthur Sullivan, and from among these were chosen the two beautiful and gifted sopranos, Esther Palliser, a Phil adelphia girl, and Lucille Hill. These ladies with the distinguished tenor, Ben Davies, and myself carried the burden of the performance, which was well received, and I found myself suddenly in the desired haven. My voyage through life up to that time had not been tempes tuous, but, nevertheless, I knew not where to land and settle down. This engagement so auspiciously begun, I am thankful to say, gave me the right start, and I bent every energy toward assuring myself and the public of my standing in the musical world. The designer of the resplendent costumes for " The Basoche " was Percy Anderson, to whom I had confided my desire to play my part, if possible, with a beard. I still possess Mr. Anderson's sketch in water colors of how I might be dressed as the Due de Longueville while retaining my precious hirsute appendage. Distinguished looking as I appear in the sketch, it does not resemble either of the costumes I wore, the principal one of which turned out to be in every detail that which was described to me by the old phrenologist as being worn by the person OPERA FROM WITHIN 101 he denominated as my guide. But the fact was not com mented upon until some time later, when I was sitting for my portrait to Herman Herkomer, to whom for the first time I told the story. CHAPTER XII THE THRESHOLD CROSSED Life is a great bundle of little things. 8 Holmes. AFTER the run of " The Basoche " was over, I filled many minor concert engagements and was beginning to make a little money. Bearing in mind Mackenzie's in junction that it was the business of a singer to sing, I real ized, too, that there was no business in it if the singer did not get paid for his song or strive for his own advance ment, and I let no stone remain unturned in my path up the hill. I sang wherever I was asked to sing, and took a moderate fee rather than none at all. I joined the Lyric Club where Randegger used to di rect the Sunday evening concerts, in which many of the foremost artists appeared, and I also belonged to The Magpies, a club under the direction of Lionel Benson, where were performed madrigals of the old school and the best modern music for mixed voices, sending several of the programs to New York for the information of the newly founded Musical Art Society. The member ship of The Magpies included the names of a number of persons famous in England, not in music alone but in painting, sculpture, literature, and political life, and of the highest social station, including royalty itself. One of Queen Victoria's daughters, H. R. H. the Princess Louise, Marchioness of Lome, was an enthusiastic am ateur. Another daughter, H. R. H. the Princess Chris tian, was also an ardent lover of music, and sang well. 102 THE THRESHOLD CROSSED 103 The Prince of Wales, afterward King Edward VII, was devoted to music, to which he listened at every oppor tunity, which included constant attendance at the opera. His brother, the Duke of Edinburgh, was no mean violin ist and played at the first desk in the Royal Amateur Orchestral Association. Another of the Queen's sons, the late Prince Arthur, had a nice voice, for an amateur, and frequently offered to entertain his friends. A noble old lady of my acquaintance who had been speaking of his vocal performances in her drawing-room was asked by me how he sang. She archly replied, " Oh like a Prince, I assure you ! " It was at my first concert with The Magpies that I introduced to English audiences Richard Wagner's fine ballad " Les Deux Grenadiers," the words of which had been known only through the arrangement by Robert Schumann, famous for fifty years. It seems that Wag ner, living, but almost at death's door, in Paris where for a mere pittance he was making piano transcriptions of the works of his rivals, happened upon Heine's own French version of his well-known poem " The Two Gren adiers," and by a coincidence set about composing music for it at the very time that Schumann was making his version, neither composer knowing that the other was thus at work. To London Wagner's setting of the celebrated lines came as a novelty, and I frequently used the song which, notwithstanding its fine quality, is undoubtedly inferior in dramatic intensity to Schumann's setting. This lat ter, Georg Henschel used to render superbly. Once when he and I were singing in a large miscellaneous con cert, Henschel had sent in Schumann's " The Two Gren adiers," while I had contributed Wagner's setting of the 104 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS same ballad. Upon offering to change my selection, Henschel replied, " Oh, no, let us keep them both upon the program; it will be interesting to see how the two songs contrast " ; and it was done, arousing renewed in terest in both. Some time afterward while being entertained in Bay- reuth by Madame Wagner at the Villa Wahnfried, where I had been upon previous occasions, I was requested to sing her late husband's setting of " Les Deux Grenadiers," and was amazed to find that none of the Wagner fam ily had ever heard the song before, though Madame Wag ner told me that she knew of its existence. Indeed, not excepting the many celebrated German musicians pres ent, it was a novelty to every one in the room, save the few who had heard me sing it in London. Beyond knowledge of the music of Richard Wagner, the ladies of the Wagner family were, as a matter of fact, rather unmusical. Upon the very evening to which I re fer, after Madame Lilli Lehmann had superbly sung Schubert's " Erl King/' one of Madame Wagner's daugh ters turned to my informant beside her on the sofa and said, " Oh, how wonderfully she sings that great song by my grandfather Liszt! " In consequence members of the Wagner family were not free from rather frequent raps from those who had a wider purview of the musical situation than they. For instance, Von Bulow, who had been Madame Wagner's first husband and continued his friendship with the fam ily for many years, visited Bayreuth about the time to which I refer, not only to hear the master's music, but to pay his respects to his former family, so to speak. On taking his departure, a great crowd assembled at the station to see him off. After the daughters of the family THE THRESHOLD CROSSED 105 had embraced him, he seated himself in the railway car riage. As the train was moving out, he arose, put his head out of the window, waved his hand to the crowd, and shouted out, "But there is one greater: Brahms! Brahms! Good-by! Good-by!" With that parting shot the brilliant and eccentric musician took his depar ture from Bayreuth, never again to return. While singing in London I met many times the gifted but unfortunate Goring Thomas, who may be counted among England's most talented sons. His operas " Es- meralda " why is it never given? and " Nadeshda " had already made him famous, and he had just composed that exquisite cantata, " The Swan and the Skylark." Many songs added to his fame and he was never more productive than when the accident happened that gave him concussion of the brain. This lamentably resulted in fits of madness, in one of which he threw himself in front of an approaching train and was cut to pieces. That most of Goring Thomas's operas have been pro duced at Covent Garden in Italian, that shortly after the opera " Signa," founded on the story by Ouida and com posed by Frederick Cowen, was also performed in Italian at the Grand Opera, and that the works of Wagner were there performed in the same tongue, all before English- speaking audiences, caused me to reflect upon the futility of the decrees of fashion. Nothing but fashion and lack of reflection in following fashion's decrees could have brought about so ridiculous a state of affairs, whereby grand opera from English, German, and French sources should be sung only in Italian and that before English- speaking audiences. Notwithstanding the fact that English is a world lan guage, that it has an enormous and precious literature of 106 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS songs, that all the oratorios are sung in our language, that all newly composed cantatas for English festivals are written in English and in nothing else, that for these very festivals many foreign works have been translated into English, in which language they are sung as a matter of course, yet fashion had decreed that at the opera Italian should be the one and only language. The Royal Eng lish Opera was started with Sullivan's " Ivanhoe " and with plenty of money behind it, as a protest against this and as an effort to better conditions so calamitous that the Royal Carl Rosa English Grand Opera Company, though successful everywhere else, was year after year a failure in London. Though a newcomer in the metropolis, the inconsistency of all this was so apparent that it occurred to me to speak about it to my friend Lionel Benson, conductor of The Magpies. I spoke also to Alberto Randegger, teacher and conductor, himself an Italian with a German name; to William Barclay Squire, now at the head of the musi cal department of the British Museum, and to J. A. Ful- ler-Maitland, music critic of the London Times. These gentlemen, with others influential in musical art, were in vited to meet me at Mr. Squire's house, where I laid be fore them my idea that perhaps the time had now come for a change, seeing that Germany was a musical nation with a rich operatic literature and that France also had a long and growing list of operatic works for which per formers could easily be brought twenty miles across the English Channel. As a result the company present composed and sent a letter to Sir Augustus Harris, the well-known head of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and of the opera at THE THRESHOLD CROSSED 107 Covent Garden, which he had revived and set upon its feet a short time before. In this Harris was asked to use his best endeavor to bring about such changes as would enable London audiences to hear French, Ger man, and English operas performed in their respective languages. Harris replied that at the time he did not see his way to doing this, though as a matter of fact the idea made an immediate appeal to him, and it was not long before the Italian artist no longer had it all his own way. Germans were soon brought over from Germany to sing in operas of their own school; many French singers who had hitherto sung only in Paris were glad to have the opportunity of rendering French roles in their own exquisite tongue; and operas by Englishmen were also heard in the vernacular of their composers: opera in Ital ian in short held sway in its proper place, as we hope it always will do. The back of the unilingual system was thus broken, though for some strange reason there still exists a prejudice against grand opera in English among many of the fashionable operatic set on both sides of the Atlantic. Until the recent advent of Sir Thomas Beecham as an operatic conductor, who is well furnished with the wherewithal to do anything he pleases upon the stage, English opera had never fairly come into its own. Let us hope that the way now open is kept open and that Brit ish no less than American composers will be encouraged by the public at large to give us of their best without further fear of the unthinking attitude which has per suaded so many among us to regard the English language as unsingable. All this time I was studying hard to increase my reper- io8 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS tory, while tempering my character to meet any demands upon it. Almost equal to the possession of voice to a singer is the ability to do the work required quietly, sys tematically, accurately, and without giving trouble to the management, as my experience in " The Basoche " had taught me. Let me cite an example. One of the most celebrated artists of the world, not an English-speaking person, by the way, after making a great reputation in Paris, London, and New York, was in vited several years ago to sing in Berlin, where her de mands and requirements on and off the stage were most exaggerated and exasperating. After her first perform ance at the Royal Opera, in Berlin, she was, notwithstand ing the success she had made with the audience, requested to end her engagement immediately. From the moment of her appearance at the opera house she kept everything in a turmoil until she left it. As her manager once summed it up to me : " Confound these women, the older they get, and the worse they sing, the more the people want to see them, the more money they demand, the less they'll do, and the more trouble they make." . In all legitimate ways I was eagerly pursuing success in my professional life in London, after the conclusion of the run of " The Basoche." Besides numerous con certs, public and private, of greater or less importance, I was besought by several theatre managers to go into light opera, for which it seems they thought me well fitted, as I had made an undoubted comedy hit already. But nothing seemed to suit me. Tschaikowsky's opera of " Eugene Onegin," which was offered me and which I studied, I gave up when I found the character did not fit my personality. I was declining so many things that I began to be in considerable doubt as to what course I THE THRESHOLD CROSSED 109 should pursue in my professional life. The concert field, while interesting, seemed much overcrowded, and though I felt that I should continue in opera, the right thing did not seem to present itself. I had reached an other crisis in my life. CHAPTER XIII PLANCHETTE AND PROPHECY You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of the mystery. Shakespeare. AMONG others at a small dinner given at my house in London in March, 1892, was Baron Waleen, a Swede not identified with music, but interested in the investiga tion of psychic phenomena. He brought with him the toy called Planchette, by means of which automatic writing is assisted, and after dinner we tried a few experiments. They were on the point of becoming interesting when the conversation wandered from serious consideration of the subject into trifling questions, our experiments resulting in nothing. A few evenings later I dined with Waleen and his friend Baron Rudbeck, the latter neither musician nor spiritist, but known to have manifested curious psychic powers. After dinner we three sat about a little table on which was spread a great blank sheet of white paper, upon which, under Rudbeck's hand, Planchette began at once to write rapidly and distinctly. I was not touching the machine, nor had I propounded any questions to it; yet it soon wrote in large letters, " Opera, by all means." Neither of my companions knew to what this referred or saw any connection in it with anything that had gone before, until I explained. " It is an answer to a question I was about to ask," I told them: " Shall I continue in concert or make further endeavor no PLANCHETTE AND PROPHECY in toward opera?" Here was a direct answer to my un spoken thought. Needless to say, we three were interested, and grew excited as Planchette went on to reply without hesitation to every query I put to it. Rudbeck's right hand was resting upon it, his left hand covering his eyes, which he opened only when the instrument stopped. My first spoken question was, " What operas shall I study? " Let me here remind the reader that at this time I had no operatic repertory, " The Basoche " being the only opera I had ever learned. Planchette replied, " The operas of Verdi and Wagner." I realized instantly that the operas of the two composers named contained remarkably fine barytone parts. But, excepting the romance to the Eve ning Star from " Tannhauser," I knew not a note of any of them. The next question I propounded to Planchette was, " Which of these operas shall I study?" The answer was, " Ai'da," " Tannhauser," " Tristan und Isolde," and " Die Meistersinger." We sat amazed. I was pleased as well, for no better parts exist than are to be found in these works, and my next question followed almost as a matter of course, " What parts shall I study? " There was a surprise for me at the end of the answer, which was " Amonasro, Wolfram, Kurwenal, and Beckmes- ser." This last disclosure puzzled me. I had heard u Die Meistersinger " sung more than once at Bayreuth, as well as in other places, and had laughed at Beckmesser, all the time so loving Hans Sachs that I was then trying to learn the noble music of that role, deeming Beckmesser too high, too unvocal, and too difficult for me to consider. I rather fancied myself as a vocalist, and therefore delib- ii2 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS erately put away all thought of Beckmesser. Now I was bidden to study it ! I could not account for it, but went on to ask my final question, " When shall I be engaged? " To this the re ply was, " In a couple of months you will know." After this, try as we would, no single word came from Plan- chette, whose board I had not touched during the ex periments. I was so impressed by what had taken place that the next day I secured an accompanist and began work on the part of Beckmesser, the length and difficulty of which were appalling to me. This labor was varied by study of the much easier roles of Amonasro and Wolfram, while Kurwenal, so much shorter and more sympathetic, sank into my mind more readily than any of the others. For two months I worked like a slave on these, accept ing, besides, an engagement to prepare the part of Al- berich in the entire first scene of " The Rheingold " and the part of Wotan in the first scene of " The Valkyrie." These I worked up with Carl Armbruster, one of Wag ner's assistant conductors at Bayreuth. The concert at which I performed this music took place on the afternoon of May 22 at Ham House, Richmond, the residence of Lord Dysart, president of the Wagner Society, which was invited on the master's birthday to hear selections from his music. As the company walked about the lawn after the af fair, I observed among the guests the familiar face of Sir Augustus Harris, the impresario of the opera at Covent Garden, to whom I had been instrumental not long before in suggesting that the universal use of the Italian language should be discontinued in opera. The next morning I had a message from my manager, PLANCHETTE AND PROPHECY 113 Daniel Mayer, to say that he had received from Harris a note asking if I knew the part of Beckmesser; as, if I did, I was to come at once to Covent Garden to rehearse it for performance with Jean de Reszke, Madame Albani, and Jean Lassalle, the barytone. As I read I thought I should die -of excitement, for now was the prophecy come true. " In a couple of months you will know," it said, and at that time I had been asked to do the least likely and most difficult of the parts I had been working on. Needless to say I accepted at once; but the rehearsals had not proceeded many days, when De Reszke caught a cold, because of which he asked to be excused temporarily from further preparation of so difficult a role as Walther, in view of his necessary ap pearances in other operas of the repertory. The rehear sals for " Die Meistersinger " were therefore postponed. As I left the stage, much discouraged, I was accosted by Sir Augustus Harris, whom I had never met person ally up to that moment, but who shook me cordially by the hand, saying: " I'm sorry that you can't sing the part of Beckmesser now, for it is going to suit you very well. Never mind, you shall have it when we do it. I like people who know things and are ready. By the way," added he, putting his hand into his breast pocket, " I have just had a letter from the German barytone who is here with the company from Hamburg to say that he has a bad cold and cannot sing the part of Kurwenal to morrow night. I wonder if you know that part?" I was standing on the stage of Covent Garden where the trap is that in the old version of " Faust " opened and let Mephistopheles through into another region. When Harris asked me the question I felt as if I should sink into the depths, such a failing was there of my heart at ii 4 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS being asked to do the second one of the characters which Planchette had advised me to study. I remained on deck, however, and, pulling myself together, I answered, " Yes; I know that part" " Good! " said he. " Mah ler is having a. rehearsal of the orchestra at Drury Lane now. You had better go over there and take your book with you. Watch carefully; it is catchy stuff, you know." I knew that it was " catchy stuff "; had I not for more than two months been caught in its toils? I went over and, sitting in a stage box with my book before me, paid every atom of attention of which I was capable to the music of my part as it came along. After the rehearsal I was taken by Gustav Mahler into the classic foyer of the theatre, where there was a piano at which he seated 'himself and took me through the whole role of Kurwenal, which I knew perfectly, leaving him satisfied that I could do it. It became mine on the following evening, June 25, 1892, without further rehearsal, except that Max Al- vary, the greatest Tristan of his time, showed me the positions upon the stage before the curtain arose upon each successive act. I may say without boasting, for it is merely a matter of record, that for a number of years I had no rival in the part of Kurwenal, nor in the part of Beckmesser. When this latter was finally produced I performed it so as to insure me the part, which, much as I enjoyed performing it, was so strenuous that had I not been blessed with what my mother called " the voice of a bull of Bashan " I should never have been able to live through it and the many other parts which immediately began to crowd upon me. When people say to me, " What but foolishness did any one ever get out of Planchette or any other so-called PLANCHETTE AND PROPHECY 115 spiritistic advice?" I tell them the story just narrated. My action in taking the advice I received whence it came, I know not resulted at the time indicated in my being fully prepared for what I was asked to do. In accepting this counsel and being ready with the parts I had been told to learn, I was undoubtedly enabled to accept the responsibilities whose execution straightway resulted in the foundation of my operatic career. So I was engaged at Covent Garden, and was given op portunities by Harris to do anything and everything. I was in no position to pick and choose, and was only too glad of the chance to obtain experience in my profession. It is to be remembered that I had been advised to pay particular attention to the operas of Verdi and Wagner; that I had been told to study the roles of Amonasro, Wolfram, Kurwenal, and Beckmesser; that " a couple of months " later I was actually engaged to sing Beckmesser, and that, upon the postponement of that part, I did in reality perform the role of Kurwenal. Now occurred another curious thing. One day as I was leaving Covent Garden after a rehearsal, I was ac costed by Castelmary, the regisseur of the company, and asked whether I knew the part of Amonasro well enough to take it that evening in the place of Victor Maurel, who had notified the management of his sudden indis position. The state of internal panic that ensued for the prophecy had now come true for the third time left me outwardly calm and I accepted the responsibility with the understanding that I should have nothing to think of but my part, the costumes and make-up being supplied me. Castelmary in loyalty to his old friend Maurel requested me to wait a while, saying that he thought, after all, that the management should give the n6 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS distinguished barytone another opportunity before let ting a newcomer take his place. A messenger was ac cordingly sent in a hansom cab, and presently returned with word from the great barytone that he would sing. Though I did not perform it the part was offered to me, the third of the four characters I had been advised to study, and I was ready to sing it. I have long intended to write to persons of standing in the investigation of such matters about this occurrence, which seems to have been almost beyond the possibility of mere chance. By some they may be set down in the class with the miracles of Lourdes; by others attributable to the phenomena of science; by Sir Oliver Lodge they may be attributed to spiritistic influence ; and any one who has read Maeterlinck's marvelous story of The Elberfeld Horses may readily imagine that the power that enabled them instantly to solve abstruse mathematical problems is the same " psychic flash " that illumined for me the un born future and showed me the path I should follow. But if you ask me my honest opinion, I am content to ac cept the facts as I found them, realizing that " there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy." CHAPTER XIV CLIMBING THE STEEPS Thither our path lies; wind we up the heights. Browning. MY connection with the Royal Opera, following upon what I had done before, immediately increased my pres tige in the eyes of the purveyors of music. As one result I made my first professional visit to Ireland, to take part in the Tercentenary celebrations of the University of Dublin, where I met Professor Max Miiller; and before long I appeared again at Covent Garden during the au tumn season, which was a sort of aftermath of the Royal Opera, due to the unprecedentedly busy summer season at the two historic theatres. It was then that I had the op portunity of singing several times as Kurwenal in " Tris tan and Isolde " under the conductorship of Armbruster, with the tenor Oberlaender, the dramatic soprano Pauline Cramer, and with Esther Palliser as the admirable Brangane, which she had, to the hurt of her voice, com mitted to memory in a marvelously short space of time. I also began to have a share in the production of clas sical music at other universities besides Dublin under Robert Stewart: at Cambridge under Villiers Stanford, and at Oxford, where Ernest Walker and W. H. Had- dow were leaders of the new movement. There are several persons whom I have to thank for the encouragement they gave me at this period of my career, among them George Bernard Shaw, then a music 117 ii8 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS critic and already widely known as a Fabian socialist, who had not at that time climbed far up the ladder of fame upon which he later mounted to such dizzy heights. I have always been treated well by the British Press, and have nothing but the kindest feeling toward all my crit ics, whether at that time or afterward they gave me helpful advice or chose to differ with me in respect to my interpretations. J. A. Fuller-Mai tland of the London Times I must ac knowledge as having been from first to last a constant friend both personally and professionally. It was at his house one night in December, 1892, after an evening of music in which I had taken my share, that I sang, prob ably for the first time in London, the prologue from the new opera " I Pagliacci," the part which, when I sang it later upon the stage, I always rendered in evening clothes, making a quick change into the clown's costume after the address to the audience. I consider that the prologue had nothing to do with the story of the opera and could as well be sung by any person not taking part in the opera itself. It is the address of an actor to his audience, in which he bids them understand that we upon the stage are mere human beings, just as our auditors are, animated by the same feelings, made of the same flesh and blood, and partaking of the same joys and sorrows. Among the conductors at Covent Garden was Armando Seppilli, from whom I have it that when Victor Maurel was about to create the part of Tonio in the city of Venice, he complained at the dress rehearsal that there was not enough in the part to give him the proper solo opportunity; and desired the composer to write an aria especially for him. It was obviously impossible thus to change an opera which had taken a prize, and upon this CLIMBING THE STEEPS 119 fact being called to Maurel's attention, he replied: " Very well; do not change the opera; write me a pro logue which can be sung in front of the curtain before the opera begins at all." Leoncavallo immediately ac cepted the suggestion, went home, and that night wrote the words and music. These were rehearsed the next day, thus supplying Maurel, and every other barytone, with the finest opportunity to show his mettle. Seppilli's story interested me, and I asked him how Maurel had dressed the part. He replied that the sing er's original intention was to sing it in evening clothes, as the prologue had nothing to do with the subsequent story. On second thought, however, both Maurel and the management came to the conclusion that the plain black and white of conventional evening dress were not sufficiently effective, and the barytone sketched an exag gerated but conventional clown's costume, which he not only wore in the prologue but throughout the opera. With this I personally do not agree. I made the change into such a dress as the clown of a strolling company would be likely to wear along the road and in the villages when the company was drumming up its audience for the evening. But in the second act, the scene of the perform ance upon the miniature stage, I put on a real clown's cos tume with pointed hat, wig, and baggy trousers, and made up my face over again, red cheeks and all. In the numerous concerts in which I appeared in Lon don, wherever I had choice of my selections, I did not fail, while introducing the classics of song, to honor our American composers, George W. Chadwick, Horatio W. Parker and Arthur Foote among them. I also performed the songs of many of my kind English colleagues, among them Arthur Somervell, the brilliant 120 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS Goring Thomas, Hubert Parry, Mackenzie, and Villiers Stanford. The latter was good enough to urge upon me the title role in his delightful Irish comedy opera " Shamus O'Brien," which I was unable to accept. I kept up my studies with Shakespeare, also practicing the operas of Mozart and Rossini with Randegger, or working on the songs of Tosti with their distinguished little composer, who was persona grata with Queen Vic toria and all the Court, as well as with the most dis tinguished operatic and other musical coteries of the metropolis. Valuable objects are done up in small pack ages, they say, and Tosti was no exception to the rule, being undoubtedly a valuable asset to his beautiful wife, who literally took him under her arm wherever she went. The story is told of her that at the conclusion of an after noon drive with a handsome duchess she had her carriage halted in the jam of vehicles at Hyde Park Corner by an enormous policeman. Madame Tosti, looking admir ingly at the representative of the law, said to the duchess in her charming Frenrh accent, " When Tosti die, I marry a policeman." Among my associates in concert, classical and popular, I find the names of the violinists Tivadar Natchez, Jo hannes Wolff, Emil Sauret, and the great master Auguste Wilhelmj, who was then about to retire from public life, all of whom were encouraging to me. I have ever deemed it to be of the highest importance for a vocalist to associate as frequently and as intimately as possible with instrumentalists, who by reason of their training are generally broader-minded, better musicians, and pos sessed of much higher ideals than seem to be vouchsafed to most singers. In the early days of 1893 I was asked by the dis- CLIMBING THE STEEPS 121 tinguished conductor and pianist, Sir Charles Halle, to take part in a series of his choral and orchestral concerts in Free Trade Hall, Manchester, where twenty-five years later, Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States, was to speak upon his much discussed plan for the League of Nations. In Halle's concert presentation of Wag ner's " The Flying Dutchman " I assumed the part of Daland to the Vanderdecken of Andrew Black, the Scotch barytone, who rightfully assumed for a period of years the mantle which was falling rapidly from the shoulders of Charles Santley. Plunkett Greene also began to sail up breezily over the horizon, and immediately made an enviable name for himself; as a song singer he will always be remembered by those who heard them. His interpretation of Irish ditties was quite beyond compare, and men as well as women were at the feet of this typical Irish gentleman. Edward Lloyd had become the legitimate successor of Sims Reeves, and was in the midst of a most successful and distinguished career. No other tenor upon the con cert stage was his equal; all acknowledged his superior ity; while among the contraltos the name of one who was to outrank all others was rapidly rising into prom inence, that of Clara Butt, whose majestic figure was equaled by the glory of a voice which is now well known throughout the world. I am proud to have been requested to go with Madame Melba upon a short concert tour in England and Ireland, about the time when Verdi's last opera, " Falstaff," that youthful emanation from the brain of an old man, was produced at La Scala Theatre, in Milan. Bearing in mind the advice of Planchette, I secured the first obtain able copy issued from the press of Ricordi, and had it 122 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS with me studying the part of Falstaff as I traveled. Melba expressed curiosity about the music I was so in tently poring over in the train one day and I told her of my strange experience with prophecies come true. This interested her so much that she strongly advised me to go to Milan as soon as our concerts were over and hear the performance of the title role by Maurel. This I did, and further studied the part with an accompanist there and with my old master Lamperti. Returning to London by the end of February to ap pear in the concerts which had been arranged for me, I was surprised to receive a letter from Mackenzie saying that he intended to give three lectures upon Verdi and his latest opera, " Falstaff," at the Royal Institution, and inviting me to assume the title role in it! During the following year, 1894, I played this part more than twenty times upon the stage, surrounded by most of the company I had seen supporting Maurel in Milan. CHAPTER XV WITH MANY TONGUES They have been at a great feast of languages. Shakespeare. ITALIAN, during my second season of opera at Covent Garden, despite the change that was obviously coming, was still the common denominator in languages. When I was given the promised opportunity at last to play the part of Beckmesser in " Die Meistersinger," it was with Madame Albani as Eva, Lassalle as Hans Sachs, and Jean de Reszke as Walther. Here were artists of four nationalities, and the opera, sung in Italian, was made still further interesting by the presence in the cast of Wiegand, a German, Guetary, a Spaniard, Hedmondt, an American, and several other Italian, German, and Eng lish-speaking men and women. Italian was the one ground upon which we could all meet with satisfaction, to ourselves, to the management, and to the audiences; these last, of course, not understanding a word that any of us sang. I have ever held that if u Madame Butterfly " were secretly rehearsed and rendered in Japanese, no one would know the difference except such of the Mi kado's subjects as might chance to be present! In 1893 I made my debut as Alberich in " Siegfried," as well as in Mascagni's second opera, " I Rantzau," un der the baton of the composer, and performed also the part of Hunding in " The Valkyrie," with Alvary. The grand opera season of 1893 was not yet finished 123 124 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS when I was engaged to go on tour with the company from Covent Garden, to which had been added most of the members of the " Falstaff " cast from Milan. Dur ing this tour of the British provinces, I was given my chance of performing new roles on which I had been as siduously working, in addition to my other duties. Among them were Falstaff, Nevers in " Les Huguenots," Alfio in " Cavalleria Rusticana," and the Toreador in " Carmen. 1 * I gained a deal of experience on this tour, the bright particular spot in which was the superb per formance of Gluck's " Orfeo " by Julia Ravogli. On its conclusion I filled another engagement at Crystal Palace at the Saturday orchestral concert under August Manns, when Miss Emma Juch made her first appearance after her brilliant operatic successes in Europe a few seasons before. In concerts I was a new quantity to the purveyors of music, who declared that I almost invariably sang over tfie heads of my audiences, selecting pieces which in their opinion were " caviar to the general." My concert rep ertory certainly included what I enjoyed singing: airs by Handel, selections from Purcell, ballads by Loewe, pieces by Schubert and Schumann, and advanced works by contemporary Englishmen. My reply, when somewhat taken to task for the severity of my selections, was, " I prefer breaking new ground to competition with every other barytone in London in a repertory which is com mon property." I believed then as now, that the artist with courage to climb high upon the ladder gets into a different atmosphere, and finds that people lift up their heads and look after him, follow him as far as they can, admire his progress, and attempt to breathe the rarer atmosphere in which he lives. 5 <* < - i s WITH MANY TONGUES 125 The result was my immediate and frequent engage ments thereafter at the Monday Popular Concerts at St. James's Hall with Lady Halle (Madame Norman Neruda), Joachim, and the most notable musicians of the day. By some power I have ever been led in the way of good; by the same power I believe myself to have been protected from evil. During the spring of 1893, I was approached by my friend, the late George Wilson, and asked to take part in Theodore Thomas's concerts at the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago that year. Though the contract had been signed, the engagement was canceled by reason of Thomas's change of plans, and I remained in England to go upon the operatic tour I have mentioned. Had I left for America, I was to have met my mother and her brother at Lake Mohonk, and accompanied them to my uncle's country-place on the coast of Maine for a short visit before I went to Chicago ; this was well understood, and the date fixed. Picking up a London paper that day my eyes fell upon a head line telling of a railway disaster near Springfield, Massachusetts, resulting in many deaths. Although no names were mentioned, I felt a distinct pang at my heart and knew my mother had been one of the victims. On reaching my home I found a dispatch from my uncle, telling me of the instant death of my mother. I was in wardly aware that I had escaped a similar fate by reason of the change of plans that kept me in England. As soon as I had filled the engagements already made in London and elsewhere, I set sail for New York to attend to business connected with my mother's estate. While there I had the opportunity of singing at one of Walter Damrosch's concerts at the newly erected Car- 126 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS negie Hall, when I assisted in the fiftieth anniversary of the first production of Balfe's " The Bohemian Girl," by singing selections from that tuneful opera, one of my numbers being " The Heart Bowed Down by Weight of Woe," which upon a previous occasion I had unthink ingly rendered at a concert given at an asylum for pa tients suffering with melancholia with the alleged object of cheering the inmates. The recollection of this came over me as I sang the well-known air at Carnegie Hall, and brought on a fit of hilarity which I had the utmost difficulty in restraining, almost causing me to disgrace myself by laughing aloud before the audience. Many years afterward I undertook to give the musical version by Henry Holden Huss of Shakespeare's Seven Ages of Man at the Edwin Forrest Home for Aged Actors, near Philadelphia. When I came to the Sixth Age, with its mention of " the lean and slippered pan taloon . . . his youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide for his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, turn ing again toward childish treble, pipes and whistles," it flashed upon me that I was performing before an audience made up of octogenarians, whom I was only too aptly describing to themselves. I was so embarrassed that I fairly forgot the Seventh Age, " last scene of all," and would have stood there like a schoolboy who has lost the thread of his declamation had not my good and trust worthy presence of mind come to my help. I tottered to the footlights, spoke to the bewildered accompanist, and said in an impromptu line which certainly is not Shakespearean, u I am so old I can't recall what comes next." To my surprise I was complimented on my " ef fective interpolation " by several of the eminent Shake spearean scholars who were present as guests, including WITH MANY TONGUES 127 Doctor Furness and Professors Schelling and Jastrow. It is the only time I ever attempted any addition to Shake speare, and I certainly never intend to make another. As a result of " The Bohemian Girl," I was at once engaged with Madame Nordica to sing in " The Mes siah " with the Oratorio Society of New York, the first of many occasions when the directors of this distinguished association did me the honor to ask me to appear before it. The pair of concerts at that time, in 1893, were so successful that an extra performance was given a few days later, and a good start made with the Oratorio So ciety. It is a matter of record in the annals of the soci ety, that I have sung with it more frequently than any other living person. I returned to London in time to fulfill my engagements with the Bach Choir as Amfortas in the first act of " Parsifal " under the direction of Professor Stanford, and thought then, as ever since when hearing " Parsifal," whether in Bayreuth or in New York, that Wagner's whole idea of effect in the stage setting and music per vading the Grail scene, must have been the result of his having heard in St. Peter's at Rome, Palestrina's greatest High Mass, than which nothing in musical literature is more impressive. It was my good fortune when studying in Italy to re ceive through my friend Esme Howard, at the time one of the secretaries of the British Embassy at Rome, a ticket which admitted me to St. Peter's on January i, 1888, when Pope Leo XIII was allowed by the Italian Government to celebrate mass for the first time in the cathedral. ' The ceremony was conducted before a con course of people so vast that it filled the enormous spaces of St. Peter's to their utmost capacity. The 128 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS Pope celebrated mass under the baldachino beneath the dome, while Palestrina's music was sung by the finest choristers of Rome, who for the occasion had been gathered in from the various churches to augment the choir of the Sistine Chapel. The day was cold and foggy and enormous icicles were hanging from every fountain in Rome. I was chilled to the bone, even in St. Peter's, into which the fog had penetrated the mistiness there being augmented by the fumes from the censers swung by the acolytes. The moment for the elevation of the Host had come. The music arose in ecstatic strains, silver trumpets pealed from the dome, and from the utmost heights sounded the exquisite voices of a boy choir. The aged Pontiff raised the sacred Chal ice, and at that moment the sun burst through the pall of cloud, sending a shaft of light through the windows of the south transept upon the white figure of Leo XIII, at the great moment, musically and dramatically, of the one supreme religious ceremony of our time. The throng fell upon its knees in adoration and in awe; it was as if God had touched with His finger His earthly representa tive and blessed him with the light of His countenance; indeed it was so accepted by the devout throughout the Roman Catholic world. It is curious to note how in my life events have crowded one upon another ; even though they matter little to any one but myself, to me they are remarkable enough. I find that one of my early engagements was in Edinburgh with the Scottish Orchestra, which had come into being and which was well on its way to success under the di recting hand of Georg Henschel; he who, when conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, had advised me WITH MANY TONGUES 129 against going before the public as a professional singer. I was sufficiently successful at this concert, however, to have the honor of being engaged on many subsequent occasions by the man I so admired. Mrs. Henschel used to tell with glee how, at their place in the Highlands, her husband, preparing during the sum mer for his forthcoming series of symphony concerts, would take his scores out to the lawn, where under a tree he spent hours in conducting an imaginary orchestra ; even correcting imaginary mistakes, by tapping with his baton upon the stand and pointing to some phantom instrument alist, saying, " F natural, not F sharp, Mr. Blank. Now we will go on, gentlemen, if you please." Henschel's influence was enormous throughout Great Britain. As a conductor he was in the first rank; as a composer he stood high; he was admirable indeed as an exponent of bass parts in oratorio ; but where to my mind he shone with the greatest brilliancy was in the series of concerts with his charming wife, which lasted through many years, and which were as well known in America as in England. Henschel was a master at the piano, and nothing short of a genius in the interpretation of classic songs, but he shared with his contemporaries, Max Heinrich and Doctor Ludwig Wiillner, the tonal pecul iarities which seem almost invariably and inevitably to be impressed upon the Teutonic throat. In this connection I am reminded of the visit which Madame Wagner made to Covent Garden in the early 'nineties, when she heard us in " Lohengrin." By " us " I mean Jean and Edouard de Reszke, Madame Schu- mann-Heink, Madame Nordica, and myself two Poles, one German, and two Americans, all of whom had 130 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS learned to sing in the best Italian manner. We were much pleased when Madame Wagner said of us on the stage after the performance, that for the first time in her life she had that evening heard the music of her hus band rendered " from a melodious standpoint." CHAPTER XVI FESTIVAL AND UNIVERSITY Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell ; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before. Tennyson. WITH me in 1894 all was going well. At the opening of the year I was offered many engagements of increas ing interest. I appeared in London with Joachim and his quartette, with the Spanish violinist Sefior Arbos, and with Leonard Borwick, one of England's finest pianists. I traveled far and wide in the British Isles to sing in oratorio and concert for my kind and increasingly ap preciative clientele. I may thank God that the health bequeathed me by my ancestors, the training received from my mother, and my own artistic enthusiasm kept me then, as they have ever kept me, fully and eagerly oc cupied, glad of my opportunities and grateful for the approbation and trust that the public has bestowed upon me. Engagements followed upon engagements : Bach's " Passion Music " at Queen's Hall, with Joachim as the solo violinist and Dolmetsch accompanying on the old- time harpsichord; Gounod's "Redemption" at Crystal Palace; and Mackenzie's fine oratorio "Bethlehem" at the Royal Albert Hall. Among women much in the public eye in those times was Liza Lehmann, the admirable song writer and con cert soprano, and a very beautiful contralto with an 132 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS equally beautiful voice the lady shall be nameless who failed after a few important engagements because of her poor musicianship. Loveliness may attract, a voice may charm, exquisite manners may captivate, influence may launch an individual; but musicianship is the only thing that can keep a singer going in a world of musicians. How often have I not been ashamed of vocalists who, unable to render their parts correctly even in oratorio, where they may carry the music in their hands, are quietly laughed at by the clever instrumentalists behind them in the orchestra, who play for union wages, while the sing ers themselves are receiving princely fees and royal hom age! Among my colleagues at this time was an American tenor, now gone, whose stage name was Orlando Harley. I mention him to show what determination will do for an artist who sets out to win. This young man was the son of a banker in the Middle West, and had been edu cated at the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, from which he was suspended for some slight breach of discipline. Considering himself unjustly used, he de clined either to return to Annapolis or to accept a position in his father's bank, declaring that he intended to become a singer a career ,which did not meet with the ap probation of his parents. He left home one night provided with such money as he could get together, and went to New York, where he lived at the Fifth Avenue Hotel for a few days, while he sought in vain for engagements at the Metropolitan Opera, in comic opera, upon the stage in Broadway shows, in church choirs, and in concerts. Finding his funds de creasing, he went to a second-rate hotel, then to a lodg ing house, and finally found himself with credit gone, all FESTIVAL AND UNIVERSITY 133 his clothes in pawn except the suit upon his back, and only five cents in his pocket. With this last nickel he bought himself a bag of biscuits, which he washed down with water from the fountain in Madison Square. Biscuits gone, he had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours and woke on a bench by the fountain in the morn ing, shivering, his sole protection against the cold a news paper drawn over his knees after it had blown in his di rection. Gazing blankly at it, his eyes fell upon an ad vertisement for a porter wanted in a business house down town; and, taking this as a good omen, he proceeded to the address indicated. Keeping his hands behind him he was interviewed by a kindly employer, who, shrewdly judging the young man to be a gentleman in trouble, invited him to tell his story and his name. Refusing to give his real name until he had made a name for himself, the young tenor told his tale and announced his inten tion to become known yet, despite his recent hard luck. He was taken into the office, his employer being also a musical enthusiast, received vocal lessons in part pay ment for his services, and was given a chance to show what he could do, with the result that before long he found himself making his way pleasantly in Europe, and on the threshold of a distinguished career, which was un fortunately cut short by death. I was selected to be among the principals in all three of the Bach Festival concerts of 1895, a privilege that I highly appreciated, for it showed me the trust reposed in me by Stanford and his associates and led me straight into such oratorio work throughout the United Kingdom as otherwise would not have come to me. Opportunity is important, but still more important is the ability to embrace it. 134 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS It was about that time that I sang, too, under the baton of Frederic Cowen, who soon after became con ductor of the Philharmonic Society. Many a time have I had the honor of working with that brilliant conductor and composer, who for a period after the death of Halle conducted his orchestra till Richter was secured. I also sang in a series of performances in the Wagnerian con certs under Felix Mottl at Queen's Hall, London. This series was also conducted with his left hand by Siegfried Wagner who, had it not been for the in terest of his mother at Bayreuth, might never have been permitted to direct the music dramas there. Although he knew every note by heart and led without the score, and though the orchestra had the work so well in hand that it was nearly impossible for a mistake to be made, still all looked with distrust upon Siegfried's efforts as a conductor. He had composed an opera, which had been performed; but all his best friends thought he should have kept to his original profession of architecture. It was only natural, however, that he should be of assistance at Bayreuth, where his face and figure as he grew older were so strikingly like those of his distinguished father as to be positively uncanny as he went to and fro busying himself with the productions, or mingling with the nota ble society that thronged the little town for so many summers. By this time, as it may be supposed, I was gathering to gether quite a repertory. I had been engaged to sing at Oxford for the University Musical Club, where I gave songs by Schubert, Schumann, Brahms and Wagner, with old Italian and modern English selections, and I was in vited to appear later at one of the first of a long series of FESTIVAL AND UNIVERSITY 135 Sunday night concerts, given in the great hall of Baliol College. Thus I was enabled as I went along to live up to my mother's injunction to do the best that was in me in up holding the dignity of my art; but I never forgot that as " one star differeth from another star in glory " so does one audience differ from another in intelligent ap preciation of music. It was possible to give on Sunday night at Oxford University what would have been quite out of place on Saturday afternoon at a Ballad Concert in St. James's Hall, where the audience would neither have expected nor enjoyed the music fitting for the classic pre cincts of one of the world's most distinguished seats of learning. I had already begun giving concerts of my own in London v When engaged by others one defers to the opinion of one's employers; " He who pays the piper calls the tune," and one must play in accordance with the wishes of one's patrons. It is different when one branches out for oneself in any art. Therefore, as I had long been partial to Schumann's music, I determined to give a concert devoted entirely to his works. I was as sisted by Fanny Davies, pianist; the Americans, Mrs. Henschel, soprano, and Marguerite Hall, alto; with my master William Shakespeare as the tenor. Thus began on June 8, a series of recitals which have lasted until the present day, twenty-five years. During this time I have given about 800 concerts and recitals of my own. The most important work of that season was that which occupied me at the Royal Opera, when it fell to my lot to sing Vulcan in Gounod's " Philemon and Baucis," besides other things which I had done before; and I 136 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS played both at Drury Lane and Covent Garden, as Ot- tokar in " Der Freischiitz," Pizarro in " Fidelro," and Wolfram in " Tannhauser " all for the first time. These made a total of fifteen appearances, which in ad dition to the concert work of which I have spoken, and the preparation for " Falstaff," soon to be performed on tour, gave me indeed busy days and nights. Looking back upon this and many similar years, I won der how I ever got through them. Even so have I won dered, when climbing in the Alps and looking back from the distance of miles at the scene of some perilous descent, how I could ever have negotiated those precipices and come out alive ! Among the artists who performed the Wagnerian op eras, besides Max Alvary and others of whom I have already spoken, was the brilliant soprano Katharina Klafsky, then in the prime of her art both as a singer and as an actress. Histrionically she was the equal of Alvary, which is saying a great deal, for he had as fine a dramatic talent as I have ever met in a vocalist. It was only a few years later that the voice of Madame Klafsky was hushed in death. So greatly beloved was she in Hamburg, where she had sung for many years, that her dead body was borne through the streets on an open bier, Elizabeth-like, and followed by thousands whose streaming eyes bade a last farewell as they gazed upon the waxen features of the beautiful face they had loved and admired so often on the stage as it passed for ever from their sight. Max Alvary, too, has gone, after a meteoric career cut all too short. He was the son of the painter Andreas Achenbach, and his father and sisters, who had social FESTIVAL AND UNIVERSITY 137 aspirations, felt the singer had disgraced the family name by singing in opera, heedless of the fact that he had made a great name for himself, while his manly beauty gave his audiences many a picture better worth the seeing than any painting of them all. In 1894 we were still giving " I Maestri Canton " in Italian at Covent Garden. That year, the beautiful Madame Emma Eames, one of the prides of American vocal art, made her debut as Eva to the Walther of Jean de Reszke. Plan^on was Pogner and Ancona was Hans Sachs, a part as difficult for him to study as it was for me to have committed the part of Beckmesser to memory. As I drove from my house in Kensington Gore to Cov ent Garden in a hansom cab I frequently had the score in my lap studying it along the crowded thoroughfares. On one occasion I remember looking up and catching the eye of Villiers Stanford, who greeted me from the side walk as I passed. Meeting him that evening at a private party, he hailed me with a laugh, saying: " As you drove along there to-day you looked exactly like Beck messer sitting in his box." I said: " How remarkable! I was studying the part of Beckmesser at the time." So it is; I seem to realize the part I am learning to the extent of becoming almost the living embodiment of what ever fictitious or historical character I am called upon to represent. I have been so carried away by the spirit of my own impersonations that I have lost myself com pletely and for hours together have not had a thought of my own, the actualities of the evening being the dream, the artistic dream the actuality. This completeness of identification is not arrived at with ease or without long study, or even then by any effort of will. It begins with 138 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS my preliminary view of the part I am to assume and pro ceeds step by step with my understanding of it from every bearing upon which I can adjust my vision. To me " All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." I carry this from the human beings who are on the scene with me, every one as real in his assumption of a character as mine is to me, to the very stage interior in which the scene is enacted, which becomes as much a reality as any hall in any building made of perdurable stone. It is a matter of amazement to me that the principal characters of drama, and of fic tion, are far more real than almost any out of the millions on millions of human beings who have lived and gone, leaving no memory behind. This feeling is more general than may be at first believed, but many a part acted by us players upon the stage is more vividly remembered by our auditors than the actual persons they meet in private life. CHAPTER XVII THE FAT KNIGHT Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. Shakespeare. IN a month the company from Covent Garden went on tour. Consulting my records I find that I was put down for Wolfram in Italian, in which language I had first studied the opera, though for the performances with Alvary I had to work it over again in the original Ger man; for Nevers in " Les Huguenots," for the Toreador in " Carmen "; for Vulcan in " Philemon and Baucis " in French; for Tonio in "I Pagliacci," and for Alfio in " Cavalleria Rusticana." I was also expected to do both Mephistopheles and Valentine in " Faust " and had to be ready to sing both Hans Sachs and Beckmesser in Italian in " Die Meistersinger." That was my reper tory, and I prepared myself to perform any or all of these characters as called upon. The company being large, however, and the susceptible feelings of its foreign members having to be taken into consideration, I was asked to relinquish the part of Sachs, and Falstaff was given me instead. Much as I have longed to perform Hans Sachs, I have never been per mitted to do so in opera; and upon this tour, even the part of Beckmesser was given to Pini Corsi, than whom there never was a finer buffo singer. As Ford in " Fal staff " he and I, with Julia Ravogli as Dame Quickly, had 139 140 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS great fun, and eagerly looked forward to our perform ances. Our tour opened at Blackpool in Lancashire, with which county my family name had been associated for so many centuries, and the week we played at the Opera House Beerbohm Tree was also acting in Blackpool. I had been a great admirer of his amazing performance of Falstaff on the stage of the Haymarket Theatre, London, of which he was for years the manager, and had previously consulted him as to my costume and make-up. The in terest he took in my performance was such that he came to my dressing room and gave me valuable hints, even painting my face with his own master hand, laying on the high lights and counseling me from the wealth of his own experience in this character how to make the audience feel that I was the great, gray, gross, greasy glutton I should appear to be. Tree went off to his own theatre while I in nervous agony proceeded with my own difficult part. In this character, not more than a few square inches of my actual self were visible to the audience; all they saw was what surrounded the poor little entity of me inside. On my legs were enormous pads made of sheep's wool, sewed inside of stockinette and so shaped as to resemble, when drawn on, what, of course, they should resemble, the legs of a fat man. In the first act I wore great boots that came above my knees; these, too, looked fat. About my body I had a sort of mattress into the padded arms of which I thrust my own arms while my dresser tied the whole contrivance up the back with many strings. Over this was a great leather jerkin, and over that again a cape. But all this was easy to put on and take off; the difficult and time-consuming element in the THE FAT KNIGHT 141 assumption of the fat knight's character was the make-up of the face and head. The beard had been especially constructed so that what seemed to be a pink skin, a triple chin, and a pair of fat jowls showed through a rather thin blond beard begin ning to gray. This was held in place by a stout elastic band over my head, but, for safety's sake, it was also gummed to my skin. Below the chin a long flap of skin- like material hung down upon my breast and was tied under my arms behind. From the right side and from the left a fat neck seemed to descend into my clothing, and when the wig was put on a flap at the back resembling the many folds of a fat man's neck ran under my costume down my back and was tied around in front of me by tapes. The nose, pimpled, purple, and groggy, I fash ioned out of a sort of putty which comes for the purpose and is supposed to stick to the flesh. When at last I was fully made up and costumed, and was getting along well into the middle of the opera, I found myself in such a bath of perspiration, descending like the precious ointment even unto Aaron's beard, that my heavy clothing was soaking wet, and my head and face were reeking with sweat that ran down inside of my whis kers. Unfortunately it also ran down my forehead and under the false nose, which was seen by the audience to loosen and elongate. At last, amid the shrieks of the spectators, the nose quietly slid from my face, down my " fair round belly," and dropped upon the stage under my feet. I could not see it over my huge front and, with my next step, accidentally trod upon the slippery mass and was thrown flat upon the floor. The audience, already in a state of merriment over the comedy, went almost hys terical with laughter, but I had to go bravely on with my 142 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS part after being picked up, and glad enough was I that my disguise was thick enough to conceal my mortification. Tree had invited me to supper with him after the per formance, and I recounted my uncomfortable experience to him and Haddon Chambers, whose play he was acting. We all had another good laugh when Tree told us of his own experience the first time he played Falstaff, when the string which tied his trunks on broke and the trou sers slipped down around his heels until he could not move his feet at all, but had to hop off the stage to have his costume readjusted, while his audience enjoyed his mishap as heartily as mine had reveled in my misfortune. Such things as these help to carry us merrily through the arduous duties of our profession, where every night we live a life within a life. True indeed it is as Shake speare says, u One man in his time plays many parts"; yet not all the plays ever devised can match the experi ences of actual life. I played Falstaff more than twenty times that season and lost as many pounds in weight by the experience, los ing also my temper nightly while getting into that miser able, uncomfortable costume ; but my dresser knew how to take me, and a good tip would salve his wounded feelings as quickly as cocoa butter would obliterate my own dis guise and bring me to myself once more. Almost as many stories are told of Beerbohm Tree as used to be circulated about Sir Henry Irving. Both these extraordinary actors are said to have taken all such tales as tributes to their popularity and with the best of grace, even to the enjoyment of seeing their peculiarities imitated by others. But Tree never quite relished the caustic wit of W. S. Gilbert, whom I heard make his fa mous commentary on Tree's performance of Hamlet. A DAVID BISPHAM as The Vicar, in Lehmann's " Vicar of Wakefield." From a Photograph by Bacon & Sons, Newcastle-on-Tyne, DAVID BISPHAM as Falstaff, in Verdi's " Falstaff." From a Photograph by Crookes, Edinborough THE FAT KNIGHT 143 number of the actor-manager's friends came on the stage at the Haymarket Theatre after his first appearance in that difficult role and Tree asked Gilbert frankly how he liked his impersonation of the melancholy Dane. Gil bert with a look of ingenuous innocence replied: " My dear fellow, I never saw anything so funny in my life, and yet it was not in the least vulgar." In further conversation Gilbert contributed his bit to the solution of the Shakespearean enigma by saying: " Hamlet, you know, was a man idiotically sane, with lucid intervals of lunacy." During this tour I was interested in making a trans lation of " Falstaff " which should if possible better that of Beatty Kingston, parts of which he had acknowledged to me not to be to his satisfaction. Knowing my Shake speare well I made memoranda throughout the vocal score for lines which, in the event of my ever performing it in English, could be used by myself at least, adapting from ether plays of Shakespeare such actual phrases as fitted Verdi's notes. It has unfortunately never fallen to my lot to sing the opera in English, but the version follows which I have used on countless occasions in my concerts when rendering the delightful song in which the fat Knight endeavors to commend his vast bulk to his lady love by telling her how thin and slender he used to be when he was young; thus ? When I was page in the old Duke's house, Comely of figure and quick as a mouse, I was a vision supple and tender, Nimble and slender so slender! That was a gay and a merry time, forsooth; The May-day and heyday of my happy youth; I was able to ogle, to coax, and to wheedle, 144 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS Slim enough to slip through the eye of a needle, When I was page so comely and tender, Nimble and slender! I was a vision supple and tender, Nimble and slender so slender! When I was page to the old Duke's Grace, Matrons and maids of illustrious race Rewarded my service and homage with many And many a loving embrace. Then was I courted, favored by the fair, Heart-whole and happy, knowing not a care ; Merely to live was ineffable pleasure, Endless enjoyment and bliss without measure. When I was page so comely and tender, etc. Our tour took us to the principal cities of England, Scotland, and Ireland. It was while in the capital where " old Scotia's grandeur springs " that an Italian soprano and I visited the ancient cathedral of St. Giles. Under a bleak and lowering sky in a Scotch mist we came upon the gray and forbidding-looking edifice, and the child of the sunny south asked me, with a real desire to be in formed on so grave a subject, " Do they have the same God here that we do in Italy? " Our journey over, I resumed my concerts, singing that autumn selection from " The Mastersingers " and " The Valkyrie " with the best of all Wagnerian interpreters, Hans Richter, with whom it was my privilege to work many a time afterward, deriving the greatest benefit from association with him. Taking it all in all, and looking back upon a long line of orchestral conductors, I con sider him to be the chiefest of them all. It is much to be regretted that he never came to America, for Richter said he would come if Joachim came; and Joachim said he would attempt the journey if Richter did, but as a mat- THE FAT KNIGHT 145 ter of fact neither of them wanted to cross the ocean, even to visit the New World. Deeply impressed as are all these experiences upon my memory, nothing can ever obliterate from it Tristan's death scene, when for the first time I played Kurwenal with Max Alvary. I seemed not only to be living the character, but to be dying it no less. After my fashion of merging myself in my part I seemed then, as always since, actually to be the old servitor dying by the side of his friend for whom he had fought, like some faithful dog kissing the hand of his master as the last act of a devoted life. During the season of 1894 I sang for the first time in Berlioz's " Damnation of Faust " as Mephistopheles, a part in which on many subsequent occasions I reveled, and was also concerned with Arnold Dolmetsch, the expert in old instruments, in the revival of the comedy by Bach called " The Peasant's (Bauern) Cantata," which was given at Staple Inn in the very room where it had been performed nearly a century and a half before and with in struments of the kind actually then in use. Saint-Saens' beautiful opera, " Samson and Delilah/' was another work new to me which I performed with Santley soon after. It is a great favorite upon the English concert platform, offering fine opportunities for both principals and chorus, yet it may not be heard as an opera by reason of the existence of a law forbidding the stage presentation of any scriptural episodes. Still within my recollection Massenet's " Herodiade " has been performed at Covent Garden, but under another title and with the familiar biblical names duly changed. So goes on the merry game of " beating the devil about the hush." CHAPTER XVIII ARTS AND LETTERS The very knowledge of many arts, however we may follow another, helps to equip us for our own. Tacitus. I LIVED for ten years at No. 19, Kensington Gore, close by the Royal Albert Hall and opposite Kensington Palace Gardens. In that little house I entertained many a celebrity of the day, with many evidences of the friend ship of persons in the musical, artistic, and literary worlds. The great painters, Watts, Millais, Leighton, Poynter, Alma-Tadema, Dicksee, Burne-Jones, were my friends, with the Americans, Whistler and John S. Sargent. Sargent was not only fond of music, but played the piano remarkably well, and I often sang to his admirable accompaniments. One Sunday he and I were bicycling to a luncheon party at the house of Madame Liza Leh- mann, a few miles out of town, when it came on to rain, leaving the roads so slippery that our wheels skidded and threw both the painter and me into the mud and water at the roadside. We picked ourselves out in a dread ful mess, arriving at our destination in such a state of unsightliness that we had to be supplied with fresh cloth ing. Madame Lehmann's husband, Herbert Bedford, was of middle height and slender, Sargent was tall and stout, I was short and thick; and the effects of the bor rowed clothing were ridiculous. Sargent put his host's trousers on wrong side before and concealed the open deficiency with a frock coat, while I had to turn up both 146 ARTS AND LETTERS 147 coat sleeves and trousers. We arrived in the dining- room an hour late, such scarecrows in appearance that the uproarious merriment greeting us fairly stopped the show. I was visiting cousins of Mendelssohn, the Alfred Beneckes, who lived at Dorking, neighbors to George Meredith, poet and novelist, in whose honor a dinner party was given. Grant Allen, also a neighbor, was among the guests, and proved to be the first man I had ever known who used the typewriter in composing his nu merous books, including his biography of Herbert Spencer. This noted philosopher, like Allen himself, was keenly sensitive to the beauty of the speaking voice, yet neither could tell one note of music from another or had any ap preciation of the art. This I learned while we were wait ing for our guest of honor, wondering why he should be so late. After what seemed an interminable time George Mer edith came in, or rather stumbled in, after walking across the half mile of meadowland between the two houses. He apologized for his tardiness, speaking very fast and very loud, and holding himself steady by means of a chair, a table, the mantelpiece, or whatever he chanced to be near. With all his reputation for abstemiousness I feared the eminent author was under the influence of liquor, especially when he failed to regain either poise or manner until we were seated at the dinner table. The poor man had, it proved, suffered a slight stroke of pa ralysis not long before, which he was doing his best to conceal from his friends, though knowing that it would increase upon him and might end his life at any moment. I saw Meredith many times after that and was often with him in the little workroom he had built on Box Hill i 4 8 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS near his house. After he became too ill to go even so far from home, I used to sit in his little cottage and listen to his most interesting talk. He was keenly sympathetic and drew me out about my aspirations in my work and the manner in which I came to be a singer. He expressed his open regret to me about his own failure to make his delicate and delightful work more widely known, for it was only toward the end of his life that he began to reap the rewards of fame in the increased circulation of his novels and poems. Then it was that the people be gan to make pilgrimages from far and near, from Europe and America, to the simple abode of this great literary artist, and yet he said to me : " How fortunate you are, my dear fellow, to find yourself appreciated while you are still in the prime of manhood, and can enjoy it. Here I am hanging on to my chair, and only in my declining years am I known to exist by the world at large." Not long after this brave old soul joined the com pany of his fellow immortals. Fortunate indeed are we as heirs of the fruits of such genius ! It was Meredith who told me of the first marriage of the painter, Frederick G. Watts, and its unhappy ter mination. We had been speaking of a recent visit to his friend's studio, and he began, " That reminds me " and went on with the curious story. Years before, when Watts was painting the portrait of the exquisite girl who was to become so widely known to fame as Ellen Terry, he was disappointed in one of the sittings. Her elder sister, who had been her constant companion, came to him alone to say that Ellen would not return. Express ing his surprise and his fear lest he had given offense, he was told that the girl had fallen in love with him, ARTS AND LETTERS 149 though knowing he was old enough to be her father, and would not see him again, understanding the hopelessness of her passion. The famous painter, possibly flattered at having en gaged the regard of a woman so young and so charming, considered it his duty, perhaps, as well as his privilege, to offer her his hand and heart. This he did in all chiv alry through the sister. Departing with the tender mes sage, she returned presently with the radiant Ellen, who threw herself into the arms of him who soon became her husband. Meredith went on to tell me of a dinner party given in the studio after the wedding, the guests being the most eminent men of the day in art and letters. The fair young hostess was not expected to be present after she had greeted her husband's friends in the drawing-room. But she went quietly to her own apartment, arrayed herself in the costume of Ariel she had provided, let herself through the skylight into the studio with a rope ladder, and landed without warning in the center of the dinner table, where she posed and danced before the astonished assemblage. " Imagine," said Meredith, " the surprise of the guests, and imagine the chagrin of poor Watts, who chid his young wife and bade her leave the room, mortified and cut to the heart. She not only left the room, but she left her husband's house that night and never went back to him. And both of them, after the divorce, married again and married happily." At the country house of Lady Palmer, where I was a frequent guest, I met the ill-omened genius, Oscar Wilde, still at the height of his fame and a prime favorite in London society. Few men have been more brilliant in conversation, as he knew very well, for he knew his own 150 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS value in the world of letters and of the theatre. He had given up his earlier eccentricities after his marriage, set tled himself in Tite Street, Chelsea, and was devoting himself to the poems and plays upon which his better reputation will rest. I have always thought it a symptom of his oncoming madness that he should have made such a confession as that contained in his brilliant novel, u The Portrait of Dorian Gray " ; apropos of which his unsus pecting wife once complained to a friend of mine, " Since Oscar wrote ' Dorian Gray ' no one will speak to us." With his downfall came the instant withdrawal of his sparkling comedies from the stage of the St. James's The atre, and for years the disgrace he had inflicted upon English society was so deeply felt that his name was never mentioned. George Alexander was wise to have produced such plays, as he was wise in giving his stage to the delight ful work of Arthur Pinero, and few were the failures laid up against him and his management, his shrewd and charming little wife proving herself the most competent of advisers. But they made one serious mistake, which could hardly have been guarded against, in bringing out the dramatization of Henry James's novel, " The Amer ican," the premier of which I attended. I had admired the book from the time of its publication and went to the theatre with eager anticipation thinking the story would attract London society. I thought the play admirably con structed and of marked literary interest. It was admira bly acted, too, with the exception of the protagonist, as sumed by Alexander himself, who was quite un-American. I had known Henry James for years in London, where his works were greatly admired by persons of discern ment, though little more calculated than Meredith's to ARTS AND LETTERS 151 gain the plaudits of the populace, and he was not known at all as a writer of plays. The first night the house was divided against itself, the connoisseurs in the stalls en joying it as frankly as the pit and gallery disliked it. At the fall of the curtain rapturous applause burst out from one, and an unmerciful hissing and booing from the other. Mr. Alexander thought to quiet the disturb ance by bringing on the author, for whom the stalls were shouting, but the rest of the house showed its disapproval so vehemently that Mr. James retired in confusion, to be called on again by the better element and booed off once more by the other persons in the house. The play was withdrawn forthwith, and the great novelist sought no more for dramatic laurels. George Moore frequented my house for the sake of the musical company to be found there, and the novel he produced, hardly, I venture to hope, as the result of his visits, was the shocking " Evelyn Innes." In those days he had fair straight hair, his eyes were pale blue, and his complexion light in hue. He always looked to me like a living water color. One may note, in studying Walter Sickert's portrait of him, the feeling that one is looking right through his head into a sky behind. But one forgot his personal appearance when under the charm of his vivid conversation. Morton Fullerton, who took Blowitz's place on the London Times, told me a humorous story of Lord Tenny son which deserves recording. He was walking with the Poet Laureate near his place in the Isle of Wight, when they saw at a distance what appeared to be two wandering tourists. The famous man showed and spoke with every sign of perturbation, palpably annoyed by the approach of mere curiosity seekers. The intruders 152 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS passed without the least recognition of the presence of genius, when the poet broke out in even stronger accents of annoyance, " Why, they didn't even look at me ! " I have visited the quaint and ancient house of Coventry Patmore at Lymington, some little way south of South ampton, a very old brick structure furnished with a beau tiful and striking simplicity in perfect keeping with the dress and characters of its inmates. The Angel of the House, to whom the poet addressed so many of his verses, had gone some time before, leaving behind her two daugh ters whose apparel in both cut and texture reminded me always of the clothes of my own Quaker people . more so than of any other persons I have ever met, though the Patmores were devout Roman Catholics. It is interesting to speculate upon the tenuous laurels of one so devoted to work of the sincerest and most artistic character, whose present fame seems so largely to rest on the beautiful and touching lines of " The Toys," a single poem out of several volumes. Sir Richard Burton is a man I am proud to have num bered among my acquaintances, and a man of more strik ing appearance and assured greatness I have never seen. He was a large man, and looked like nothing so much as an old lion short gray hair and a bronzed skin seamed with scars, and a manner that bespoke the independence that so marked his striking career. His knowledge of Arabic and his miraculous escape from the perils of his self-imposed pilgrimage to Mecca with all the qualities of heart and mind that this bespoke, entitled him to al most any gift at the hands of Government, but his im patience of control made it impossible for him to work with others. His beautiful and almost too pious wife ARTS AND LETTERS 1 5 3 was a fit mate for him in personality, making them a won derful couple merely to sit and watch. One of the delectable old English country houses where I was often welcomed was that of Sir Lawrence Jones, where I shall never forget the little play, quite in the manner of the Pyramus and Thisbe episode in " A Mid summer Night's Dream," which was given one evening by the peasants of the neighborhood for the edification of the quality. It was redolent with the same unconscious humor which Shakespeare made immortal, and provided us with laughter and delicious phrases from an older time, which lasted many a day. Sir Lawrence inherited a trunkful of documents and old letters from his grand parents' time, through which he went one day with the intention of proving the general worthlessness of them all before condemning them to destruction. Among much that had lost all value he discovered an envelope superscribed in his grandmother's handwriting with a note that stated the lock of hair it contained to be that of the great Napoleon, cut from his head just after his death by General Montholon, who was one of the former emperor's suite at St. Helena, and given by him to Sir Lawrence's grandfather. He was generous enough to share this with me, and I have it still, with the authenti cation, " Cut from Napoleon's head immediately after his death," and signed with my friend's name. My early friendship with that shy and retiring woman of many gifts, Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, has been mentioned, and it was to her that I sent that unfortu nate child of genius, the sculptor John Donoghue, who made an admirable portrait bust of her little son Lionel after his untimely death. Donoghue was discovered by 154 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS Oscar Wilde in Chicago, where he was working on tomb stones and memorials of that nature. His ability was so marked that one of the rich men of that city sent him to Rome, and there as the climax of his artistic career he modeled not only his beautiful " Sophocles," but a heroic figure called " The Spirit," a conception so huge that nothing less than the dome of the ancient Baths of Dio cletian would suffice for its production. I have a photo graph of it, showing the sculptor not reaching to the knee of the seated figure. It was intended to exhibit it at the Columbian Exposi tion in 1893, and the gigantic plaster mass was cut into sections and shipped to New York from Rome for that purpose. But the size of these fragments was so great that they could not be transported by railway to their destination. The steamship company by which they had been sent demanded their removal and I was noti fied to that effect as the friend of Donoghue. I went to the Commissioner of Parks in New York, and offered him the statue, which he would have placed overlooking one of the lagoons provided I defrayed the expense. This was greater than I could afford, and this mas terpiece was broken into small bits and scattered over the surface of empty lots near the docks. Donoghue's disappointments proved too much for him after he re turned to America, and he died by his own act. It was with John Sargent again that I saw the " Aga memnon " given at Radleigh College, Oxford, and once more we were doomed to a thorough drenching from the rain. But he escaped another downpour when the same play was given in the Harvard Stadium, escaping also one of the most laughable spectacles that great tragedies sometimes lend themselves to in the most unexpected ARTS AND LETTERS 155 manner. Part of the orchestra was delayed, and the per formance began without that knowledge having been con veyed to the stage management. The play was prema turely opened by the appearance of the Herald on the battlements when, word being given him, he did not de liver his lines, but sat down on the parapet and dangled long legs over them in spite of the rain. Presently the belated instrumentalists arrived, running to escape being soaked, and ducking down to their quarters under the altar like frightened rabbits. This altar had practi cable steps on one side only, and when George Riddle appeared as Tiresias followed by his attendants, as he stalked serenely in front the bearer of the libation tripped and spilled it all over the platform, and the bearer of the sacred flame stepped on the wrong side, with the result that the frightened violinists below were abruptly stopped by another pair of long legs falling through the approach to the altar, while the sacred fire never was lighted. I was present at a gathering in the old Press Club in Chicago during the closing days of Sir Henry Irving's last engagement in that city. The great tragedian was suffering then from what eventually brought about his death. When he was called upon to respond to the en comiums which had just been pronounced upon his work, he rose and stood silent before that gathering of the rep resentatives of all the newspapers there vainly trying through the space of minutes to gather his thoughts. I cannot forget the anxious face of his son Laurence, or the suspense that hung like a threat above the assemblage. But men of the stage long since learned self-command, and he spoke at last, slowly and impressively, gathering strength as he proceeded, until he closed with a ring of himself in his best days. 156 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS One of the compensations for the arduous life that must be led by one who seeks a career as a public per former, whether actor or singer, may be found in the records of this chapter, which recount only a few of the interesting events that have befallen me outside the strict limits of my profession, and but few of the host of men and women of note whom I have met and known in Europe and America. It is hardly too much to say that there are few bearers of distinguished names in the world which takes beauty, in sound, in form, in color, or in word, for its daily worship, whom I have not numbered among my friends in my own day and generation. CHAPTER XIX PHANTOMS OF HARMONY Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: Do I wake or sleep? EMIL SAUER, the pianist, was among my valued friends in London at this stage of my progress, and it is to him that I owe later one of the charming experiences of my life. He played his own beautiful piano concerto with the Philharmonic Orchestra in New York, and its per formance gave me a vision of pure music, much as I am able to visualize the characters I assume on the stage. I was in a box at Carnegie Hall, and as Sauer played his delightful strains, I was wholly detached from my sur roundings. I became aware that it was a summer morn ing, with the weather fine but hot. Toward noon the heat grew oppressive, and the engaging landscape spread before me was of no importance in comparison with the need for the refreshing shade of a great tree. A storm was brewing, and finally broke; and after it came a superb sunset. A splendid cool and purple night followed; the dawn approached, and the sun arose in a blaze of glory. This in brief was the distinct story of a poet's long day; no words can describe it, music only could voice the com poser's vision. Seeking out Sauer after the concert, I was delighted to learn that, though his concerto had not been programed in any such way, these were actually the thoughts and experiences which he had in mind while writing this noble 157 158 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS piece, which is far too little known and should be sought out by pianists and added to their repertories. The singer of songs has the advantage of the words, which have been the source of inspiration for the music. But an instrumental writer appeals directly through music alone to the emotions of his audience. In most cases the audience enjoys what is written without comprehend ing what the composer has intended. The voices of his instruments are the only ones at his command, and in a symphony words are out of place. The world must gather from songs without words such comfort as it may. I have always felt that for songs of a certain character some accompaniment should be devised midway between that of the piano and that of a full orchestra. A num ber of pieces have been written for me in the endeavor to illustrate more richly than is possible with the sound of the piano the meaning of the poet's word. A beau tiful piece was composed for me by Ernest Walker of Ox ford to William Morris's poem u From the Upland to the Sea " in which the voice has the advantage of declaim ing the words and takes an equal place with the pianoforte and the voices of a string quartette. Walford Davies was kind enough to set Browning's " Prospice " to music for me, in which the voice is heard with a quintette of piano and strings. As an ample suggestion of orchestral music and much less expensive, I suggest to present-day composers that they consider this means for expressing themselves, as any new mode for making known one's artistic thoughts should be of value. At this time of my career I became particularly inter ested in the ballads of Loewe, the clerical contemporary of Schubert, who left the church to devote himself to the composition of songs. I commend his splendid ballads PHANTOMS OF HARMONY 159 to all singers, for they are among the best and most com prehensible of music stories, so to speak, that exist in all song literature. What can be finer than the Scotch ballads of " Archibald Douglas," and the gruesome " Ed ward," or the fantastic fairy tale of " Tom the Rhymer " ? Loewe's setting of " The Erl King," which Schubert had done before him, is by many considered equally fine, and nothing in the whole range of comedy can excel his de lightful " Wedding Song." There is no mystery about these ballads, and yet they are exemplifications of the highest form of their art. Flowers of music are indeed as beautiful and as amazing in their variety as natural blossoms. Besides giving many recitals and appearing in works which I have already mentioned, I sang in Sullivan's ora torio " The Martyr of Antioch " and his cantata " The Golden Legend"; in Hofmann's " Melusine"; in Men delssohn's " Walpurgis Night," and in Rossini's " Moses in Egypt." I had also the opportunity in the spring of 1895 of taking part at Crystal Palace under the conduc- torship of Hubert Parry in his remarkable oratorio * Job," which should be more frequently heard in Amer ica. Notwithstanding the somberness of the subject, it is a composition of great musical value and affords, to the barytone part in particular, one of the finest modern pieces of musical declamation. The title role was originally written for Plunkett Greene, who created the part and rendered it many times with superb dramatic feeling. Tinel's " St. Francis " was performed by me soon after this under the conductorship of Halle, with Prout's " Hereward," and Goring Thomas's posthumous work, u The Swan and the Skylark," while Berlioz's " Te Deum " and Verdi's " Requiem " followed in quick sue- 160 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS cession. Gounod's " Redemption " and Mendelssohn's " Elijah " I also sang before the opera season of 1895. " Elijah " is almost sufficiently dramatic to be included in the operatic repertory. The experiment was tried in England of putting that oratorio on the stage, and Erick- son Bushnell, the well-known American singer, a man of considerable private means, was also smitten with the idea and attempted to give " Elijah " in operatic form. Many years afterward, when I myself had frequently sung " Elijah " in New York, I was seriously urged to render it on the stage in a series of performances. I deliberated upon this, realizing the extreme difficulty of mounting a masterpiece of oratorio so that even to en thusiasts it would be in the least acceptable as an opera. The spirit of the work, to be retained at all, would have to be communicated to the actors and singers by an ar tistic director, to whom literature, religion, and poetry were of paramount importance and of equal value. No mere stage manager could do anything with " Elijah " as an opera. The only person whom I have heard speak with real poetic and lofty religious insight into the pos sibilities of such a production is that admirable Welsh en thusiast, the choral director Tali Esen Morgan. But such are the difficulties that would attend a production of this kind, that it is better to live in the hope and ex pectation of the future possibility of some such artistic wonder, rather than to have in the retrospect blasted hopes. Mendelssohn in writing the " Elijah " had a veritable inspiration, and had he intended that work to be produced other than as it was originally produced as an oratorio at the Birmingham Festival in 1846, he would have elaborated it accordingly; as it stands so it should be performed, and then every spiritual member of the PHANTOMS OF HARMONY 161 audience can visualize to his heart's content and come away satisfied. I remember once hearing William Stoll, Jr., a Phil adelphia conductor of orchestra and an excellent violinist, declare that he had the gift of auralizing music; he knew the symphonies so well, he assured me, that if he desired to hear one of them as he was about to go to sleep, all he had to do was to start it in his mind and he would hear a perfect performance, as if played by master instrumen talists, from the first note to the closing bar. This reminds me of what I have read of Goethe, who, if he wished to see again a statue or a picture from some gallery in Europe, would sit quietly facing a dark corner in his study, concentrate his thoughts upon the Venus de Milo or some other work of art, when it would im mediately seem to form itself and to stand out, so that it appeared to his mind's eye as if he were looking at the actuality. A Philadelphian named Waters has told me that he once had a distinct vision upon waking in the morning. As he lay looking into the room from his bed he saw a pair of hands playing upon a curved keyboard, unlike that of any piano or organ of which he knew. Years afterward such keyboards and organ appliances came into existence and are now used. The strangest part of my friend's narrative was that, at the time he had this prophetic vision of the new keyboard, he also heard from the in strument music of the most extraordinary kind, quite un like anything he had ever listened to. The subject is one of such interest that I may be par doned if I quote here a letter written in 1874 by the late Frances Ridley Havergal, the English poetess and writer of hymns, to her mother, in which she says : 1 62 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS " In the train I had one of those curious musical visions, which only very rarely visit me. I hear strange and very beautiful chords, generally full, slow, and grand, succeed ing each other in most interesting sequences. I do not in vent them, I could not they pass before my mind and I only listen. Now and then my will seems aroused when I see ahead how some fine resolution might follow, and I seem to will that certain chords should come, and then they do come; but then my will seems suspended again, and they go on quite independently. "It is so interesting: the chords seem to fold over each other and die away down into music of infinite soft ness, and then they unfold and open out, as if great cur tains were being withdrawn one after another widening the view, till, with a gathering power and fullness, it seems as if the very skies were being opened out before one, and a sheet or great blaze and glory of music, such as my outward ears never heard, gradually swells out in per fectly sublime splendor. " This time there was an added feature : I seemed to hear depths and heights of sound beyond the scale which human ears can receive, keen, far-up octaves, like vividly twinkling starlight of music, and mighty, slow vibrations of gigantic strings going down into grand thunders of depths, octaves below anything otherwise appreciable as musical notes. ' Then, all at once, it seemed as if my soul had got a new sense, and I could see this inner music as well as hear it; and then it was like gazing down into marvelous abysses of sound, and up into dazzling regions of what, to the eye, would have been light and color, but to the new sense was sound. It lasted perhaps half an hour." One is compelled either to accept the statements of PHANTOMS OF HARMONY 163 Mr. Stoll, Mr. Waters, and Miss Havergal, or to brand them as insane, or mendacious, or both; yet, if men do not hear and see these visions, whence come the inspi rations that lead to the productions of great works of art? We who perform what has been written and those who listen to our performances are the living witnesses of the fact that such inspiration has been vouchsafed to mankind. In no other way than through his extemporization and his written work could Beethoven have given proof to the world that he was the chosen instrument to com municate a Heaven-sent message. Truly, the poet is born and not made, and just as truly will he speak to the world in the language of the Infinite, regardless of whether the world at the time understands it or not. Several appearances at the Monday " Pops " with Joachim, Sauer, Berwick and others in fine chamber music followed " Elijah," but I took the greatest pleasure that season in the Bach Festival, in all three performances of which I had the distinction of being engaged, singing in the " Passion Music," and in the cantatas " Wachet Auf " and " O Ewigkeit," Joachim playing the violin obbligato, all being under the leadership of Villiers Stan ford, who had brought the chorus to a high pitch of per fection. It was during the previous season of the Bach Choir that John Runciman, who had taken Bernard Shaw's place on the Saturday Review, impertinently said of the chorus that " the altos were evidently selected from among those ladies who could no longer sing soprano." This season any such defect was remedied, and I look back upon the performances with the greatest interest and artistic pleasure. I had advanced so far in my profession that I was that 1 64 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS year, 1895, first engaged to sing at the concerts of the time-honored Philharmonic Society, when I revived what was almost a novelty to London, so seldom was it per formed, the fine scene for Lysiart from Weber's " Eu- ryanthe," under the conductorship of Mackenzie. By way of filling in the time, I gave the second of my own concerts that year at St. James's Hall, consisting of music by Brahms, in which I was aided by Fanny Davies at the piano, Signor Arbos, the Spanish violinist, Mrs. Henschel, Miss Agnes Janson, and William Shakespeare, in the quartettes of the master's Opus No. 112, which includes the delightful and seldom heard " Love Songs." One of the noted figures in the musical life of London at that time was Franz Korbay, whose Hungarian gypsy tunes were being sung by every one able to cope with them. Korbay was as well known in New York as in the British metropolis. One of the most remarkable exhibitions of Hungarian enthusiasm I have ever seen was given at a fashionable soiree in London, where there was dancing toward the end of the evening. Korbay caught the eye of the conductor of the orchestra, which was entirely composed of his own countrymen. The conductor seemed to read the thought of his compatriot; signaling to his men, they at once struck into one of the character istic dances of their people. Madame Korbay broke off the conversation she was having in another part of the room, turned, and made her way immediately to her husband near the orchestra. As if realizing that some thing remarkable was about to happen, every one fell silent and cleared a space in which Mr. and Mrs. Kor bay, though not on speaking terms and about to be di vorced, entered with the utmost spirit into one of the gypsy dances, which they carried through in the most PHANTOMS OF HARMONY 165 amorous fashion. The result was that court proceedings were almost stopped and courtship resumed, for the spir ited couple were on the point of making up for good and all. The effect produced on that smart London draw ing-room was indescribable, but it set things going. The Irish-American singer Dennis O'Sullivan was one of a house party in an ancient English country mansion, where I, too, was a guest. A stately dinner was being given at which were present a duchess, a famous dowager, a celebrated general, a noted parliamentarian, and other persons of distinction. The conversation lagging, O'Sullivan pulled from his hip pocket his inseparable com panion, a tin penny whistle, in the manipulation of which he was an adept, and played, to the amazement of the guests and the chagrin of his amiable hostess. Yet she thanked him afterward, for from that moment her din ner party was a success, where previously failure had stared her in the face. He, too, had set things going. The operatic activities of 1895 included several per formances of Auber's " Fra Diavolo," which was given at the particular request of that operatic enthusiast, the Prince of Wales. Unless duties kept him from Covent Garden, he occupied his seat in the corner of the club box, where he was joined by his intimates. He some times came upon the stage through the narrow private passage made in the thickness of the wall of that old theatre many years before, to congratulate the artists, many of whom he knew. In " Fra Diavolo " I took the part of Lord Allcash, and with Madame Amadi, an Englishwoman, as Lady Allcash, we performed our parts in English when we spoke together, and in assumed broken Italian when we were speaking or singing with the others. De Lucia 166 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS was admirable in the title role and Zerlina fascinatingly performed by the beautiful American soprano Marie Engle, while my old associates of " Falstaff " days, Pini Corsi and Arimondi, were irresistibly funny as the two brigands. In this opera I altered the style of dress that had up to that time prevailed upon the stage, and instead of furnishing the English lord with a pair of " Piccadilly weepers " and an exaggerated checked suit, a la Lord Dundreary, I made my character a veritable John Bull, for that worthy as he is known to the world to-day came into being about 1830, at the time " Fra Diavolo " was written. I went back to the top boots, the blue swallow- tailed coat with gold buttons, the frilled shirt front and choker collar, and the mutton-chop whiskers, and en joyed masquerading in the part to my heart's content. Another novelty of the season of 1895 was Frederic Cowen's grand opera " Harold," a story of the time of William the Conqueror, which character I assumed, with Madame Albani and the Russian tenor Philip Brozel; the principals and chorus in this sumptuous production all using the English language in which the opera was origi nally written. Nobody seemed to think of it as an inno vation, for every one could understand the words as we sang them, which was a rarity in the classic precincts of Covent Garden. I had that season the interesting experience of singing both with Calve and Madame Gemma Bellincioni in " Cavalleria Rusticana," and in noticing the difference in their handling of the role of Santuzza and in comparing them with the great Italian actress Eleonora Duse, who had frequently performed the same part on the London stage. Duse was all intelligence, Calve was all fire, and PHANTOMS OF HARMONY 167 Bellincioni was all superbly controlled emotion. I have rarely been more affected by any one with whom I have acted than by Bellincioni, who apparently did not think of herself as a singer, indeed her voice was not of the best quality and at the time it was in its decline ; yet she possessed that indefinable personality and magnetism which excited the deepest emotion in the minds of her auditors. I always had been able to arrange with my managers that I should be allowed to accept other work between my operatic performances; and this season, under Richter, I sang Wotan's Farewell from " The Valkyrie "; under Mottl, Hans Sachs's monologue and duet from the third act of " The Mastersingers " and the Lament of Am- fortas from the first act of " Parsifal " ; also, with the same conductor in the second act of " The Flying Dutch man " as Daland, and as Hagen in the third act of " Die Gotterdammerung." I also sang in the third act of u Parsifal " with Van Dyck, who was then in the height of his fame because of his wonderful impersonation of the title role at Bayreuth, and under Siegfried Wagner as Alberich in the first scene from his father's " Rheingold," a part I was to do later upon the stage on many occasions. The willing horse was being driven pretty hard, but he was in double harness with Song and did not mind it. He enjoyed all that came his way and entered then, as ever since, into the spirit of everything he has undertaken, for the reason that he has undertaken nothing that he did not enjoy. CHAPTER XX FROM GRAVE TO GAY Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents. Shakespeare. DURING the autumn and winter of 1895 I gave a number of concerts of old English music with Arnold Dolmetsch, accompanied by the old-fashioned instru ments, the harpsichord, the lute, and the viola da gamba. Mr. Dolmetsch was a distinguished authority on the sub ject of old musical instruments and there was scarcely a great old house in England that did not yield up to him its clavichords, spinets, and virginals, which were restored under his direction; their intimate and refined sounds afforded a distinct sense of relief after the stress of so much modern music. Personally, it gave me the greatest pleasure to hear and take part in the quaint music of Jenkins, Laniere, Purcell, and William and Henry Lawes. It happened that once while Dolmetsch was accom panying me on the harpsichord, as I sang Henry Purcell's remarkable " Let the Dreadful Engines," I observed a cat quietly walking across the back of the hall. He glanced up the middle aisle and caught sight of me, in whom he doubtless recognized a sympathetic friend, for I am fond of animals. A dog has come upon the stage to me, two rats have played at my feet for a considerable time in the glare of the footlights; and at a concert a bat kept flying about my head much to my discomfiture, for to that sort of creature I am not partial. But at 168 FROM GRAVE TO GAY 169 this concert the cat walked up the aisle, leaped upon the stage, arched his back, rubbed his fur against my leg, elevated his tail, and purred with great satisfaction as he made a series of figures of eight between my feet. Dolmetsch, seated with his back to me, saw nothing of what was going on. I had to continue with my song, but when a young girl burst into a giggle of merriment, the whole audience went into shrieks of delight. Presently the distinguished Belgian harpsichordist, turning to see the cause of the disturbance and catching sight of the cat, hastily snatched from the piano desk the whole volume of music and hurled it at the beast, which with a savage yowl sprang into the air, almost into my face, and dashed away. The laughter of the audience continued so long and loud that we performers were obliged to leave the stage, not to return for many minutes, when some semblance of order had been restored. This incident happened near the end of the concert and pro vided an anticlimax as unexpected as it would have been effective if it had happened in the proper place. That season I also had the great and interesting pleas ure of making my appearance by Royal command at the State Concerts in Buckingham Palace, an honor afforded me several times later on. Upon this first occasion the late Adelina Patti was the principal singer, and though she was past her prime she was idolized by the British public and acclaimed by the Prince of Wales, and by as distinguished a noble and diplomatic assemblage as any country could boast of. Mme. Patti, while not being a great actress, was al ways adequate in the histrionic side of her parts, though, after the fashion of her day, she invariably came to the footlights to sing her great arias regardless of the busi- i;o A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS ness of the stage ; its occupants might do as they pleased as long as she had the undivided attention of the audience. She was indeed a song bird, par excellence, and never allowed anything to upset either her equanimity or her comfort. I shall never forget her closing scene in u A'ida," where she and the tenor are supposed to be immured in a tomb of stone. At the close of the duet Patti, who had instructed the stage manager to make her comfortable, would carefully adjust a sofa cushion which had been placed conveniently at hand, would kick with one high-heeled Parisian slipper a train around behind her and assisted by the tenor would compose herself in grace ful position and die. The last time I ever saw Mme. Patti upon the stage was at Covent Garden Theatre, at a gala performance at the time of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee, when the attention of the audience was attracted even more to the splendor of her dress than to the brilliancy of her voice. Upon her corsage there blazed a solid front of diamonds, and I was told that every gem in her possession had been carefully sewed upon the bodice of her dress, ropes of pearls hung from her neck, her hands were covered with jewels, and a diamond tiara sat upon her graceful head. So valuable was the world-renowned prima donna that, besides her husband, she was guarded by several de tectives, one of whom was with her in the carriage upon her way to the opera house, while another sat upon the box. One of these remained outside the door of her dressing room throughout the evening, while the other, with a companion, escorted her to the stage, remaining at her entrance and exit, guarding her as she returned to her dressing room and later to her hotel. The manner of one's bidding to participate in any FROM GRAVE TO GAY 171 royal musical function began with a polite note from Sir Walter Parratt, who had the title of Master of the Queen's Musick, written from his house in the thickness of the wall of Windsor Castle, signifying the pleasure of her Majesty Queen Victoria that one should take part in the State Concert held at Buckingham Palace on such and such an evening in conjunction with such and such artists. The Queen herself had never listened to any music in public after the death of her husband, the Prince Consort, many years before. At these State Concerts, though no fee was offered, each artist, even Patti, who received a thousand guineas a night under ordinary circumstances, was given by the bearer of the Queen's purse an hono rarium of ten guineas by way of covering the incidental expenses to which an artist might be put. Any appear ance before the Queen herself was recompensed by ex quisite courtesy and a personal gift from her Majesty, several of which I have the honor to have received. As I have indicated, we were singing in four languages upon the stage at Covent Garden, though the institution was still officially known as The Royal Italian Opera, but notwithstanding this Hans Richter suggested that he would like me to assist him in performances in English of Wagner's " Niebelungen Ring," for, as he told me, no one was more keenly alive than the master himself to the value, to the audience, of the meaning of his text; and he wished that, in whatever country sung, it should be rendered in the language " understanded of the people." At last English was being used upon many occasions at Covent Garden. The tenor, E. C. Hedmondt, who had for so long been the leading spirit of the Carl Rosa Company, produced on October 19, 1895, on the fiftieth 172 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS anniversary of its first production, Wagner's " Tann hauser " in English on that classic stage. Hedmondt himself appeared as Tannhauser, I as Wolfram, Miss Margaret Maclntyre as Elizabeth, Madame Recoschewitz as Venus, with Mr. Bevan as the Landgrave. The con ductor was Mr. Feld. It was while Tannhauser was being given during that short season that an accident happened which amused us as much as it annoyed the management. The opening scene of the opera takes place in the Venusberg, where Tannhauser is made to witness several beautiful episodes from the classic myths through the wiles of the goddess. During this powerful arc lights were used, one of which was mounted for the moment upon a stepladder twenty feet high. In the sudden change to the valley of the Wartburg, Venus and the couch upon which she lies were successfully removed; the dancing nymphs and fauns dis appeared from the stage, and the scenery as by magic arose, descended, or was drawn to either side. But the nineteenth century stepladder was left peacefully stand ing in the middle of the stage toward the back, so situated that any one who climbed it would find himself at the door of the ancient castle upon the hill. When Tannhauser, in the person of Mr. Hedmondt, turned to greet the Land grave and his friends, he found this unsightly object, the harmless but necessary stepladder, just where he did not need it as an approach to the castle where dwelt the saintly Elizabeth. It was during this season that I not only made my first appearance as " The Flying Dutchman " but as Wotan in " The Valkyrie." The autumn of 1895 introduced me to festival work in England, where functions of this kind are really carried FROM GRAVE TO GAY 173 on in festal state. My first experience was at the ancient town of Gloucester, in the superb Gothic cathedral under the auspices of the most distinguished citizens of the town and of the neighborhood, and under the patronage of the Queen and Prince and Princess of Wales. The cathedral choir sang, greatly augmented by the voices of musical amateurs of the city, and assisted by the choirs and choral bodies of the neighboring towns of Worces ter and Hereford, with the sanction and under the eye of the bishops and clergy of these ancient dioceses. Splendid music was performed under the most impres sive circumstances I had ever experienced. Strains of melody, miracles of harmony, rose and mingled with the frozen music of the Gothic nave of the ancient sanc tuary, past the old Saxon pillars into delicate masonry that was itself the melody for the mounting harmonies below. Outside the city was en fete, flags and banners everywhere, and a gorgeous old-world civic pageant to mark the importance of the celebration. Just so the elder burghers of Nuremburg made St. John's Day glorious as shown in the mimic representations of " The Mastersingers." In the cathedral no applause is ever permitted, and the impressiveness of the music is thereby greatly enhanced. An American contralto, in telling me her experience at one of these cathedral festivals, said she had not been in formed of this unwritten rule and had not observed that there had been no applause prior to her own solo. When she sat down after its rendering, in perfect silence, having naturally expected from many previous experiences else where evidences of approval, she was so taken a-back that she was scarcely able to finish the performance at all. She thought that she had made a lamentable failure, and 174 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS that she would never be heard again in England, when as a matter of fact she had made such a success that the committee warmly congratulated her at the conclusion of the performance. The surroundings of such an occasion as an English festival in a mediaeval cathedral are so impressive beyond any words of mine to express that one scarcely wishes afterward to hear music of that character anywhere else. This was the first of a number of such engagements for me, and I am thankful indeed to have had such notable privileges. The day before the Gloucester festival opened, being in the cathedral alone after a rehearsal, I observed some scaffolding in the neighborhood of the organ and judged that repairs were being made. An ancient verger clad in his antique cap and gown, seeing me looking at the board ing, volunteered the statement, " They've been doin' summat with the horgan, sir; they've took out the old mattics and 'ave put the new mattics in." It was only two weeks later that I sang for the first time at the festival at Leeds, where the chorus con sisted of about 350 voices carefully chose-n, not only from the Leeds Choral Society, but from the choral bodies of Bradford, Huddersfield, Halifax, Dewsbury, and Batley, in all of which towns the work to be per formed has previously been carefully prepared. The re sult, as may be imagined, was a glory of vocal sound. The conductor was Sir Arthur Sullivan. At the desk his demeanor was quite different from that of any other leader under whom it has been my good fortune to sing. Sullivan had thick dark hair, a swarthy skin, and wore glasses. He invariably sat in the usual high chair and seemed to keep his eyes always on the score in front of FROM GRAVE TO GAY 175 him. His beat was restrained and rather cramped, his baton moving across the top or up and down the sides of the score; yet nothing in the world escaped the at tention of this quiet, reserved little man, the fingers of whose well-manicured right hand were invariably stained with cigarette smoke. To show young artists what I did, and what they may have to do, I may say that I made more than 130 appear ances in that twelvemonth, and that during this period my repertory of songs numbered about 120 pieces, in cluding duets and quartettes, over 30 selections sung with orchestra, about 15 oratorios given, 10 appearances in 5 operas in concert form, and 25 performances of 9 operas actually sung upon the operatic stage. I do not hesitate to say that I look back with con siderable pride upon this season, and I find, upon con sulting my bound volume of programs, in which every thing is numbered, 737 separate pieces in which at one time or another in my life I had appeared up to Decem ber 31, 1895. Let it be understood that the reason I mention these things is that students who intend taking up an artistic career may grasp the character and the difficulties of the work that lies before them. Those content to do a few things will not go far upon the way; but those who really have ambition and a will to study will find their work pleasurable, of course, yet anything but easy. The loftiest heights and rewards are attained by few in any walk of life, and, taking one consideration with another and balancing the matter sensibly, it will be found that the artistic career is much the same as any other profession. It may be said of it, as of worldly pleasure, that it is often of short duration and highly overrated ; so we must begin 176 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS betimes and work intelligently. We can not reasonably expect to accomplish anything worth while unless we work con amore. We must strive in music for the love of music, and with no expectation of great gain until we have reached the point, in practice and in authority, where we may justly demand a considerable fee for what we do. Even then a great deal has to be learned and performed for charity or by way of education, or in the necessary pleasure of helping others to achieve the suc cess which one hopes for oneself. Indeed, had it not been for the enthusiasm I felt for my work I should never have been asked to return to my native country, there to continue the artistic journey which had been so auspi ciously begun in the Old World. CHAPTER XXI SWIMMING WITH THE TIDE Progress is not an accident, but a necessity. It is a part of nature. Herbert Spencer. THE year 1896 opened as busily as its predecessor had closed, and I found myself immersed but comfortably swimming in the stream of art in which I had already begun to support myself without undue effort, though ef fort there must always be. But I was going with the tide and not against it, and that makes all the difference in the world. Another of my own London concerts took place in the early days of January, when the program was devoted entirely to compositions by British composers, mostly of that day. Fond as I was of the classics of other countries, I was keenly alive to the value of contemporaneous English music. Of music by Americans I knew but little as yet, excepting the comparatively few songs then making their way in London, which I never ceased to bring before the notice of the public, placing the works of my countrymen upon the same program with those of the acknowledged masters of other times and other nations; for in what way better than by contrast can one judge the merit of one's fellows? It was my pleasure to sing on more than one occasion with a body of amateurs called the Liverpool Orchestral Society, which had gradually been gathered together by 177 1 78 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS a very musicianly cotton factor of Liverpool, one of the most cultured and enthusiastic amateurs I have ever known. He had rare taste, was himself no mean per former upon the piano and violin, and ere long from small beginnings an excellent orchestra was formed from which the best members were graduated into the Liverpool Philharmonic, then under Richter. Many of these men are alive and of great value to the musical growth of Eng land, blessing the name of Alfred Rodewald, their bene factor, for his interest in them and their beloved art. It is easier to encourage the growth of orchestral music in this manner than it is to find millionaires willing to put their hands in their pockets after the manner of Colonel Higginson of Boston, to support what is nearly always a losing venture. As it is with music so it is with the theatre ; it should come into existence after its own fashion. For few indeed and far between are those who can say, " Let there be," and " there was." Neither of these arts has of its own accord a way of springing " full panoplied from the front of Jove." These along with the rest of nature must follow nature's course. The seed must be planted in good ground, it must be watered and nour ished, it must be helped to grow, and in all cases fruition must be waited for. Sir Henry Irving said in one of his addresses at Oxford University, " The stage, to succeed as a fine art, must succeed as a commercial undertaking." And neither music nor the drama can get along at all with out enthusiasm within and without. Many concerts followed up and down the country un der excellent circumstances and with the best artists, but at a concert in Southport I had my first experience of the disrespect shown to artists by persons of a certain stamp. During the afternoon I had been rehearsing a duet with SWIMMING WITH THE TIDE 179 Miss Clara Butt in her hotel apartment and after I left she went on practicing for that evening. Later in the reading room of the hotel I overheard two men speaking with a broad Lancashire dialect. " I say, Harry, did thou hear that row going on upstairs?" " Aye ! " re plied Harry; " I heard somebody a-singing." "Well," said the other, " she were in the room next to mine and I beat upon the door, and told her to shut up, for I wanted to take a nap." " Oh! " said Harry in amazement, " did thou know who that were? That were Clara Butt!" " Well! " said the other, " I don't care who it were, she'd no business to be shoutin' and 'ollerin' when I wanted to go to sleep." As I heard the man speaking I thought, " Alas! for the chivalry of my ancestral county! " Arthur Chappell, director of the Saturday and Mon day " Pops " at St. James's Hall, continued to honor me with engagements at his remarkable offerings of classical music, when it was my constant endeavor to keep the vo cal selections up to the mark set by Joachim, Lady Halle, and the others in their instrumental numbers. There had been much comment the season before upon the inferior character of many of the songs. I, therefore, with great interest to myself and, I believe, to my audiences, though against the wish of Mr. Chappell, who, strangely enough, did not care for good songs, invariably brought forward certain vocal gems such as are to be found in great num bers by whoever cares to delve even but a short way be neath the surface. Early in 1896, in a program other wise devoted to Beethoven's instrumental pieces, I re vived that master's song cycle, " To the Distant Be loved." Upon previous occasions I had indulged in simi lar revivals of almost unknown works by Schubert and others. But public opinion is hard to move in London, i8o A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS and where vocal music is concerned, a more obvious form of song than that which properly consorts with classical instrumental music is more readily appreciated, even by the highly cultured musical amateur. On the contrary, the prevailing taste for choral music is of the most ad vanced character and I had the opportunity of singing within a few days, though in different cities, not only Bach's " Passion Music according to St. Matthew," but also his rarely given " Passion according to St. John." With the early spring of 1896 there began at Drury Lane a preliminary season of grand opera in English under the baton of Luigi Mancinelli, and during this season I sang in " I Pagliacci," wearing, as before, even ing clothes while rendering the prologue, and repeated Wolfram and Wotan, adding to my repertory the part of Telramund in " Lohengrin." I also appeared for the second time at the London Philharmonic Society, when I gave with orchestra Wagner's seldom heard " Les deux Grenadiers " and Mozart's even less known but very fine bass aria u Per questa bella mano." That spring in London I gave two more concerts of my own before the grand opera season began, enlisting the assistance of Piatti, the fine 'cellist, Fanny Davies, the pianist, and Signorina Landi, the Italian alto, with Gabriel Faure, the French song writer. But what stands out more particularly in my mind in regard to that occasion is, that I was further assisted by an old friend and pre ceptor, the distinguished actor, Herman Vezin, whom I had requested to recite, to the music of Schumann, Heb- bel's ballad " Fair Hedwig " and " The Fugitives " by Shelley. I have always been interested in recitations to music, and though some of these pieces are undeniably better SWIMMING WITH THE TIDE 181 than others, the same can be said of every other style of composition, vocal or instrumental. Though I was my self not yet ready to adventure upon an experiment in which I subsequently had so wide an experience, I was desirous of seeing what a fine actor could do with such pieces. As a matter of fact, Mr. Vezin was not a musi cian and consequently failed to produce the full effect I had expected; but that did not in the least dash my enthu siasm for this form of art, nor deter me later from ex perimenting to my heart's content. No survey of London concerts however brief would be complete without a tribute to the superb musicianship of that great pianist and distinguished musician, Mr. Henry Bird, who has so often been a very present help to me in time of artistic trouble, and upon whom I always relied for his masterly handling of the piano at my own recitals. His ability was such that he became an insti tution, and much of my success is due to his cooperation. It is very interesting to me to glance over my collection of hundreds of programs at this time of my career, and to note how, in the short period of less than four years since my appearance as a mere tyro at Covent Garden, my artistic stature had grown. It may have been, and probably was, that I just happened to come in time to fill a niche that was temporarily vacant in English musical life; but sure it is that I neglected nothing that presented itself, and had my hands full in doing what came to me to the best of my ability. The season of grand opera that began in June at Co- vent Garden enlisted the usual number of vocal celebrities from all parts of Europe and America, and it fell to my lot to sing twenty-five times beginning with Humper- dinck's " Hansel and Gretel," in which Peter, the father. 182 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS was assigned to me, to my great delight, for any one with a sense of humor must revel in such a " fat " part. Then followed Lord Allcash in " Fra Diavolo " and our per formances of " The Mastersingers " attracted renewed attention. In the performances of " Lohengrin " that year at Covent Garden we began first to sing Wagner in German. Jean and Edouard de Reszke, both Poles, accustomed to Italian or French, Madame Albani, a French Canadian, as Elsa, and myself, an American, as Telramund, all singing in German; Fraulein Meisslinger, the only Ger man of the cast, sang Ortrud, and extremely well she did it. It was at the dress rehearsal for our first performance of " Lohengrin " that I suggested to Jean de Reszke that our contest should look more like a fight, and less of a foregone conclusion for the divinely endowed Knight of the Swan. He readily fell in with my wishes and from that time on there was given what was in my experi ence lacking in all previous performances a significant reason for the overthrow of the malevolent Telramund. This is a character which, by the way, I invariably associ ate with Macbeth, for he is as certainly under the domina tion of a strong and evil-minded woman as ever Macbeth was, and each is ready to commit any deed at the behest of the more powerful will. That season Jean de Reszke assumed for the first time the part, perhaps his greatest, of Tristan, with his brother Edouard as the King; and with Madame Albani as Isolde. I once more assumed, as I was to do many times thereafter, my beloved part of the faithful, dog-like Kurwenal. In the preparation of this opera I suggested again that SWIMMING WITH THE TIDE 183 some reasonable pretext should be afforded for Kur- wenal's death. The management of the fight at the castle gate was turned over to me, and I instructed two of the supernumeraries to work their way around behind me, and as I was engaged in defending my master, to stab me in the back with their spears. This was done and, as Quince says, I " died most gallant for love." In doing so I almost caused the death of one of my oppo nents in the chorus. Though the action was clearly un derstood, in the excitement of a rehearsal he unexpect edly lowered the shield upon which my heavy blow aimed at his head was to have fallen, and he felt the full power of my strong right arm as my weighty sword, no stage makeshift on this occasion, cut deep into his cheek bone. There was almost a riot among the chorus and supers, but it was soon realized and no one realized any more quickly than the injured man himself that he alone was to blame for the accident. I saw that his wound received careful attention and the distribution of a little pourbolre at the luncheon interval helped to calm the indignant multitude; but though the fight always went very well in subsequent performances, I managed to die thereafter without bringing any one else down with me. In the revival of " Les Huguenots " that season Madame Melba sang the part of Marguerite de Valois, and Madame Albani was truly superb as Valentina. She sang it as well as any one in Europe, and in such a part was more at home than as Isolde which she had but recently studied. Among the men there was a shifting of parts. My former rok 4 of de Nevers was sung by Ancona, while I assumed the part of San Bris, and Pol Plancon took the grateful part of Marcello. This great basso, though he had sung in London for 1 84 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS many seasons and continued to be a favorite both there and in America, never accomplished anything in the Eng lish language beyond the few words that sufficed to pro cure the necessities of life. Looking over my programs, it is amusing to recall the State Concert that year at Buckingham Palace, when Madame Eames, an American, sang in French; I sang in Italian; Madame Mantelli, an Italian, sang in French; Alvarez, a Spaniard, sang a German love song in French ; while at the request of the Prince of Wales, Plangon, Frenchman, sang " The Lost Chord " in English. This was written down for him so that he could sing the equivalent syllables, which meant less than nothing, from an amazing page of script that would have puzzled the most accomplished comparative philologist. The Prince, who had seen the words as transcribed, went into convulsions of laughter behind his program, while the whole Court wondered what was provoking such royal mirth. It was this: Si-ted ouan dei at dhi or-ganne Ai ouaz oui-ri an dil ah tiz Ahnd mai fin-gerz ouann-der daid-li O-vaire dhi no-izi kiz, etc., etc., CHAPTER XXII MY AIN COUNTRIE God sent His singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth. Longfellow. IN the autumn of 1896 with a light heart I gave my farewell London concert for that season at St. James's Hall and before long found myself on my way to my native land, filled with artistic hope and an enthusiasm which had never forsaken me. It was the tenth time that I had crossed the Atlantic Ocean, frequently in storms or disagreeable weather, but upon this occasion everything was bright, and the sea almost as calm as a millpond from shore to shore. As I stood in the prow of the vessel one day alone, trying to peer beyond the rounded edge of the world, my imagination outran the swiftly moving ship and I seemed to see the vast expanse of North America and to realize in some measure for the first time the responsibility before me. I was then the only American man singing upon the stage of either continent in grand opera. I felt that my position was unique and must be upheld as worthily as lay in my power. And I earnestly hoped that I might be enabled to maintain my standing with dignity, what ever I did, and to be the influence for good in American musical art that my mother would have wished had she been alive to greet me. I owe it, I am sure, to Jean de Reszke, who always took 185 1 86 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS an interest in my work and for whom I felt the warmest friendship, that Maurice Grau, who for some time had been directing the fortunes of the Covent Garden Opera after the death of Sir Augustus Harris, invited me to go to America to become a member of the Metropolitan Opera Company in New York, where all my confreres had for at least two years before been delighting the public. At last I had sufficiently made myself one of them, artistically speaking, to be considered able to hold my own on the operatic boards of fastidious New York. In making my contract with Mr. Grau, I naturally tried to do as well for myself as possible, for I may say that by this time my earning capacity had advanced to considerably more than the small sum I had received in my uncle's office at home. Grau was a close calculator, but an agreement once made he stuck to it whatever it was, but would do no more than he had undertaken to do in writing. It was said of him that though he would give a man a fine cigar, he would not offer him a match to light it with unless such generosity had been nominated in the bond. But, as I was holding out for an emolument greater than that which he had suggested, I gained my point in a way that I had not looked for. Though Grau was willing that I should take as many concerts as I could fit in between the operas which he guaranteed me, he was inclined to be rather close as to my salary until I urged the extent and variety of my repertory and my willingness to appear frequently, and often unexpectedly. He suddenly turned to me and said: " Very well, let it be as you say. I will give you what you ask, for in all my experience as a manager I have never had an artist so reliable as yourself. I wish you every good fortune in your native country and I predict success for you. MY AIN COUNTRIE 187 You will open at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, November 18, as Beckmesser in ' Die Meister- singer,' with the de Reszkes, Mr. Plangon, and Ma dame Eames." The New York season of the autumn of 1896 opened in a blaze of glory, with Mesdames Calve, Melba, Eames, and Litvinne, all in the fullness of their powers, head ing the sopranos, while Madame Mantelli and Rosa Olitzka led the altos. Jean de Reszke, in the height of his fame, set a noble pace for the other tenors, Salignac and Cremonini. Ancona, Campanari, Lassalfe, and my self were among the barytones, while Edouard de Reszke, Plangon, and Castelmary formed a basic founda tion strong enough to uphold any artistic superstructure. This galaxy of stars performed that season a repertory of twenty-four operas as follows: " Romeo and Juliet," "Faust," ''Philemon and Baucis," "Carmen," " Le Cid," " Cavalleria Rusticana," " Les Huguenots," " L'Africaine," " Don Giovanni," " The Marriage of Figaro," " La Traviata," " II Trovatore," " Rigoletto," " ATda," " Lucia," " Hamlet," " Mefistofele," and " Werther," Wagner being represented by " Tann- hauser," "Lohengrin," "Siegfried," "Tristan und Isolde," and " Die Meistersinger." The German operas were conducted by Anton Seidl; Mancinelli and Bevignani accounted for the rest of the repertory. It is useless to institute comparisons between the casts of those times and casts of the present day; it is sufficient to say, however, that the aggregation of artists gathered together that season by Grau, which with some changes for the better remained with him for several years, was perhaps the most remarkable selection of singers that the world has ever heard. It is amusing, when turning over 1 88 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS my programs, to note that " The Mastersingers " was given with a cast comprising one Russian, two Germans, two Poles, three Americans, four Frenchmen, and five Italians. This German opera, conducted by an Italian, was sung in Italian before an English-speaking audience. It was not long, however, before " The Mastersingers " fell into line in German with the other Wagnerian operas we performed. It sometimes happens that with such a polyglot cast, in which every singer knows the music but has the words in his native tongue only, the audience will be treated to Italian, French, and German in alternation, from the lips of representatives of as many as six nation alities. Among the prima donnas of that time the beautiful Americans, Lillian Nordica and Emma Eames, reigned supreme. Madame Nordica was married to a Hun garian singer, who considered himself engaged to the prima donna before she had left for America the previ ous year. It is said he was kept aware of her movements in America by her maid, who before long informed him that attentions were being paid to her by another. He thereupon set sail for New York, and on his arrival made his way to Nordica's hotel. Upon being announced and received by the beautiful artist, he, so the story goes, drew a pistol from his pocket and threatened to shoot her then and there unless she married him immediately. Influenced both by awe and admiration of so doughty a lover, the fair Lillian went with him to a clergyman near by who married them, the clergyman's wife being the witness. She later averred that the soprano was in such a torrent of tears that she could not answer the ques tions put by the clergyman during the wedding ceremony; while the bridegroom, with flashing eyes and mustache MY AIN COUNTRIE 189 on end, commanded the minister, " Go on ! Prima donnas always behave this way when they are getting married." Although Lillian Nordica learned her roles with dif ficulty, she had the determination which carried her to such artistic heights that she will never be forgotten in musical annals. Her grit, reenforced by her beauty and her lovely voice, enabled her to do an amount of work which is truly astonishing. She was a worthy model for younger artists, any one of whom would do well to walk in her way. French and Italian held sway as formerly, and under Mr. Grau English was seldom used during his regime. He was not particularly musical, and did not believe that anything but light opera or oratorio, in which he was not interested, could be sung in English. He also confessed to me that, if he had his way, he would never have any advanced Wagnerian music at all in his repertory. " Still," as he said, " the public seem to like it I don't know why; but if they want it, it is my business to give it to them." I had made arrangements with a concert manager to provide for me as many engagements as possible outside of my operatic work, and soon after my initial perform ance in New York, inaugurated a series of concerts in America that probably has few equals in the history of the profession. If the work of a busy singer is hard, it certainly is agreeable, and the successful artist has noth ing whatever to complain of either in appreciation or in material gain, be the work ever so arduous. As a matter of record, however, it may be of interest to the student to know that I appeared during the season of 1896-97 in America, before returning to Europe, A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS eighty-three times; thirty-four of them in seven operas, two of the roles being new in my repertory. In concerts I sang forty-nine times in seventeen cities, introducing at several of these for the first time in America, not only Brahms's " Magelone," but the same composer's latest work, the " Four Serious Songs," which I had given in London the previous season almost im mediately after Brahms had issued them. It was doubtless through my association with Anton Seidl, as conductor at the Metropolitan opera, that I was engaged by the Philharmonic Society, which he also directed. Seidl was always friendly to me, seemed to take special interest in my work, and suggested that on the occasion of my first appearance at these concerts I should perform with Madame Clementine de Vere the duet from the second act of " The Flying Dutchman." At my second Philharmonic appearance, later in the sea son, I decided upon selecting two groups of Schubert's songs. Seidl later showed me his orchestral accompani ments to certain of the ballads of Loewe, and asked me to sing some of these at one of his Sunday night concerts at the Metropolitan Opera House. He was a great enthu siast, and I am proud to have come into as close touch with Richard Wagner himself as I did, through the ar tistic friendship of and much work with his two faithful disciples, Anton Seidl and Hans Richter. They handed on the brightly burning torch lit at the shrine of the great master whose works and methods they understood better than any one else even than Cosima Wagner herself, who never ceased to inject her own ideas into the repre sentation of her great husband's operas, which took place under her direction after his death, until Bayreuth became MY AIN COUNTRIE 191 nothing less than a hotbed of jealousy, dissension and musical politics. I have been informed by a well-known soprano that toward the end of her engagement at the Bavarian shrine, things became so disagreeable that she, like Lilli Leh- mann, Madame Materna, and various other shining lights before her, was constrained never to appear there again, as the honor was by no means commensurate with the mental and spiritual discomfort, not to speak of the artis tic belittlement to which well-known singers were sub jected. In the case referred to the artiste was obliged to take orders from Cosima's daughter's maid, who at tempted to instruct the experienced singer in the manner of wearing her garments and walking upon the stage, with the result that the sopra'no complained to the fountainhead, informing Madame Wagner in no uncer tain terms that, while she was proud to obey her, she could not delegate this power to her daughters, much less to the servants of her daughters. Singing under Seidl and Richter, no one was subjected to any supercilious treatment. These great men knew exactly what was to be done with the music, and every one associated with them knew that they knew, and ac cepted their readings and interpretations as authoritative beyond question. It was during the last days of 1896 that the brothers de Reszke made their first appearance as Siegfried and The Wanderer respectively. The occasion was made trebly interesting by the appearance of Madame Melba as Briinnhilde. It was also Madame Melba's first ap pearance in German opera, and I well remember wishing her luck when, having finished my part as Hunding in 192 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS the second act, I found her upon the stage with Jean de Reszke, who was assisting her to the rocky couch beneath the great tree, where presently the audience was to see her surrounded by the flames which Wotan called forth at the conclusion of " The Valkyrie," and in the sleep from which Siegfried was presently to awaken her. I took my place in a box to witness the remainder of the performance. Melba was extremely nervous, not only because she was singing in a language to which she was unaccustomed, but in a part which was entirely unsuited to her, and which, though she knew it perfectly, she was ill-advised to have assumed at all. In this act Melba, accustomed to the older repertory, was apparently forgetful of the Wagnerian tradition to remain well within the scene, and Jean de Reszke, in the heavy fur coat of Siegfried, was kept busy patrolling the forward part of the stage to keep the white-clad Melba from rushing into the footlights, over which she had so many times sung to delighted audiences. Unfortunately for the celebrated and gifted prima donna the task she had here set herself was too much for her vocal powers and she sang but little in the subsequent performances of the season. As the act progressed my mind was carried forcibly back to a scene that had greatly impresed me in boyhood. I had been to a fire at night in which an enormous barn and stable connected with a stock farm were completely destroyed. Many cattle which had been driven into adjacent fields were so attracted by the flames that a con siderable force of men was kept busy preventing the animals from rushing headlong to death. Near where I stood in the night a white calf in great excitement was MY AIN COUNTRIE 193 trying to make its way toward the fire, but the field be tween the young animal and the conflagration was in this instance patrolled by the mother cow, whose maternal instinct was superior to the call of the light. Illustrative of the vagaries of artists, I recall a Sunday night concert at the Metropolitan Opera House, when Calve was on the bill with Plangon, myself, and others. Opera singers are often not accustomed to concerts. Bare boards without scenery; musicians on the stage instead of in the orchestra pit; waiting through a disjointed col lection of instrumental and vocal numbers until one has to appear on the platform without that make-up which is such a disguise and inside of which one feels so much at home such things as these often tend to make the opera singer extremely nervous. Upon the occasion I refer to, Madame Mantelli was calm, as indeed altos usually are; the tenor Cremonini was moderately excited, but Plancon was weeping violently, mopping from his cheeks and beard the tears that continued to flow until the moment for him to walk upon the platform; when, hav ing given vent to his emotions in song, he quieted down for the rest of the evening. I myself was somewhat up set by these manifestations of the idiosyncrasies of vocal ists, especially when Madame Calve demanded that the orchestral accompaniment to her piece be transposed into a key that was uncomfortable to the players as well as for her voice. Later she had such a quarrel with Al varez, the tenor, that as they performed in " Carmen " together I was much relieved to find that Alvarez had not planted his dagger between her shoulder blades as he seemed to do, almost pinning her with his knife against the door of the bull ring. But the curtain went up at 194 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS the end of the performance upon Calve, smiling and beautiful as usual, while she and the tenor in all his glory took the rapturous curtain call. That spring I visited Chicago several times, not only with the opera but for concert engagements. It hap pened that at this time Henry Irving and Ellen Terry were acting in the windy city. I found myself staying in the same hotel and on the same floor with Miss Terry, whom I had known in London for a number of years. Hearing me singing, she sent word by her attendant to ask if I would not do her the pleasure of rehearsing in her sitting-room. She wished to hear the music of which she was so fond, but of which naturally enough she could get but little, as she was constantly working and unable to attend concerts. I was glad to do as the celebrated actress requested, and, though she remained much of the time in another room, she could hear everything that went on through the open door while I rendered several selections from my forthcoming concert. Presently Miss Terry entered the room and sat down quietly to listen. At the conclu sion of the songs, she said: " I like some of those things very much, but what were those wonderful songs you sang half an hour ago? I could catch words from the Bible, and they sounded like the grandest sermon I ever heard in my life." I took from the piano the " Four Serious Songs " by Brahms, which she looked at and handled with a reverence that shed new light upon the character of this brilliant creature, whom I had already seen and admired in most of her repertory. I had fre quently met her in private, but here she was at eleven o'clock in the morning, fresh and alert as always, clad in a comfortable dressing gown and slippers, looking like MY AIN COUNTRIE 195 the mother of all the characters in which I had seen her upon the stage. Earnestly she requested me to preach her that sermon over again. " Now," she said, " I am your congrega tion and will sit under you to listen to the truth, for I am persuaded that music is a part of the voice of the Almighty." Though Brahms was not essentially dramatic in his style and never composed an opera, yet he gave out in this swan song something of the poignancy of the emo tions which he felt, but which he so often elected to con ceal from the world. Never have I sung more feelingly to the largest of audiences than I did that morning to my audience of one. Carried away by the situation as I stood behind the back of a chair, I found myself actually using such gestures as an earnest clergyman might use, as he expounded to his congregation the Word of the Lord. As I finished, the tears that coursed down Miss Terry's cheeks were the most graceful tribute I had ever received, and yet the tribute was not to me, for I was merely the mouthpiece, the interpreter, of noble music wedded to words of power. CHAPTER XXIII FORTUNE GOOD AND ILL Take all that comes, the hard goes with the soft; All are from God and His decrees fulfill From the Arabic. IN the classic auditorium of the Academy of Music in Philadelphia, assisted by my friends, the gentlemen of my beloved Orpheus Club, I gave early in the season one of my own concerts. No more loyal body of men ever supported an artist in his native city, after what they were pleased to call my triumph abroad, than this body of en thusiasts, who made me feel that the old saying, " A prophet is not without honor, save in his own country," was completely disproved. No one could have been more highly complimented than I was when they made me an honorary member of their society, and I almost came to believe that the world was assuming a fresh outlook on things, by which musical people would forego all symp toms of jealousy. Perhaps the reason is to be found in the attitude of such societies of amateurs as the Orpheus Club, which in their intimate associations are on the plane of the dilet tante, even though some of their members may be pro fessionals, and do not allow any spirit of envy to enter the realm of art. The spirit of the amateur, the true lover of music, reigns supreme. I can truthfully say that when I myself was an amateur, I looked forward through each recurrent week to the Monday night re hearsal of this club with a delightful anticipation of the 196 FORTUNE GOOD AND ILL 197 work which nothing else has ever given me. True com radeship is incited by song, a oneness of heart and of purpose seldom aroused by other occupations. I hope such bodies may spring up everywhere throughout the United States, each to become a nucleus around which a more extended musical life may grow. Orchestras may well be founded in the same way from small beginnings, and thus may native talent, both vocal and instrumental, be cultivated to the great advantage of every community. Early in January, 1897, I gave at the Carnegie Lyceum, the cozy little auditorium in the basement of Carnegie Hall, the first of my New York concerts, assisted by Miss Marguerite Hall and Mr. Gregorowitsch, the Rus sian violinist. Upon that occasion, besides examples from the older classics, and the " Four Serious Songs " by Brahms, I gave a group consisting of six songs by living American composers : Dudley Buck, Henry Had- ley, Reginald de Koven, Arthur Foote, H. H. Wetzler, and George W. Chadwick. Ever since that time I have endeavored to keep before the American public the work of its own gifted men. I was and am still well aware of the all but universal tendency to consider the work of any foreigner superior to that of our own people, but I have never held with that view, insisting that much foreign music is quite as bad as any that could possibly be produced in America. Though naturally enough the best is always sought for, yet many are the mistakes which have been made in the concert room and at the Metropolitan Opera House in bringing forward compo-* sitions by foreigners, while well considered and carefully prepared material by our own native musicians has been deliberately put aside, or when performed has met with scant courtesy at the hands of press and public. 198 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS This attitude on the part of Americans is one that has puzzled me considerably. In the intimate social circles which supported imported art there were few with the courage to proclaim America and Americanism as Walt Whitman proclaimed it two generations ago, and the grand substratum of Europeanism remained. Most American men of leisure wanted to take their holiday in Europe, and American women knew that when they died they would go to Paris. I gave that season three concerts of my own in New York, still assisted as in London by other artists. The brilliantly gifted Madame Corinne Moore Lawson, Miss Lillian Blauvelt, and the Kneisel Quartette added a dis tinction to my programs which otherwise might have been lacking. I was rapidly finding sufficient artistic poise for recitals alone, and before long I was able to dispense with any assistance but that of my own accompanist. At first, not finding any one able to place himself en tirely at my disposal, I was constrained to accept the services of pianists who, however talented, were unac customed to me and my ways. Let me say here, for the benefit of my successors, that it is obvious that the artist should not be obliged to fatigue himself with rehearsals just before the concert of which he is to bear the brunt. It will be found in the long run far better to undertake the expense of a permanent accompanist than to run the risk of a bad one or the nervousness of singing for the first time with any one, no matter how good. Once, when I had been careful to send my music ahead to the pianist who had been selected for me and whose ability was vouched for by one whom I considered com petent to judge, I found the clever young instrumentalist in such a state of alarm at the prospect of playing for FORTUNE GOOD AND ILL 199 me that, for all his ability, my concert was nearly ruined; certain pieces he was unable to cope with at all, and in their places others had to be substituted at the last moment. Sometime before starting from London for New York, I had been asked by a friend to hunt up a brilliant musician named Blank, whose address was not given me. Upon reaching New York I inquired for him without avail. Later in the season, after returning from an op eratic performance to the St. Botolph Club in Boston where I was staying, I sat at supper with two men who were quietly conversing as I read my letters. One of these was from my friend who, having learned Mr. Blank's address, sent it on to me. As I read the words, " Henry Blank can be found at such and such a place," I became aware that my two friends were speaking of Henry Blank. Hearing them I asked, " Whose name was that?" They replied, " Henry Blank, an excellent pianist. You should have him as your accompanist." I asked his address, one of them told it to me, and they were as surprised as I when I showed them my letter which I held in my hand. Whether this be a mere coinci dence or a stroke of fate I am unable to tell. The result was that Blank was saved from suicide, contemplated be cause of lack of work, by the telegram I sent him that night. In a few days he became my accompanist and re mained such for some time. The fact that he left me because his name appeared on the program was nothing against his artistic ability, but only proves my contention that artists should be treated differently from other peo ple. Blank, it seems, did not wish to be known as an accompanist; he considered himself a solo pianist, and he would have been a fine one had his peculiarities not inter- 200 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS fered. One of these peculiarities was to insist that his name should be omitted from any program in which he merely figured as an accompanist. Of this I was not aware and, of course, gave him credit upon the program at which he first appeared. I found him to be deeply of fended, and was requested in no uncertain terms to leave his name off in the future. It so happened that sometime later I was requested by the promoters of a concert in a city where I was to appear to permit the inclusion of certain piano pieces played by a local artist who had had considerable suc cess in Europe; this I was, of course, glad to do. Un luckily it happened that Blank was known by those in terested in this concert and they, finding his name omitted from the program which I had sent to the printer, in serted it without my knowledge. The result was that my eccentric friend was with difficulty persuaded to play for me at all that evening. Though he did so, he kept his word in the future and never played for me again, though I had some six weeks of concerts still to perform, which he had carefully prepared with me in advance. For the rest of my American season I had to get along with any one I could pick up, greatly to my disadvantage. From that time Blank went down, and though we re mained friends, yet he had difficulty in making a liveli hood, and I, with others of his acquaintance, was called upon from time to time to see him through. At last it seemed to us that he could go no further, and he finally disappeared from our ken. We all recognized his tal ents, but were unable to make them work. Some years afterward in London, Blank's card was handed in at my apartment, and what was my surprise to find, instead of the down-at-the-heels, shabby man FORTUNE GOOD AND ILL 201 whom I had last seen in New York, a beautifully dressed, clear-skinned, bright-eyed, healthy Englishman, none other than my old friend, who, as he took his leave after a pleasant conversation, told me that he had come to his senses and gone back to his home and family. Be fore leaving he casually remarked: " By the way, you were always very good to me, and saw me through some pretty hard times in my life. Let me see, I think the amount would add up to about so much, would it not? I never forget my friends "; and he proceeded to write a check for the amount of his indebtedness, which was at once honored. The talented Mr. Blank then disappeared out of my ken as suddenly as he had come into it. The artist's life, like the policeman's, is not always a happy one. During my first American season it was nec essary for me to go to a certain city to sing at a concert, where I was pursued almost on to the stage by an of ficer of the court bearing a legal warrant to collect out of my fee, if he could, certain moneys to satisfy a debt contracted some time before by the person who booked me for this concert. I have always thought it an outrage that the law should permit the public performances of an artist to be interfered with in this way, even though the money should be rightly due from the artist, who by the interference with his performance would naturally be rendered incapable of earning the wherewithal to satisfy his debt. The biblical narrative tells how the severe creditor threw his debtor into prison till he should pay to the uttermost farthing, but surely we have grown beyond this antiquated code! Fortunately, in my case nothing untoward happened. By calling upon all the resources of the actor, I man aged so to scare the officer of the law with my pretended 202 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS rage that he begged for mercy and tried to find the door to get away from the madman, who he thought would do him bodily injury. Those who saw the scene begged me to calm myself, reminding me that I had to sing in a few minutes, and were surprised to see me come smiling out of my anger the instant the door was closed behind the minion of the law. Upon another occasion, at one of my concerts in a city that shall remain nameless, great was the apparent con cern of the local manager who stated that, though the concert had been successful, for it was given before a large audience, he was unable to pay me for my services because of an action taken by his creditors. But he reengaged me to come again with another artist, when, as he said, he would be able to give me a check for both appearances. On the second occasion, however, the manager of the assisting artist, learning what had previously taken place, put a representative into the box office on behalf of his client, with the result that when he had his money and other creditors obtained theirs, I came for the second time empty away. Such experiences have been infrequent, I am glad to say; but a number of years afterward, upon visiting the same city to appear in an orchestral concert, I was waited upon by the president of the society, its conductor, and its treasurer, to whom as we sat in my room I narrated what had happened at my earlier appearances. We all had a good laugh over it and I was assured that nothing of the kind could happen now, as a splendid audience would be in attendance. On proceeding to the rehearsal I found to my disappointment that the orchestra was a scratch affair, 'the occasion not being one of any impor tance, so that the ultimate performance was poor and re- FORTUNE GOOD AND ILL 203 suited in my getting a check for one-sixth of the amount of my contract, the balance of which I have never been able to collect to this day. Needless to say I shook the dust of that town from my shoes for ever. Let it be clearly understood that such occurrences as those I have related are very rare; I do not wish to besmirch the reputation of the music givers of America, to whom I am so greatly indebted. CHAPTER XXIV CYCLES OF SONG For doth not Song to the whole world belong? Is it not given wherever tears may fall; Wherever hearts can melt, or blushes glow, Or mirth or sadness mingle as they flow A heritage for all? Author unknown. ALTOGETHER I had a busy, valuable, and interesting season in my native country and returned to London rather pleased with myself over having made such a good beginning. There was a certain amount of kudos gained from the fact that I, an American, had been asked to go with the foreigners to the United States. Few of my countrywomen had returned from Europe to sing upon the operatic stage, and no American men, so that I may be said to have been the first. Soon after reaching England I gave another of my own recitals, bringing forward what was, in its entirety, as new to the London public as it was to New York, " The Beautiful Magelone," by Brahms, and telling in a few words between the numbers the story by Ludwig Tieck, a quaint little mediaeval tale upon which lovely lyrics are strung as pearls upon a thread. All the great song cycles are founded upon poems of romance. Beethoven's early attempt, " To the Distant Beloved," is one of them; a breathing out of emotion, of longing to be again by the side of the dear one, and has no great depth of sentiment. In Schubert's " Songs of 204 CYCLES OF SONG 205 the Mill " and " The Winter Journey," we find veritable gems of song. Schumann, in setting Heine's " Dichter- liebe " (Poet's Love), had at hand something of a tragedy, for the lady jilts her lover and marries a rich man. In his still more beautiful cycle called " Frauen- liebe und Leben " (Woman's Love and Life), domestic happiness is revealed. All of these, however, except Woman's Love and Life, are songs for a man, though women frequently undertake them, perhaps not realizing the artistic error into which they fall. Yet it is said in England that one of the most beautiful musical experiences ever known was that of hearing Jenny Lind render the " Songs of the Mill." I asked Otto Goldschmidt why his wife had sung songs intended for a man; but he seemed to find that there was nothing incongruous in it, in view of the fact that she had sung them so exquisitely. I happen to have in my possession a letter from Pro fessor Max Miiller, the son of the Wilhelm Miiller who wrote the poems. Max Miiller I knew rather well; he was fond of music, and attended my first production of the " Miiller Lieder " at St. James's Hall. In thanking me for what he seemed to feel was a new light which I had shed upon these, he told me in his note that many years before Jenny Lind had sung them for him, thinking he would like to hear his father's poem rendered by her. It is known that her voice went off considerably in her mid dle life, and I imagine it was partly because of this that the philologist expressed himself as being so deeply dis appointed by the great cantatrice's rendition. My work during the London season of 1897 was al most entirely confined to the opera; though, besides my own concerts, a few other appearances preceded the open- 206 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS ing of the opera season. One of these was with Mottl in the third act of Wagner's " Parsifal," in which I again had the great artistic joy of singing the noble phrases allotted to the anguish-ridden Amfortas. The two months following were so filled with operatic per formances and their necessary rehearsals that little work could be done outside Covent Garden. There I had twenty-five appearances in seven master works within two months. My own efforts were entirely devoted to the operas of Wagner, with the single exception of Kienzl's " Evangelimann," in which I played the part of the scoundrelly brother Johannes to the saintly Mathias of Van Dyck and the Magdalena of Madame Schumann- Heink. It may be interesting to students to know that when in America during the previous few months I had studied this role while on tour by means of the recorded music upon the pianola. Not having an accompanist always at hand, I would take the perforated rolls specially pre pared for me, place them upon an instrument in my apartment, and turn on the music. The accompaniment was thus played mechanically and could be turned back whenever I made a mistake and wished to begin over, while I, the book before me, committed the lines to memory, and either closed my eyes or turned away as I desired to repeat my part without looking at the notes. The other characters performed that season were Tel- ramund, Beckmesser, Kurwenal, Alberich, Wotan, and Wolfram. All these were, of course, by this time sung in German with the exception of " Tannhauser," which, owing to the presence of French artists at Covent Garden that year, was sung in the French text prepared by Wag ner himself for the first Parisian production. I origi- CYCLES OF SONG 207 nally studied the opera in Italian; then in German; while on the occasion of the performances of the fiftieth anni versary of the work it was given in English; and now it was in French! Journet was the Landgrave, Van Dyck Tannhauser, and Madame Eames Elizabeth. The con ductor was Mancinelli, to whom it was all one in what language anything was sung; his language was the lan guage of music. At this time I had an interesting evening with Henry Irving. No one had been a harder worker than he, nor in his day had played more parts. He said, " Ah, my boy! " in his peculiar manner, " I see what you are doing at the opera something different every time you play, eh? It reminds me of myself once; nowadays I have long runs. Yes, yes, so much for success; but the time was when I had to play a different thing every night, too ; more of them than you do now, many more, only all that I did was in our own language; you have to sing sometimes in Italian, sometimes in French, sometimes in German, besides singing in English. Then, there's the music ! How the devil do you know what is coming next ? How do you keep one opera separate from the other in your mind? I can't make head or tail out of it. Ah, but it is a great life; yes, yes, my boy, a great life! Hard work, though what? hard work." ' Well, Sir Henry," said I, u hard work doesn't seem to trouble you at all." " No," said he, " I like it; the more of it the better for me. As long as a man is interested he's happy, if he is happy he is content, and if he is content he is all right. Work as hard as you like, it will not hurt you, if you're happy and content. So, my boy, even with all those languages and all that music, if you like it, you're all 208 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS right! But what puzzles me is, how you know when to come in! I don't know .much about music," he added, " but I like a tune, and I don't find any tune in that damned German music! " The company at Covent Garden that year was indeed of the best, including all the great people, and under Anton Seidl I had the joy of singing Wotan in " The Valkyrie " with Van Dyck, the talented American, Susan Strong, Schumann-Heink, and the superb Marie Brema. My inches are not great, though my voice was ade quate for that and many subsequent occasions as the Mas ter of the Gods ; -but to simulate a height much greater than my own was a rather difficult thing to do, par ticularly when I was contrasted with persons taller than myself. It is interesting for an amateur and student to know how an artist supplies natural deficiencies. In my case, there being no secret about it, I confess to availing myself of every aid that costuming and make-up can af ford. On my feet were buskins with heavy soles, includ ing insoles and high heels, which together gave me an ex tra three inches. The cloak that hung from my shoulders reached nearly to the ground in perpendicular lines to add to the effect of height, there was long blond hair and beard, a helmet crowned my head with two great eagle wings rising from its sides, and I carried a long spear. As I am sturdy of build, the effect was remarkable from the front. I was constantly surprising myself in my make-up, as the god Wotan one night and the dwarf Alberich the next; now the stalwart Telramund and then the querulous Beckmesser. But these things are " all one," as the Clown says in u Twelfth Night " : " But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day." DAVID BISPHAM as Wotan in Wagner's " Valkyrie." From a Photograph by Arnold Genthe, New York CYCLES OF SONG 209 Before leaving for America I had an invitation to sing at the Birmingham festival in the autumn of 1897, and while in New York had been engaged to appear at the festival at Worcester, Massachusetts, which began only two weeks earlier than that at Birmingham. It will readily be seen that it was necessary for me to bestir my self if I were to sing at both of these gatherings. That feat, however, was accomplished after a holiday taken to recuperate from the fatigues of the London season, by returning to America in September, just long enough to take part in four of the Worcester concerts. What was most vividly impressed upon my mind there was the per formance of Horatio Parker's beautiful oratorio " Hora Novissima," Madame Gadski, Gertrude May Stein, Evan Williams, and myself being the quartette fortunate enough to render this distinguished composition. In this connection I am glad to say that upon my re turn to England I not only carried word of the success of Parker's work to the directors of the Birmingham fes tival, but took with me as well a copy of the music, which I placed in the hands of Richter, by whom it was at once appreciated. He showed it to others, with the result that not long afterward this work was performed in Worcester Cathedral at the Festival of the Three Choirs, and because of its English reception our distinguished American musician received an honorary degree from Cambridge University. It is unnecessary to give the programs of the two func tions at which I sang in such close proximity; suffice it to say that our oldest American festival did not in the least suffer, all things being considered, by comparison with the splendid performances of the much older institution at Birmingham, There is in America, however, .a lack of 210 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS ceremoniousness, almost amounting to informality, in contrast to similar occasions abroad. I recall two cases of assumption on the part of great prima donnas who took part in such entertainments in the United States which could hardly have happened in England. One of these queens of song entered the artists' room in the fes tival hall, stared around superciliously, and inquired, "Who are all these people?" She was told that they were the other principals, members of the committee, and others having official relations with the function. Haughtily declining an introduction to any of them, she demanded a dressing room of her own. One was hastily extemporized in a corner of the auditorium near the stage, from which my lady emerged in her royal raiment, as frigid as an icicle, leaving her audience fairly frost bitten. Even more famous was the other diva who found the hall at the dress rehearsal crowded with auditors. She demanded to know who they were, and what they were doing at a rehearsal. It was explained that t'he houses for the regular performances had been sold out, and the public demand was so great that these townsfolk had been admitted for a small sum to hear as much as they could under the circumstances. " If they have paid you," the songstress rejoined, " you will have to pay me." When the music began, she sang under her voice so that she could not be heard by the orchestra. It was ex plained that she must sing louder. " Send these people away, then! " she ordered. The management had to do as she wished rather than submit to an extortion, and the audience, departing, carried word of such arrant cupidity throughout the city, to which neither lady ever returned. Quite otherwise was a certain artist treated at one of the English festivals, where no such nonsense is put up CYCLES OF SONG 211 with. The festival opened at the customary hour or eleven o'clock in the morning. One of the principal soloists had not arrived, and did not arrive, for over an hour. Another artist sang her part, for she had for gotten that she had to appear, and was sound asleep. When she arrived at the hall she was ushered into the committee room, where the heads of the festival threat ened to terminate her engagement then and there. On her knees, before the outraged committee, she was so far forgiven as to be permitted to finish her engagement, but that door for further advancement remained forever closed to her. At Birmingham, besides "Elijah," "The Messiah," and many other choral and miscellaneous works, there was given Purcell's " King Arthur," which in its quaint old style was extremely effective, reproducing in 1897 the work first heard in 1691. This contains the remarkable Frost Scene, which I have since so often performed in my concerts. Love comes to the frozen North and bids the " Genius of Cold awake, and winter from his furry mantle shake." Then is seen to arise the majestic figure of the Frost King, icicles depending from his hair and beard. As he shakes himself free from the snow, he addresses Love in shivering accents ; but to utter Dryden's extraordinary lines effectively is a task which might puz zle any vocalist, for the voice must shake, literally shake and chatter, with the cold. The piece cannot be sung, in the ordinary acceptation of the word song; it has to be rendered, but rendered effectively; and I may say, with out boasting, I have known half the women in the au dience to draw their cloaks about them before I had finished my declamation of this two-century-old novelty. Richter prepared this antiquated music with great care, 212 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS amusing us by his quaint pronunciation of English. When he first came to London, his accent and general manner caused many stories to be told about him. On one occasion he had been invited with his wife, whom he adored, to go for an extended visit to a country house not far from London. Richter had to come up to town every few days, and at the railway station bought a re turn ticket for himself, and a single ticket for his wife. To the amusement of the bystanders he was heard to ask in a loud voice, " Giff me two tickets, vone for me to come back, and vone for my vife, not to come back ! " During their residence in England Mrs. Richter be came ill and was afflicted with attacks of fainting, what the Germans call schwindeln, and had to lie down. When some one solicitously inquired of the great con ductor after the health of his wife, Doctor Richter re plied: u My vife, she is very bad; venn she does not lie she schwindles." It was rather a rush to sing upon Friday evening in Worcester, Massachusetts, and catch the steamer on Saturday morning in New York in order to present my self a week later at Birmingham, England, where I had faithfully promised the committee to be for the final full rehearsals. Richter was satisfied before I left for America that I knew the work that I was to perform; but I was not prepared for a heavy fog off the Irish coast, which did not allow my vessel to land in Liverpool until Sunday. I sent a telegram from Queenstown and, much ashamed of myself, arrived at Birmingham on Sunday morning during a rehearsal. All went well, however, and I was forgiven, as I had to contend against force majeure. A few days after the conclusion of the Birmingham CYCLES OF SONG 213 festival, I was invited to appear before Queen Victoria at her Scotch country seat of Balmoral Castle. Great statesmen and brave warriors had quailed before that little old lady, who knew everything that went on within her realm; and I have rarely been afflicted with such an attack of nerves as that from which I suffered that eve ning before a company of ladies and gentlemen, many of whom I knew. All of them probably understood what was going on under my evening coat and in the neighbor hood of my knees. The castle, by the way, is not a castle but merely a good-sized country house, much less ostentatious than those occupied by many of the English nobility and gentry. I was put up at a neighboring inn and brought during the evening to the royal residence, where I was made com fortable until, dinner over, the Queen, having reached the drawing-room, would be ready to receive me. I was informed by one of the gentlemen-in-waiting how to make my entrance into the royal presence. On step ping into the room I was to bow once, take two steps forward, and bow again; two more steps forward, bow again, and I would then be at my place beside the piano. My accompanist, having done likewise, was to take his seat, and the music was to begin immediately. The little rehearsal having been gone through satisfactorily, I tremblingly entered the august presence, did as I was told, and proceeded to sing, the program having been ar ranged beforehand by correspondence with one of the ladies of Queen Victoria's immediate circle. The Monarch was seated at a little table in the middle of a rather large room, the windows of which were hung with tartan plaid. She had on enormous spectacles and with the aid of a magnifying glass she consulted the pro- 214 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS gram, which had been written in large letters and placed upon the table beside her. It happened that as I was singing Schubert's " Who is Sylvia/' the Queen lifted the glass to read my program, just as I sang the words : " Love doth to her eyes repair To help him of his blindness." When I came to this passage, she quickly dropped the magnifying glass and put down the program, as much as to say, " I need nothing to help me of my blindness ! " I afterward learned that she was sensitive about her rapidly failing eyesight. Upon finishing the first half of my short selection of songs, the Queen's principal lady-in- waiting came forward and took me to her Majesty, who spoke with me some minutes kindly, asking about myself, my English ancestry, and my American life and artistic desires. When the concert was over she expressed her gratification at the performance, and I departed from the presence to be entertained at supper by some of the gen tlemen of the household. A few days later I received as a memento of the occasion a beautiful scarfpin from Queen Victoria, with an appreciative note thanking me for the pleasure the music had given her Majesty. CHAPTER XXV BEETHOVEN IN DRAMA This is our master, famous, calm, and dead, Borne on our shoulders. Robert Browning. AFTER all my experience I seldom felt that I was really acting in opera, and always longed to take part in straight drama ; though opera was my business and my pleasure as well, I nearly always felt myself in an anomalous position. To sing was one thing, to act quite a different matter; but both to sing and act seemed to me somewhat artificial. I have found operatic acting so limited by the music that it imposes a restraint upon the performer and often obliges him to make gestures which carry no conviction. But some gestures have to be made ; the singer cannot stand motionless as in a concert. Opera acting is sui generis and would be entirely out of place and grotesque in drama. Yet fortunately such parts as generally fell to my lot on the lyric stage were so strong in character that they are not open to these objections. Some years before, when living in Florence and study ing for concert work, I was shown by a friend an old pho tograph, which at first I took to be a copy of Beethoven's portrait. This was not the case, however, for the pic ture was the representation of a well-known Viennese actor in the part of Beethoven in a little play by Hugo Muller called " Adelaide." I was greatly interested and realized that I, too, could look like Beethoven. I made 215 216 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS up my mind to act the part, though I did not know where the play could be found. Several years later I mentioned the matter to a friend in London, who said he knew of the play and had seen it in Germany. As he was start ing for Berlin that very day he promised to make in quiries of an actor of his acquaintance and try to obtain it for me. A few weeks after, I was delighted to find that he had brought me a little pamphlet yellow with age which he had seen by chance upon a second-hand book stall in the street and bought for a few pence. With my German master I immediately set to work translat ing it, though there seemed then to be no opportunity of performing the piece. This opportunity came, however, as all things come to him who waits. Soon after I reached America in October, 1897, my friend Morris Bagby, at whose now famous Musical Mornings I had already sung twice, asked me if I had anything new to vary the character of these entertain ments, particularly of that with which the ballroom in the new Waldorf-Astoria Hotel was to be opened on December 6. I told Mr. Bagby of my musical find in the Beethoven play. Very enthusiastic, he immediately made arrangements to produce it and to have Anton Seidl with his orchestra render a short program of the master's music before the play began. In the cast were Mrs. Wolcot and Mrs. Whiffen, two of the most distinguished elder actresses of the American stage, and the beautiful Julie Opp, later Mrs. William Faversham, who was ad mirable in the title role. The services of these three ladies .were loaned me through the courtesy of my friend Daniel Frohman, from the famous company of the old Lyceum Theater, which then stood in Fourth Avenue near Twenty-fourth Street. I had the further assistance BEETHOVEN IN DRAMA 217 of Miss Nita Carritte and of MacKenzie Gordon, the sweet-voiced Scotch tenor, who played the other male part and sang Beethoven's exquisite lyric, "Adelaide." The piano on the stage, which represented as nearly as possible the interior of the room in which Beethoven died, was the master's own concert grand, which had been kindly loaned me for this occasion by Morris Steinert of New Haven, out of his famous collection of old instru ments. As I sat in my dressing room before the play, I had beside me on the table a bust of Beethoven, from which I was making up. The touches here and there, added to the assumed expression on my own countenance, made the resemblance between my face and that of the bust quite remarkable. A friend, entering the room at my back, saw my face in the glass and that of the bust over my shoulder, and in amazement exclaimed, " If you were whitened or the bust colored no one could dis tinguish between the two heads." Thus encouraged I went on with my part. At the conclusion of the play, Seidl came on the stage, his eyes all red, and said to me in a broken voice, u You are ze only man vich haff effer made me to veep." The occasion was memorable to me in more ways than one, and led to many subsequent performances of the piece that season in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Chicago, and also in London during the following sum mer. There were changes of cast, which included the names of Yvonne de Treville and Kitty Cheatham as Clara and Hilda Spong as Adelai'de; and I had on several of these occasions either Mr. Damrosch to conduct the Beethoven program for my play, or the Dannreuther Quartette to play the master's chamber music, or Ma- 2i8 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS dame Gadski to sing. The performances without excep tion gave pleasure and made an indelible impression on the minds of our audiences, but for some reason the Press has with almost one accord objected to the presentation of Beethoven on the stage, several critics even going so far as to hold that I was trespassing upon sacred ground in impersonating him. Events had brought about a cessation of opera under Mr. Grau, but my second American season began, never theless, at the Metropolitan Opera House, where I as sisted Madame Marcella Sembrich at her first appearance in concert in America, when that celebrated and gifted lady sang in superb fashion. On several subsequent oc casions that season was I honored by Madame Sembrich's request to participate with her in her concerts in New York and elsewhere. It will be recalled that we had both been pupils of the old Italian master, Francesco Lamperti. Sembrich had the advantage over almost any singer I ever knew in being so musical as to have practi cally mastered both violin and piano before taking up the study of the voice. Being so fine a musician it is no won der that she was able to accomplish what she did in her later years. Added to these accomplishments was a great histrionic talent, which made her one of the out standing ornaments of her profession. The season upon which I embarked in this way turned out to be one of the busiest of my whole career: it gave me 112 appearances in 28 American cities, in most of which I had not sung before, embraced every kind of vocal work, including opera, oratorio, my own individual song recitals, miscellaneous concerts, and musical fes tivals, such as those of Indianapolis, of Ann Arbor, and the famous Cincinnati festival, with which my season BEETHOVEN IN DRAMA 219 closed. During these appearances I sang in ten differ ent oratorios or works of a similar nature. For the sake of the student I will mention their names: Han del's " Messiah," Mendelssohn's " Elijah," Beethoven's " Missa Solemnis," Schumann's " Paradise and the Peri," Berlioz's " Damnation of Faust," Gounod's " Redemp tion," Benoist's " Lucifer," Massenet's " Eve," Grieg's " Olaf Trygvasson," and Stehle's " Frithiof's Return," besides selections from " Parsifal " and other Wag- nerian music dramas. However interesting such concerts and festivals as these may seem to the singer, however valuable they are to his artistic standing, it is nevertheless a fact that grand opera exercises the greatest influence upon the mind, not only of the participant, but upon that of the public as well. The average music lover thinks more of an opera singer than he does of an oratorio singer, nor is the rea son far to seek the glamour of the stage holds un disputed sway, and a story told in choral form is far less impressive than a story told in costume, with action, and upon a stage furnished with appropriate scenery. While singing at the Metropolitan Opera House, dur ing the previous season, we were given to understand that most of the money made in New York was lost during the opera company's visit to Chicago. Whatever may have been the reason for the temporary abandonment of opera, the fact remains that Maurice Grau did not have an opera company in New York during the season of 1897- 98. During the previous year, Walter Damrosch had conducted a season of grand opera in Philadelphia, and, the field being left open in 189798, in conjunction with Charles Ellis, manager of the Boston Symphony Orches tra, he inaugurated in the Quaker City that winter a siea- 220 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS son of opera, which was continued in New York, Boston, and Chicago and which yielded the new firm of impre sarios a handsome return. Even Chicago, which the previous year was loath to patronize opera, now turned out its beauty and fashion and mightily encouraged the young impresarios who had dared to tread the path which such a master as Maurice Grau had followed almost to his ruin. The motto of Damrosch and Ellis might well have been " Nothing venture, nothing win." As a mat ter of fact they did venture, and they did win. An admirable company had been gathered together, headed by Mesdames Melba and Nordica, and also the talented young singer Madame Gadski. Among the tenors were Salignac the Frenchman, and Kraus the Ger man; among the barytones and basses were Campanari, an Italian, Emil Fischer, and myself; and a. considerable repertory of opera was given, standard works of the French and Italian schools, but more particularly of Wagnerian music-drama, of which the public of those days never had enough. Any opera season is likely to have its surprises, and the surprise of that year was the success of " The Flying Dutchman." The character was not new to me, yet was one in which I had never before felt myself entirely at home. Doubtless the reason for its popularity that sea son was that Damrosch took up the work with enthusiasm, whereas my previous performances in London had been conducted in a perfunctory manner by those who did not really care for the music, characterized by Madame Eames at the time as a " back number." Then, too, we had the great advantage of the assistance of Madame Gadski, who perfectly suited the part of Elsa. BEETHOVEN IN DRAMA 221 I have often wondered whether the public can real ize what the work of a busy artist obliges him to do. The opera season in Philadelphia was so arranged that about two weeks elapsed before I had to appear again with Mr. Damrosch's organization; my manager booked a number of concerts which I proceeded to fulfill mean while. After singing with the Boston Symphony Or chestra in Philadelphia, I appeared the following evening in Washington as Telramund in " Lohengrin " with our opera company. Proceeding immediately to Brooklyn, I sang again with the Boston Symphony Orchestra at the old Academy of Music on the afternoon of December 17. That evening Ysaye, the Belgian violinist, and I ap peared with Anton Seidl and his orchestra, this being the last time I ever had the opportunity of singing with that great conductor. I sang once more with the Boston Symphony under Emil Paur the following evening before taking a train for Milwaukee, where I appeared in " The Messiah " on December 20. Repeating that oratorio in Chicago on December 21, I was off for St. Louis for the same work and sang there December 22, thence back to Chicago again for " The Messiah " the evening after. Jumping to Nashville, Tennessee, I took part there on Christmas Day in a recital of songs, returning to New York for " The Messiah " with the Oratorio Society at Carnegie Hall on December 29 and 30, and sang in Philadelphia on December 31 in u The Flying Dutch man " under Mr. Damrosch's conducting. Seated comfortably at breakfast, audiences of a pre vious evening read the accounts of the music they have heard, but we artists are not enjoying the repose which most people think we take to a much greater extent than 222 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS themselves. Far from it! A busy vocalist has prob ably taken a train after the evening performance, trav eled all night, been obliged to get up in the early morn ing, make a hasty toilet, get a hurried breakfast at the hotel, and attend a rehearsal by ten o'clock for a per formance that afternoon or evening. After which, even if a night in bed is possible, comes a call at five or -six o'clock in order to catch a train at seven for a journey all day to appear in another city. This is not in the least uncommon; yet I have often been taunted with the laxity of my life ; with the late hours in which it is supposed that I indulge myself, and with the comfortable sleep that I am believed to be enjoying in the lap of luxury until near noon. Nay, nay, admiring public ; such is not the case ! The singers who you think are getting fat from laziness are in all probability getting fat because they have not time enough to take the exercise they would like, or, dur ing the time they might be exercising, are too tired to in dulge in it, but have to go to bed half dead. The last opera to be performed in Philadelphia at the close of a repertory which included the whole of the Wagnerian " Niebelungen Ring," was Damrosch's " The Scarlet Letter," in which Gadski and Kraus were ad mirable as Hester and Arthur respectively and in which I reveled in the disagreeable but interesting character part of Chillingworth, a part that I regret not having had any further opportunity to perform, as this interest ing work has never, to my knowledge, been revived. Mr. Damrosch tells an amusing story of a supper party given in his honor by those who participated in " The Scarlet Letter " after the occasion of a previous presentation. It is to be supposed that the artists were foreigners and did not in reality understand the mean- BEETHOVEN IN DRAMA 223 ing of the words they were singing in English, or they would not, with considerable ceremony and many com plimentary speeches, have presented Mr. Damrosch with a large scarlet letter A which they placed upon his breast. CHAPTER XXVI MY NATIVE TONGUE The more I sang in foreign tongues the more I loved my own. After De Belloy. I HAVE ever inveighed against the custom, so happily on the wane, which for so long obliged us English-speak ing artists to sing in England and in the United States in the languages, French, Italian, or German of our musical confreres, who are too indolent, to say the least, to learn English. In Italy the audiences desire to hear operas sung in their own beautiful accents. Germany and France have long ago broken away from singing operas in Italian. The Germans love their rich but rough tongue, while the French treat their exquisite language with the highest respect and the government maintains theatres and opera houses, where French only is spoken or sung and where it must be enunciated to per fection. In England and America, as has often been pointed out, operatic and orchestral music has, for many decades, been imported. It took a long time for the English to understand that their own people were able to write music as well as the inhabitants of any other coun try. Once let us learn the art and encourage the practice of it, and America will surely realize that the same idea should prevail here. Though I have studied Italian, French, and German and have sung in them for years, I cannot be said to be proficient in those languages, and it has always seemed 224 MY NATIVE TONGUE 225 a pity that we should be obliged to sing in tongues which we can only partly understand, to English and American audiences who do not understand us at all. There is nothing bad in English, as a medium for song, except bad English. It was early in 1898 that the Liza Lehmann song cycle, " In a Persian Garden," the words selected from the Ru- baiyat of Omar Khayyam, was performed in New York for the first time after its English premiere, from the music which I had brought from London, by a quartette consisting of Mrs. Seabury Ford, soprano, Marguerite Hall, alto, MacKenzie Gordon, tenor, and myself, bass, under the direction of Victor Harris, who presided at the piano. The entrancing strains of this exquisite com position were frequently rendered by us during that and subsequent seasons and were taken up by many other quartettes throughout the country, and it soon became widely known, individual numbers even being sung in churches. The season following it was revived by me at one of my concerts in London, but, whatever the reason, it never became as popular in its native land as in the United States, notwithstanding its beautiful and thoroughly in telligible English. At the conclusion of this season I gave a concert at Mendelssohn Hall, when I was surprised in a way that I had not thought to be by an American audience. Hith erto, though singing frequently in English, I had yielded to the tastes of the public and performed in other lan guages. But on this occasion my recital consisted en tirely of, and was called, " Gems of Song in English," with the result that I had a larger and more enthusiastic audience than I had ever had before. I received an eye- 226 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS opener as to the gradually changing tastes of the public. So great was the success of this concert that I re peated its program upon various occasions elsewhere, and continue the practice of singing in English to this day, un less there is some special reason for doing otherwise, as in the rendering of the cycles of songs by Schumann, Schu bert, or Brahms in the original German, rather than in an indifferent translation. Yet at that time, when sing ing Brahms's " Four Serious Songs," I remember being taken to task by some one who wanted to know why I did not sing them " in the original German." My reply was that I considered the words of the Scripture to be suf ficiently original for English-speaking people, and that we did not need a German translation for what was our daily bread, or ought to be. Of course, I was rapidly making acquaintance with American musicians. Among these was the talented young composer, Henry Hadley, to whom I am indebted for many engagements and many of whose earlier songs I helped to bring out. I sang the clever reconstruction made by Henry Holden Huss from the memoranda Beethoven had made for a setting of " The Erl King," and also Huss's musical setting for " The Seven Ages of Man," which I first gave in 1898 in America, later in London, and which I continue to sing to the present time. After the opera I had a busy and interesting season of concert engagements at various music centers, including the festival in Indianapolis under Van der Stucken, and at Ann Arbor, Michigan, under Professor Albert A. Stan ley of the University of Michigan, who has been one of the great forces in music in America for the past twenty- MY NATIVE TONGUE 227 five years. Nearly all the principals at the festival were Americans, with the exception of a man whom I had never thought to be associated with, it had been so long since I, as a youth, had seen him in his prime upon the operatic stage. I refer to the Italian barytone, Signer Giuseppe Del Puente; he sang that year in Verdi's " Manzoni " Requiem Mass. Though his voice was diminishing in volume, his art was still supreme. Del Puente had been living and teaching in Philadelphia, where I had met him shortly before. I remember him running to compliment me in the old-fashioned, spacious, portrait-hung greenroom of the Academy of Music, as I came off the stage after singing in some opera. " Ah," he said, " you move your tongue in just the right way; I can see everything he do." This was a curious sidelight upon his vocal methods. I had always admired Del Puente's luscious tones, never thinking of how he made them. He seems to have thought that the tongue should stand up at the end while I had been taught it should lie flat in the mouth. If my tongue was unduly prominent it was from accident rather than design; according to Del Puente's method I should have intentionally let the audience see it at work. Each vocal teacher has his own ideas and becomes set in his ways, perhaps thinking that similar methods will bring forth equally good results with his pupils. Of this I am not at all persuaded. Any means to a vocal end should be concealed as far as possible from the public. It is, however, difficult in singing either to practice what we preach, or to preach what we practice. The proof of t-he vocal pudding, however, is in the hearing; what is really good to hear has been properly produced, and 228 A QUAKER SINGER'S RECOLLECTIONS vice versa. What is not agreeable is either not naturally good, or, whatever the care spent upon it, has been in jured in the making. More likely than not too many cooks have helped to spoil the broth. The most important festival of 1898 was that of Cin cinnati, where for the first time I sang under Theodore Thomas, whom I had admired from boyhood. Though he did not know me, it so happened that I had the lion's share and opened with Berlioz's " Damnation of Faust." The following afternoon and evening were miscellaneous concerts with symphonic music by Mozart, Beethoven, Franck, Brahms, Weber, and Dvorak, vocal numbers from Handel, Weber, Schubert, Wagner, and Liszt, and choral work by Bach and Grieg. The fourth concert was devoted entirely to Beethoven, Symphony No. 5 and the u Missa Solemnis." The fifth concert entirely to Schu mann : the Fourth Symphony and his choral work, " Para dise and the Peri." The sixth concert consisted of sym phonic and vocal music of modern composers, Brahms, Marschner, Rimsky Korsakoff, Dvorak, Smetana, Ber lioz, Ponchielli, Saint-Saens, Boito, and Hugo Kaun, the American. The final concert was entirely Wagnerian, with copious selections from 338, 350 Chamberlain, Will (boy friend), 28 Chambers, Haddon (playwright), 142 Chaminade, Mile, (composer), 350 Chappell, Arthur (director), 179 Cheatham, Kitty (singer), 217 Chester Cathedral (England), 22 Chesterfield, Lord, 234 Chew Mansion, 7 Chicago, 59, 125, 154, 155, 194, 217, 219, 220, 221, 241, 247, 283, 285, 286, 293, 324, 329, 333, 341 Chicago Orchestra, 281 Chillingworth ("The Scarlet Let ter"), 222 Chinese, 325 Chinese Theatre, 234 Choate, Joseph H. (ambassador), 304 Choate, Mrs., 304 Chopin (composer), 332 "Choufleuri" (opera, Offenbach), 45 Christ Church, 50 Christie's Minstrels, 91, 295 Christmas Pantomime, 38 Church of England (music of), 49 Cincinnati, 324, 325, 343 Cincinnati College of Music, 343 Cincinnati Festival, 218, 228, 285 City of New York, 365 Civil War, 3, 7, 16, 319 Civil War Songs, 65 Clara (in play, "Adelaide")* 217 Clarendon House, i Classic Theatre, 25, 269, 270, 272- 274, 276 Claudio (in "Much Ado"), 294 Clemens, Clara (singer), 341 Cleveland, Grover (President), 327, 328 Coates, John (tenor), 294 Coquelin (actor), 232, 291-293 Coini, Jacques (stage director), 369 Cole, Belle (singer), 306 Cole, Rossetter G. (composer), 280 Coleridge-Taylor, S. (composer), 287-289 Colonel Berners (in " Cut Off with a Shilling"), 44 Colorado River, 356 Columbian Exposition, 154 Columbia River, 357 Columbus Circle (N. Y.), 369 Columbus, O., 286 Comedie Franchise, 270 " Come into the Garden, Maud " (song), 88 Commencement Day, 371 Commissioner of Parks, 154 Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, n 3 8o INDEX Connecticut, 341 Conried (impresario), 309 Constantinople, 25 Continent, the, 286, 303 Convention Hall, 297 Converse, Frederic (composer), 359 Cooke, Jay (banker), 33 Cooper, Fenimore (author), 65 Cooper, Mrs. William (musician), 65 Cooper, William (sculptor), 65 Cope, Henry (cousin), 19 Coppelius (opera, "Tales of Hoff mann"), 370 " Coquaine " (overture, Elgar), 311 Corinthians, First, 345 "Coronation Ode" (Elgar), 311 Corsi, Pini (singer), 139 Costanzi Theatre, 24 Count Bozenta, 331 Count Montebello (in "The Ferry Girl," Hill), 82 Count Rudolfo, 84 Court Opera, (Vienna), 321 Covent Garden Opera House (Lon don), 35, 73, 83, 85, 105, 107, 112, 113, 115, 117, 118, 124, 129, 136, 137, 139, 145, 165, 166, 170, 171, 181, 182, 185, 206, 208, 260-262, 294, 302 Cowboys, 325 Cowen, Sir Frederick (composer), 105, 134, 1 66, 205 "Cox & Box" (opera, Sullivan), 43 Cox (in "Cox & Box"), 43 Cramer, Pauline (soprano), 117 Crawford, F. Marion (novelist), 65 "Creation, The" (oratorio, Haydn), 52, 320 "Creation's Hymn," (song), 350 Cremonini (singer), 187, 193 Cricket, game of, 19 Croatian Singer, 291 Croesus, 276, 279 Crookes, Sir William (scientist), 76 Cross, Michael H. (musician), 33, 47, 48, 49 Crystal gazing, 79 Crystal Palace (London), 58, 82, 124, 131, 159, 305 " Cujus Animam" (song), 69 Cupid, 323 "Cup of Tea, A" (play), 44 Cushman, Charlotte (actress), 38 "Cut Off with a Shilling" (play), 44 Cycle of Great Song Cycles, 323 Dakota, 285 Daland (in "The Flying Dutch man," Wagner), 121, 167 D'Albert, Eugene (pianist), 282 Dame Quickly (in "Falstaff"), 139 "Damnation of Faust" (Berlioz), 145, 219, 228 Damrosch, Walter (conductor), 125, 217, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 230, 233, 235, 236, 283, 285, 291, 296, 310, 311, 313, 323, 324, 328, 350 Dancing Dervishes, 25, 26 Dane, the ("Hamlet"), 143 Dannreuther Quartette, 217 "Danny Deever" (song by Dam rosch), 230, 231, 236, 283, 317, 318, 328, 350, 357 " Danny Deever, The Hanging of " (poem, Kipling), 230 Darwin, Charles (scientist), 372 " Daughter of the Regiment " (opera, Donizetti), 369 Davenport, E. L. (actor), 41 "David" (Michael Angelo's), 65 David, the Singer of the Church, 276, 277 Davies, Ben (tenor), 100, 229, 305 Davies, Fanny (pianist), 135, 164, 180, 236 Davies, Ffrangc.on (singer), 306 Davies, Walford, 158 Davis, Richard Harding (author), 230 "Death of Nelson, The" (song), 88 De Bohun, Henry (ancestor), 14 Debussy, Claude (composer), 306 Declaration of Independence, 3 De Clare, Richard and Gilbert (an cestor), 14 De Koven, Reginald (composer), 43,. I 97 De Lacie, John (ancestor), 14 Delaware River, 15 Delibes (composer), 350 Del Puente, Giuseppe (barytone), 56, 227 INDEX 381 De Lucia (tenor), 165, 265 De Mowbray, William (ancestor), J 4 De Nevers (in " Les Huguenots"), 124, 139, 183 De Pachmann, Vladimir (pianist), 330, 33i De Quincey, Saher (ancestor), 14 De Reszke, Edouard (basso), 129, 182, 187, 191, 244, 250, 266, 267, 290, 292, 297, 309 De Reszke, Jean (tenor), 113, 123, 129, 137, 182, 185, 187, 191, 192, 232, 244, 250, 266, 267, 292 "Der Freischiitz" (opera, Weber), 136 Dervishes, Dancing, 25, 26 Dervishes, Howling, 26 De Treville, Yvonne (soprano), 217 Detroit, 285 DeVere, Clementine (singer), 190 De Vere, Robert (ancestor), 14 Dewsbury, 174 Diamond Jubilee, 264 Dibdin, Charles (composer), 84 " Dichterliebe " (song cycle, Schu mann), 205 Dick (in "Vicar of Wakefield"), 334 Dickens, Charles (author), 261 Dickens's Land, 80 Dicksee, Frank (painter), 146 Dictionary of Music and Musicians, "Die Frisst is um" (song), 262 Diligent Engine Company (Phila delphia), 3 Dippel, Andreas (tenor), 243, 249, 292, 296 Dobson, Austin (poet), 332 Doctor Fleming (in " Weak Wom an"), 44 Doctor of Laws LL.D. (Degree of), 37i Dogberry (in "Much Ado"), 294 Dolmetsch, Arnold (musician), 131, 145, 168, 169 Domesday Book, 10, n "Domestic Symphony" (Strauss), 323 "Don Carlos" (opera, Verdi), 24 "Don Giovanni" (opera, Mozart), 187, 265, 266 Don Hannibal (in "The Night Bell"), 369 Donizetti (composer), 350, 368, 369 Don Jose (opera "Carmen"), 369 Donoghue, John (sculptor), 153, 154 Dorking, 147 Dramatic Literature, Love for, 40 "Dream of Fair Women, A" (Tennyson), 358 "Dream of Gerontius" (oratorio, Elgar), 287, 311 "Dreams" (song), 350 Dresden, 266 Drew, John (actor), 39 Drew, Mr. and Mrs. John, the elder (actors), 39, 40 Drury Lane Theatre, 114, 136, 180, 261 Dryden (poet), 211 Dublin, 313 Dublin, University of, 117 Due de Longueville (in "The Ba- soche"), 81, 97, 100 Duke of Connaught, 265 Duke of Edinburgh, 103 Duse, Elenora (actress), 166 "Dutchman, The Flying" (opera, Wagner), 121, 167, 172, 190, 220, 228, 233, 244, 247, 260, 264, 322 Dvorak (composer), 228, 287 Dysart, Lord, 112 Eames, Emma (soprano), 137, 184, 187, 207, 220, 241, 243, 249, 250, 252, 290, 296, 309 Earthquake in Italy, 63, 64 Eastern States, 283 Easton, Madame Florence (so prano), 368 "Ecco il Leone," 295 Edgardo (Reeves as), 85 Edinburgh, 128 "Edward" (song, by Loewe), 159, 350 Edwin Forrest Home (Philadel phia), 126 "Egmont" (drama, Goethe), 310 Egyptian Mummy (poem on), 79 Eisler, Paul (conductor), 369 "Elaine" (Tennyson), 358 Elberfeld Horses, 116 Elderly Friend's Story, 53 382 INDEX Elgar, Edward (composer), 287, 3" Elihu (in "Job"), 371 "Elijah" (oratorio, Mendelssohn), 52, 160, 163, 211, 219, 285, 341, Elizabeth (in "Tannhauser "), 172, 207, 241 Ellis, Chas. (manager Boston Sym phony Orchestra), 219, 220 Ellis-Damrosch Opera Company, 232 Elsa (in "Lohengrin"), 182, 220, 250 Elsenheimer, Dr. N. J. (composer), 358 Emperor William (Old), 32 Empire Theatre, 368 Engadine (Swiss), 72 England, 10, n, 12, 22, 60, 61, 62, 72, 102, 105, 121, 125, 129, 131, 144, 1 60, 1 68, 172, 174, 178, 204, 205, 209, 210, 212, 224, 229, 231, 234, 236, 266, 268, 286, 289, 295, 303, 306, 3" Engle, Marie (soprano), 166 English, 207, 209, 212, 213, 214, 294, 324 English, a world language, 105, 143, 184, 334, 345 English Channel, 33, 106 English Comedies, 270 English Composers, 33, 119, 287, 303, 348 English Compositions, 320 English Ditties, 14 English Festivals, 106, 174, 210 English Lyrics, 283 English Music, 51, 168, 177, 313 English, opera in, 30, 32, 108, 123, 166, 171, 251, 294, 310 English Play, 40 English Poets, 344 English Selections, 134 English, songs in, 33, 317 English-speaking World, 95, 224 English-speaking Audiences, 105, 188, 225, 344, 345, 368 English Versions, 344 " Englishwoman's Love Letters, An" (novel), 333 " Enoch Arden" (melodrama), 280, 302, 306, 314, 320, 321 Episcopal Academy, 40 Epistle of David, the, 276 Erda (in "Rheingold "), 309 "Erl King, The" (song, Loewe), i59 "Erl King, The" (song, Schubert), 49, 104, 226 "Esmeralda" (opera, Goring Thomas), 105 "Esmeralda" (play), 42 " Eugen Onegin " (opera, Tschai- kowsky), 1 08 Europe, 124, 133, 148, 156, 161, 181, 183, 189, 198, 200, 204, 237, 248, 266, 290, 302, 303, 315, 337, 364 European, 253, 256 European Artists, 330 European Countries, 347 European Peasants, 325 European Trip, 21-27, 57, 58, 59, 266 Europeanism, 198 "Euryanthe" (opera, Weber), 164 Eva (in " Mfiistersinger," Wag ner), 123, 137 " Evangelimann " (opera, Kienzl), 206 Evanston, 339, 341 "Eve" (oratorio, Massenet), 219 "Evelyn Innes " (novel, George Moore), 151 Evil One, Music Wile of, 29 "Excelsior" (poem), 16 Fair Rosamund's Bower, 236 "Falstaff" (in opera, Verdi), 121, 122, 136, 139, 143, 166, 266 Cast from Milan, 124 (Opera "Falstaff"), 139, 140 "Fair Hedwig" (ballad, Hebel), 1 80 Fat Knight, the (in "Falstaff"), H3 Faure, Gabriel (composer), 180 "Faust, Damnation of" (Berlioz), 145, 219, 228 "Faust" (opera, Gounod), 30, 36, 113, 139, 187, 313 Faversham, Mrs. William (ac tress), 216 Fechter, Charles (actor), 40, 41, 311 Feld (conductor), 172 " Ferry Girl, The " (operetta, Lady Arthur Hill), 82 Festival (New York), 52 INDEX 383 Festival Peace Concert, 305 " Fidelio " (opera, Beethoven), 136 Field, Charles K. (author), 339, 353, 354 Field, Eugene (poet), 339 Fifth Avenue, 273 Fifth Avenue Hotel (N. Y.), 132 "First Day" (Sunday), 19 First Opera ("Martha"), 30 Fischer, Emil (singer), 220 " Floods of Spring, The " (Rach maninoff), 350 Florence, 23, 61, 63, 64-71, 72, 74, 75, 215 Florence of Worcester, Chronicle of, 10 "Florentine Tragedy" (Oscar Wilde), 358 Florentine Singer, Story of, 69, 70 Florida, 302, 362 Floridia, Pietro (conductor), 343 Flosshilde (in " Rheingold "), 251 "Flying Dutchman, The" (opera, Wagner), 121, 167, 172, 190, 220, 228, 233, 244, 247, 260, 264, 322 Foote, Arthur (composer), 119, 197 Forbes-Robertson, Sir Johnstone (actor), 62, 73 Ford, Ernest (composer), 82, 94-96, 97 Ford, Mrs. Seabury (soprano), 225 Ford (opera "Falstaff"), 139 Foreign Composers, 348 Foreman of the Jury ("Trial by Jury"), 44 Forest, Arthur (actor), 329, 330 "Forest, The" (opera, Smythe), 303 Fort Sumter, 3 Foster, Muriel (English alto), 311 Four o'Clock Concerts, 293 "Four Serious Songs" (Brahms), 190, 194, 197, 226, 250 "Fourth Day" (Wednesday), 19 Fourth of July, 4 Fourth Symphony (Schumann), 228 Fox, George (Early Quaker), 29 " Fra Diavolo " (opera by Auber), 165, 166, 182 France, 106, 224, 270, 305 Franck, Caesar (composer), 228 Franklin, Benjamin (statesman), 2, 27, 304, 305 Franklin Square, 14 Franko, Sam, 368, 369 Franz, Robert (composer), 348, 350 " Frauenliebe und Leben " (song), 205, 349 Free Trade Hall (Manchester), 121 " Freischutz, Der " (opera by Web er), 136 Fremstad, Olive (soprano), 303, 304 French, 139, 184, 206, 207, 224 Canadian, 182 Artists, 206 French Lessons, 17, 18 French Operas, 296 Friar, the (in "Romeo and Ju liet"), 292 Friar, the (in "Much Ado"), 294 Fricka (in "Rheingold"), 256, 258 Friedrichs (as Beckmesser), 58 Friends' Meeting, 3, 20, 28, 93 Friends' School (Philadelphia), 15 Friends, Society of, 2, 6 "Frithjof " (cantata, Bruch), 52 "Frithiof's Return" (Steele), 219 Frohman, Daniel (manager), 216, 33 "From the Uplands to the Sea" (song), 158 Frost Scene (Purcell's "King Ar thur"), 211, 253, 350 "Fugitives, The" (recitation, Shel ley), 1 80 Fullerton, Morton, 151 Furness, Doctor Horace Howard (Shakespearean scholar), 45, 127 Furness, Dr. Horace Howard, Jr. (Shakespearean scholar), 45, 127 Gabrilowitsch, Ossip (pianist), 341, 342 Gadski, Madame (singer), 209, 218, 220, 247, 260, 264, 283, 290, 296, 298, 309 "Gaiety Girl" (comic opera), 263 Gaiety Theatre, 98 Galassi (barytone), 56 "Gallia" (cantata, Gounod), 52 Galveston, 325 Garden, Mary (soprano), 304, 307 384 INDEX Gardener, The (in "Sweet hearts"), 43 "Gardy" (Reeves's pet name), 85 Garrick, David (actor), 40, 261, 338 Garrison, Mabel (soprano), 368 Gates, Lucy (singer), 369 Gatty, Alfred (composer), 295 Gaul, George (actor), 371 Gave up smoking, 99 " Gems of Song in English," 225 General von Rosenberg (in "Her Bitterest Foe"), 44 Genius of Cold (in "King Ar thur"), 253 Gericke (conductor), 358 German Actor, 280 German Classics, 344 German Composers, 344 German Element, 313 German Horseman, 23 German Language, 123, 139, 182, 206, 207, 224, 226, 251, 303, 324 German Lesson, 19 German Music, 208, German Opera, 260 German Poems, 344 German Singers, met, 74, 129, 267 Germantown, 7, 48 Germantown, Battle of, 7 Germantown Opera House, 45 Germany, 106, 216, 224, 256, 295, 303 Gertrude (in "Romeo and Juliet"), 292 Gettysburg (Battle of), 3 Ghibelline Battlements, 307 Gilbert, Harry (accompanist), 362 Gilbert, W. S. (composer), 142, 143, 350 Gilbert and Sullivan's operas, 42, 83, 370 "Sorcerer," 44 " Trial by Jury," 44 Gilder, Richard Watson (editor- poet), 230 Giles, Edward (teacher), 47 Gilmore, "Pat" (conductor), 29 Glacial Epoch, 253 Gloucester Cathedral (England), 5*f 173 Gloucester Festival, 174 Gloucestershire, 236 Gluck (composer), 124, 285 Godowsky, Leopold (pianist), 92 Goethe, 161, 291 "Golden Haired Gertrude" (oper etta, Parrish), 43 "Golden Legend, The" (cantata, Sullivan), 159 Goldschmidt, Otto, 205 Goldsmith, Oliver (author), 258, 332, 334 Gomarez, 343 Gordon, MacKenzie (tenor), 217, 225 Gospel according to Andrew, 276 Gosse, Edmund (author), 15 " Gotterdammerung, The " (opera), 167 Gounod, Charles (composer), 52, 131, 135, 160, 219, 265, 292, 302, 3i3, 350, 369 Gozlan (writer), 293 Grand Canon, 356 Grand Opera, 105 Grant, General Fred, 319 Grant, U. S. (President and Gen eral), 3, 49, 50, 319 Grau, Maurice (director), 186, 187, 189, 218, 219, 220, 245, 246, 250, 259, 266, 301, 309, 310 Great Britain, 95, 266, 319 Great Eastern Steamship, ^^ Great War, 369 Great White Way, 238 Greek Theatres, Athens, 24 Greek Theatre, University of Cali fornia), 25, 284, 338 Greek Tragedies, 25, 89 Green Drawing-Room, 267 Greene, Plunkett (singer), 121, 159 Gregorian Music, 10 Gregorian Chants, 10, 68 Gregorowitsch (Russian violinist), Griddley (in "Sixty-Six"), 44 Grieg, Edvard (composer), 219, 228, 286, 350 Grisi, Madame (soprano), 83 Griswold, Putnam (basso), 294 Grossman, Mrs. (Booth's daugh ter), 324 Grove, The Bohemian Club, 353- 354 Grove Plays, 354, 360 Grove, Sir George (editor), 55 INDEX 385 Grosvenor Gallery (London), 82 Guetary (tenor), 123 Guitar, 28 "Guinevere" (Tennyson), 358 Gura (singer), 58 Gurney, Edmund (scientist), 76 Haddow, W. H. (writer), 117 Hadley, Henry (composer), 197, 226, 360, 370 Hagen (in " Gotterdammerung "), 167, 250, 309 Hahn, Reynaldo (composer), 350 "Hail Smiling Morn" (madigral), 87 Halifax, Nova Scotia, 362 England, 174 Hall, Madame Edna (teacher), 329 Hall of Fame, 281 Hall, Marguerite (contralto), 135, 197, 225, 328 Halle, Lady (Madame Norman Ne- ruda, violinist), 125, 179 Halle, Sir Charles (conductor), 120, 121, 159 " Hamadryads, The " (music drama, McCoy), 338, 353 Hall of Song, the, 298 Hamburg, 113, 136 Ham House, Richmond, 112 "Hamlet" (Booth as), 38, 142, 357, 358 (Fechter as), 311 (Hampden as), 371 Opera (Thomas), 187 (Sarah Bernhardt as), 291 Hamlet's Soliloquy (Shakespeare), 20 Hamlin, George (tenor), 368 Hammerstein, Oscar (impresario), 369 Hampden, Walter (actor), 371 Handel Festival (London), 58, 305 Handel, G. H. (composer), 47, 52, 124, 219, 228, 306, 350 Handelian Singer, 53, 54 Handel and Haydn Society, of Bos ton, 248 Hans Sachs (in "Die Meister- singer"), 58, 74, in, 123, 137, 139, 167 " Hansel und Gretel " (opera, Humperdinck), 181 "Hark! Hark! The Lark" (song), 338 Harley, Orlando (tenor), 132 "Harold" (opera, Frederick Cow- en), 1 66 Harris, Sir Augustus (impresario), 106, 107, 112-115, 1 86 Harris, Victor (teacher), 225 Harrold, Orville (tenor), 370 Hartford, 249 Harvard Club, 342 Harvard Stadium, 154 Haverford College (Penna.), 16, 18, 19, 20, 31, 33, 34, 241, 371 . Haverford Station, 31 Havergal, Frances Ridley (poet ess), 161, 163 Hay, John (ambassador), 304 Haydn, Michael (composer), 47, 52, 350 Haymarket Theatre, 140, 143 Hawkesley (in "Still Waters Run Deep"), 44 Hearst, Mrs. Phoebe, 284 Hearst, William Randolph, 284 "Heart Bowed Down, The" (song), 126 Hebbel (poet), 180 Hedmondt, E. C. (tenor), 123, 171, 172 Heine (poet), 205 Heinrich, Max (barytone), 31, 32, 33, 34, 47, 49, 52, 5$, 129, 299 11 He is Kind" (song), 350 "He Jests at Scars," 313 Henley, 259 Henschel, Georg (conductor), 55, 56, 103, 104, 128 Henschel, Mrs. Georg (singer), 129, 135, 164 Herald ("Agamemnon"), 155 Herbert, George (poet), 372 "Her Bitterest Foe" (play), Hereford, 173 "Hereward" (cantata, Prout), 159 Herford, Oliver (humorist), 99 Herkomer, Herman (artist), 101 Hero (in "Much Ado"), 294 Hertz, Alfred (conductor), 309 "Herodiade" (opera, Massenet), H5 Hester (in "The Scarlet Letter"), 222 "He, the Best of All" (song), 350 44 386 INDEX " Hiawatha " (cantata, Coleridge- Taylor), 288 "Hidalgo, The" (song), 350 Higbee, Miss Beulah, 16 Higbee, Miss Lill, 16 Higbee, Mrs. (friend), 16 Higginson, Colonel, 178 High Jinks, 364 Highland Poachers, Story of, 271 High Priest (in "Passion Music"), 52 Hill, Lady Arthur (composer), 82 Hill, Lucille (soprano), 100 Hinshaw, William Wade (impre sario), 369 Hofmann (composer), 159 Hoffmann (opera, "Tales of Hoff mann"), 370 Holbein Room, 268 Holman, Joseph (cellist), 82, 236 Holy Trinity Church (Philadel phia), 49 Homer, Madame Louise (con tralto), 266, 296, 301 "Home, Sweet Home" (song), 34 Honolulu, 364 Honorary Degree LL.D., 371 " Hora Novissima " (oratorio, Ho ratio Parker), 209 Horn (composer), 350 Hotaling, Richard, 354 "Hound of Heaven, The" (poem), 63 Housmann, Alfred Edward (poet), 333, 334 Housmann, Laurence (author), 332 Howard, Esme (diplomatist), 127 Howells, W. D. (author), 44 Howling Dervishes, 26 Hub, the, 248 Huddersfield, 174 Hudson River, 20 Hume (medium), 77 Humperdinck (composer), 181 Hunding (in "The Valkyrie," Wagner), 123, 252 Hungarian Gypsy tunes, 164 "Husband in Clover, A" (play), 44 Huss, Henry Holden (composer), 126, 226 Huxley, Prof. Thomas (scientist), Preface, 3, 72 Hyde, Walter (tenor), 333 Hyde Park Corner, 120 Hymn of Longing" (song), 322 "Hymn of Love" (song), 322 " Hymn of Praise, The " (cantata, Mendelssohn), 52 "Hymnus" (song), 291, 306 Hypnotism, 74, 75, 77 lago (in "Othello"), Verdi, 266, 295, 309 "I don't want to stay here no longer" (song), 295 " I know that my Redeemer liveth " (song), 371 Illinois, 339 " I Maestri Cantori " (opera, Wag ner), 137 " Impresario, The " (opera, Mo zart), 367, 369 "In a Balcony" (Browning), 271 "In Autumn" (song), 350 Indianapolis, 218, 226 Indians, 6, 325 "In Memoriam " (song cycle, Leh- mann), 290 "I Pagliacci" (opera, Leonca vallo), 139, 180 Ipswich, 85 Irate Hibernian, 314 Ireland, 117, 121, 144, 295 Irish Ditties, 121, 317 Irish Opera ("Shamus O'Brien," Stanford), 120 Irish Stories, 313 "Irish Symphony" (Stanford), 313 Irish, the, 313 Irving, Laurence, 155 Irving Place Theatre, 310 Irving, Sir Henry (actor), 62, 65, 142, 155, 178, 194, 207, 334, 335 As Mathias, 66 Isle of Wight, 151, 265 Isolde (Albani as), 182, 183 (Lehmann as), 58, 256 (Nordica as), 254 (Sucher as), 58 "Israel in Egypt" (oratorio, Han del), 52, 306 Italian, 136, 139, 182, 184, 207, 224, 296 Italian Cities, 23 Italians Critical, 69 Italian Government, 127 Italian Lakes, 64 INDEX 387 Italian Language, 112, 123 Italian Manner, 130 Italian Opera, 73, 295, 296, 313, 328 Italian Repertory, 285 Italian Riviera, 63 Italian School of Music, 68 Italian Selections, 134 Italian Singer, 267, 292 Italy, 22, 61, 62, 64-71, 88, 90, 127 " It is Better to Laugh" (song), 350 "Ivanhoe" (opera, Sullivan), 92, 106 "I've Been Roaming" (song), 350 James, Francis (artist), 77 James, Henry (author), 150, 151 Janotha, Mile, (pianist), 86, 90, 92 Janson, Agnes (singer), 164 Japanese Language, 123 Jarrow (monastery of), 10 Jastrow, Prof. (Shakespearean scholar), 127 Jay, Isabel (singer), 335 Jefferson, Joseph (actor), 326-328 Jefferson, Thomas (House of), 2 Jefferson, William (actor), 327 Jenkins (composer), 168 Jenkinson (in " Vicar of Wake- field"), 334 Jensen (composer), 320 Jeremy Crow (in " Meg's Diver sion "), 44 Joachim, Joseph (violinist), 30, 90, 125, 131, 144, 163, !79, 237, 288 "Joan; or, The Brigands of Blue- goria" (opera, Ford), 82 Job, Book of (drama), 371 "Job" (oratorio, Parry), 159 Johannes (in " Evangelimann "), 206 John Precentor, 10 Johns, Clayton (composer), 235 Johnson House, 7 Jones, Paul (artist), 343 Jones, Sir Lawrence, 153 "Joshua Fit de Battle of Jericho" (song), 295 Journet (basso), 207, 297 Juch, Emma (singer), 124 Judas (in "Passion Music"), 52 (in "The Apostles"), 311 "Judas Maccabaeus" (oratorio, Handel), 52 'Julius Caesar" (play, Shake speare), 41, 329 Quarrel scene of, 20, 98 Kaighn, Bartram (schoolmaster), 16, 17, 18 Kalisch, Paul (tenor), 303 Kansas, 253 Kansas City, 297, 299 Kappes, Mr. (Mendelssohn's friend), 341 Kaun, Hugo (composer), 228 Kean, Edmund (actor), 40, 261 Keats (poet), 359 Kellogg, Clara Louise (soprano), 30 Kembles, The (actors), 40, 261 Kensington Gore, 137, 146 Kensington Palace Gardens, 146 Kentucky, 293, 296 Kienzl (composer), 206 King, The (in "Lohengrin"), 250, 267 "King Arthur" (cantata, Purcell), 211, 253 King Edward VII, 305, 311 King George V, 268 " King Robert of Sicily " (poem, Longfellow), 280 "King Robert of Sicily" (recita tion, Rossetter Cole), 280 Kingston, Beatty (writer), 143 Kipling, Rudyard (poet), 230, 231, 236 Kitchener, Lord, 265 Klafsky, Katharina (soprano), 136 Klingsor (in "Parsifal"), 242 Kneisel String Quartette, 198, 285, 286 Knight of the Swan ("Lohen grin"), 182, 259 Kobbe, Gustave (writer), 53 Korbay, Franz (composer), 164 Korbay, Madame, 164 Korsakoff, Rimsky (composer), 228 Kraus, Ernst (tenor), 220, 222, 292 Krehbiel, Henry E. (music critic), 368 Kubelik (violinist), 286 Kundry (in "Parsifal"), 242 Kurwenal (in "Tristan and Isolde," Wagner), 111-115, 117, 145, 182, 183, 206 388 INDEX Ladies' Annual Gambol, 342 Lady Allcash (opera " Fra Dia- volo"), 165 Lady Chapel (Chester Cathedral), 22 "La Donna e mobile" (song), 24 " L'Af ricaine " (opera), 187 Laird of Skibo, 272 Lake District, 10, n Lake Michigan, 243 Lake Mohonk, 125 "Lakme" (opera), 265 Lamb, Charles, 261 Lambs' Club, 342 Lament of Amfortas (opera, "Parsifal"), 167 Lamperti, Francesco (teacher), 59, 69, 88, 122, 218 Lancashire, 10, n, 22, 140, 179 Land of Song, 24 Lander, Mr. (actor), 334 Landgrave (in " Tannhauser "), 172, 207, 241 Landi, Signorina (contralto), 180 Laniere (composer), 168 Lang, B. J. (conductor), 61 " L'Arlesienne " (drama), 310 La Scala Theatre, 121 " La Sonnambula " (opera, Bel lini), 83 Lassalle, Jean (barytone), 113, 123, 187 "La Traviata," opera, 187 Lawes, Henry (composer), 168 Lawes, William (composer), 168 Lawrenceville School, 3 Lawson, Corinne Moore (singer), 198 " Lay on, Macduff ! " 275 Leach (artist), 91 League of Nations, 121 "Le Cid" (opera), 187 Lee (General), 3 Leeds, 174 Leeds Choral Society, 174 Lehigh Valley Railway Co., 58 Lehmann, Lilli (soprano), 104, 191, 244, 256, 257, 258, 266, 303 Lehmann, Liza (singer-composer), 131, 146, 225, 250, 290, 332- 334 Lehmann, Marie (singer), 257, 258 Leighton (painter), 146 Lemoyne, Sarah (actress), 271 Lennox, Cosmo Gordon, 83 Leonato (in "Much Ado"), 294 Leoncavallo (composer), 119 " Les deux Grenadiers" (song), 103, 180 "Les Huguenots" (opera, Meyer beer), 124, 139, 183, 187 "Lesson in Love, A" (play), 44 " Let the Dreadful Engines " (Pur- cell), 168 Letter from Paderewski, 330, 331 Levitation, 77 Levy, Heniot (pianist), 358 Liberty Bell, 3 Liceo Musicale (Bologna), 68 Life Guards (officers of), 78 Lincoln, Abraham (President), 4, 6, 3i9, 320 Lincoln, Colonel Robert (Minister to England), 319, 320 Lincoln, "Tad," 319, 320 Lind, Jenny (soprano), 48, 205 Lippincott Family, 14 Liszt (composer), 104, 228, 302 "Little Lord Fauntleroy" (novel), 89 "Little Silver Ring, The" (song), 350 Litvinne, Madame (singer), 187 Liverpool, 10, 22, 83, 178, 212 Liverpool Orchestral Society, 177 Liverpool Philharmonic, 178 LL.D., Doctor of Laws, 371 Lloyd, Edward (tenor), 121, 287 Lloyd, Madame, 287 Lodge, Sir Oliver (scientist), 76, 116 Loeffler, Charles Martin (com poser), 338 Loewe, Carl (composer), 124, 158, 159, 190, 320, 344, 348, 350 Loge (in " Rheingold "), 250, 252, 309 "Lohengrin" (opera, Wagner), 129, 180, 182, 187, 221, 243, 249, 250, 259, 267, 296, 302, 303 London, 7, 22, 27, 55, 57, 59, 62, 63, 72, 75, 77, 78, 79, 82, 83, 90, 93, 100, 105, 108, no, 122, 124, 125, 127, 131, 134, 135, 140, 149, 150, 157, 164, 165, 166, *77> J 79, J 8o, 181, 183, 185, 190, 195, 198, 199, 200, 204, 205, 209, 212, 2l6, 217, 220, INDEX 389 225, 226, 235, 260, 265, 266, 286, 288, 289, 294, 295, 303, 304, 307, 309, 313, 333, 335, 336, 343 London Audiences, 107 London Directory, II London Times, 106, 118, 151 Longfellow (poet), 280, 287 Lord Allcash (in "Fra Diavolo"), 165, 182 Lord Dundreary, 166 "Lord is a Man of War, The" (duet, Handel), 53, 306 Lord Touchstone Pepper (in "A Reformer in Ruffles"), 44 Los Angeles, 283 "Lost Chord, The" (song), 184 Lotos Club, 323 Louisville, 293, 296 Lourdes, miracles of, 116 "Love Songs" (Brahms), 164 "Lov'st Thou for Beauty" (song), 350 "Lucia" (opera, Donizetti), 85, 187, 293 "Lucifer" (oratorio), 219 Lung*Arno, Florence, 72 Lutkin, Professor Peter C., 341 Lyceum Theatre (New York), 216, 368 4th Ave. and 24th St., 216 Lymington, 152 Lyric Club (London), 102 Lysiart, aria of ("Euryanthe"), 164 "Macbeth" (play, Shakespeare), 182 McClellan (General), 3 McCormack, John (tenor), 334 McCoy, Wm. J. (composer), 338, 353 McCullough, John (actor), 38 MacCunn, Hamish (conductor), 333 MacDonald, George (poet), 89 MacDowell, Edward A. (con ductor), 337, 338, 350 Maclntyre, Margaret (singer), 172, 229 Mackenzie, Sir Alexander (com poser), 75, 102, 119, 122, 131, 164 Macready (actor), 40 "Madame Butterfly" (opera, Puc cini), 123, 369 Madison Square, 133 Madison Square Theatre, 42 Madrigal Society, 48 Mad Scene (from "Lucia"), 293 Maeterlinck (author), 116 Magdalena (in "Evangelimann"), 206 "Magelone" (Brahms), 190, 204 Magna Charta, 14 "Magpies, The" (club), 102, 103, 106 Mahler, Gustav (conductor), 114, 321,358 "Maid as Mistress, The" (opera, Pergolesi), 368 "Maidens of Cadiz, The" (song), 350 Maine, 125, 354 Main Street (Moorestown), 7 Maitland, J. A. Fuller (critic), 1 06, 118 Mancinelli, Luigi (conductor), 180, 187,207, 267, 295 "Mandalay" (song), 230 "Manfred" (play, Byron), 323, 3H Manhattan Island, 274 Manhattan Opera House, 369 Manns, August (conductor), 58, 82, 124 "Manon" (opera, Massenet), 304 "Manru" (opera, Paderewski), 301, 302 Mansfield, Richard (actor), 328, 329, 330 Mantelli, Madame (singer), 184, 187, 193 "Manzoni," Requiem Mass (Verdi), 227 Marcello (in "Les Huguenots"), 183 Marchesi, Madame Blanche (singer), 236 "Marguerite at the Spinning Wheel" (song), 350 Marguerite de Valois (in "Les Huguenots"), 183 Mario, Signer (tenor), 83 Marius, Monsieur (comedian), 97, 98 390 INDEX Mark Antony (Speech of), 20 F. C. Bangs as, 41, 329, 330 "Marriage of Figaro, The" (op era, Mozart), 187 Mars, 323 Marschener (composer), 228 Marseilles, 27 "Martha" (opera, Flotow), 30 Martin, Riccardo (tenor), 369 Martin, Robert (playwright), 82 "Martyr of Antioch, The" (ora torio, Sullivan), 159 Mascagni (composer), 123 Massenet (composer), 145, 219, 304, 350 Master of the Gods, 208 Master of Skibo, 269 Master of the Queen's Musick, 171 Materna, Madame (singer), 191, 242, 243 Mathias (in "Evangelimann"), 206 Mattullath, Alice (translator), 368 "Maud" Song Cycle (Somervell), 290 Maurel, Victor (barytone), 115, 118,119,122,257,266,295 Maurice Grau Opera Company, 241 Mayer, Daniel (manager), 113 May Festival, Cincinnati, 343 "May Night" (song), 350 "Medicin Malgre Lui, Le" (play, Moliere), 369 "Mefistofele" (opera, Boito), 187 "Meg's Diversion" (play), 44 Meisslinger, Miss (singer), 182, 244 "Meistersinger, Die" (opera, Wagner), 58, ill, 113, 139, 144, 167, 173, 182, 187, 188, 260, 266 Melba, Nellie (soprano), 121, 183, 187, 191, 192, 220, 232, 254, 290, 293, 296 Melbourne (Australia), 365 Melodrama, 282 "Melusine" (opera, Hofmann), 159 Melvin, Honorable Henry A., 354 Mendelssohn, Felix (composer), 32, 52, 93, 147, 159, 160, 219, 310, 3ii,3i7,34i Mendelssohn Hall, 225, 232 Mendelssohn Scholarship, 59 Mephistopheles ("Faust"), 96, 113, 139,^45,313 Mercantile Library, 40 Meredith, George (novelist), 147, 148, 149, 150 Mersey River, 22 "Message, The" (song), 88 "Messiah, The" (oratorio, Han del), 52, 58, 88, 127,211, 219, 221, 232, 249, 250, 300, 318 Metropolitan Opera Company, 343 Metropolitan Opera House of New York, 132, 186, 187, 190, 193, 197, 218, 219, 232, 247, 251, 257, 260, 269, 289, 292, 301, 309, 310, 330, 369 Meyerbeer (composer), 350 Michael Angelo's "David," 65, 80, 271 Middle West, 132, 320, 362 "Midsummer Night's Dream, A" (music by Schumann), 153, 310, 337, 367 Pyramus, 153 Thisbe, 153 "Mignon" (opera, Thomas), 30, 369 Mikado's subjects, 123 Milan, 58, 59, 121, 122, 124 Millais (painter), 146 Miller, Ruth (singer), 370 Milton, John (reading from), 87 Milwaukee, 221 Mime (in "Siegfried"), 253, 309, 368 Minerva, 323 Minneapolis, 285 Minstrels, Christie, 295 "Missa Solemnis" (Beethoven), 219, 228 "Mock Doctor, The" (opera, Gou nod), 369 Modjeska, Madame Helena (ac tress), 330, 331 . Mohammedan Religion, 25 Moliere (dramatist), 369 Monckton, Paul (playwright), 83 INDEX 391 Monday "Pop." (concerts), 91, 125, 163, 179 Montholon, General, 153 Moor, The (in "Otello"), 295 Moore, George (author), 151 Moore, Tom (poet), 235, 344 Moorestown, 6, 15, 1 6, 17, 29, 38, 42 Moorestown (Episcopal Church), 28,31 Moorestown School, 16, 17, 18, 20 Moorish magician, 343 Morgan, J. Pierpont, Sr., 247 Morgan, Tali Esen (choral direc tor), 1 60 Morris, Major (U. S. A.), 16 Morris, William (poet), 158 "Mors et Vita" (oratorio, Gou nod) , 52 "Moses in Egypt" (oratorio, Ros sini), 52, 159 Moses (in "Vicar of Wakefield"), 334 Moss, Hugh (stage director), 97 Mother in England, My, 93, 94 Mottl, Felix (conductor), 134, 167, 206, 260 Moulton, Professor, 370 Mozart (composer), 51, 180, 228, 307, 350, 368 Mr. Babblebrook (in "A Lesson in Love"), 44 "Much Ado about Nothing" (opera, Stanford), 294 Muck, Doctor (conductor), 260, 262 Miihlmann, Adolf (singer), 267 Miiller, Hugo (playwright), 215 Miiller, Lieder (songs, Schubert), 204, 205, 247, 250 Miiller, Professor Max, 117, 205 Miiller, Wilhelm, 204, 205 Musical Art Society, 102 Musical Fund Hall, 48 Musical Mornings, 216 Myers, Professor F. W. (scientist), 76 "My Heart Ever Faithful" (song), 350 "My Pretty Jane" (song), 88 "Nadeshda" (opera, Goring Thomas), 105 "Nan, the Good-for-Nothing" (play), 44 Naples, 360 Napoleon, 153, 267 Narrator (in "The Redemption"), 52 Nashville, 221 Natchez, Tivadar (violinist), 120 Negro, 317 Negro Minstrels, Distaste for, 39 Negroes, 325 Neilson, Adelaide (actress), 38, 42 as Juliet, 41 as Viola, 41 Neilson, Robert and William (friends), 42, 43 Neruda, Madame Norman (pian ist), 125 Nevada, Madame Emma (singer), 265 "Nevermore," 281 New Amsterdam Theatre, 367 Newboldt, Henry (poet), 359 New England town, 312 New Jersey, 6 New Theatre, 327 New Thought, 76 New World, 145, 276, 278 New York, 42, 52, 61, 102, 125, 127, 132, 154, 187, 188, 201, 219, 232, 249, 284, 164, 186, 198, 199, 217, 218, 230, 231, 247, 260, 291, 248, 273, 295, 157, 189, 204, 209, 221, 238, 220, 233, 250, 285, 297, 300, 108, 160, 197, 212, 225, x 245 ' 256, 259, 290, 301, 289, 309, 311, 318, 322, 333, 335, 338, 342, 358, 364, 365, 366, 367, 368, 369, 370 New York College, 280 New York Symphony Orchestra, 323 New York Theatre, 342 New York Times, 367 New York Tribune, 368 Niagara Falls, 20 "Niebelungen Ring" (Wagner), 171, 222, 309 Niebelungen (story), 253 "Night Bell, The" (opera, Doni zetti), 368, 369 Nilsson, Christine (soprano), 36 "Noblest of Knights" (song), 350 Nordica, Lillian, 127, 129, 188, 189, 220, 232, 244, 247, 250, 254, 255, 256, 266, 267, 290, 292, 293,309,359,365 Norman Ancestors, 12 North America, 185, 315, 365 North American Indian, 317 Northwestern University, 339 392 INDEX Nova Scotia, 362 "Now your days of Philandering" (song), 350 Noyes, Alfred (poet), 367 Nuremburg, 173 Oberlander (tenor), 117 Oberlin College, 241 "Odysseus" (cantata, Bruch), 52 "O Ewigkeit" (cantata, Bach), 163 Offenbach, Jacques (composer), 42, 370 Offertorium, 68 Ohio, 286 Ohio Valley Exposition, 343 "Oh, Let Night Speak of Me" (song), 350 "Oh, My Lyre" (song), 350 "Oh, Rest in the Lord" (aria), 93 " Olaf Trygvasson" (song), 219 Old World, 176, 307 Olitzka, Rosa (contralto), 187, 290 Olivia ("Vicar of Wakefield"), 335 Olympus, 323 "Omnipotence" (song), 371 "On Wings of Music" (song), 3i7 Opera Comique, 81, 83, 304, 335 Opera in English, 30, 107 Opera, French, 107 German, 107 Italian, 107 Opera House (Blackpool), 140 Opp, Julie (actress), 216, 236 Orange, N. )., 249 " Oratorio, Opera Spoiled," 61 Oratorio Society (The Cecilian), 48 Oratorio Society of New York, 127, 221, 310, 324 Orchestra Concerts, Crystal Palace, 82 Order of Runnymede, 14 Oregon, 285 "Orfeo" (opera, Gluck), 124, 285 Ornstein, Leo (pianist), 358 Orpheus Club of Philadelphia, 47, 48, 49, 50, 196, 230, 337 "Orpheus with His Lute" (song), 350 Ortrud (in "Lohengrin"), 182, 343, 250, 256, 303 "O, Ruddier than the Cherry" (song), 350 Osborne House, 265 O'Sullivan, Dennis (singer), 165 Othello, Salvini as, 65, 295 Ottokar (in " Der Freischutz"), 136 Ouida, Madame (novelist), 66, 67, 105 Overland Express, 362 Oxford, 134, 154, 158 Oxford Street, 80 Oxford University, 117, 135, 178 Pacific Coast, 233, 283, 284, 290, 338, 356, 362 Paderewski, Ignace (pianist), 301, 302,^330, 331 Paganini (violinist), 30 "Pagliacci, I" (opera, Leonca vallo), 118 Pagliano Theatre, 68 Palace Theatre of Varieties, 97 Palestrina's High Mass, 127, 128 Pallisser, Esther (soprano), 100, 117, 300 Palmer, Lady, 149, 286 Palmer, Sir Walter, 286 Pandolfo, Doctor (in "Maid as Mistress"), 368 "Paoletta" (opera, Floridia), 343 "Paradise and Peri" (cantata, Schumann), 219, 228 Paris, 23, 27, 58, 108, 198, 266, 277, .304, 335 Paris, Wagner in, 103 Parisian production, 206 Park Theatre (New York), 369 Parker, Horatio W. (composer), 119, 209, 337, 359 "Parlor Car, The" (play, W. D. Howells), 44 Parratt, Sir Walter (conductor), 171, 265 Parrish, Miss Elinor (author), 43 Parry, Sir Hubert (composer), 119, 159, 287 "Parsifal" (music drama, Wag ner), 127, 167, 206, 219, 228, 241, 310 Passion Music ("Messiah," Han del), 88 INDEX 393 Passion Music, St. John (oratorio, Bach), 180 Passion Music, St. Matthew (ora torio, Bach), 52, 131, 163, 180, 286 Patmore, Coventry (poet), 152 Patti, Adelina (soprano), 48, 169, 170, 171 "Paul et Virginie" (opera), 34 Paur, Emil (conductor), 221, 291 Peabody Institute, 342 Peace Concert, 305 Peace Conference, 302 " Peasants, The (Bauern) Can tata " (Bach), 145 Pearse, Mrs. Godfrey, 83 Peile, Kinsey (playwright), 83 " Pelleas and Melisande " (opera, Debussy), 306 Pendleton, Elliott, 43 Penn Club (Philadelphia), 65 Pennshawken Creek (New Jersey), 6 Pennsylvania, 3 Pennsylvania Railroad, 19, 31 Penn, William, 6, n Penn's Surveyor (Skull), 12 Pergola Theatre (Florence), 69 Pergolesi (composer), 368 "Per questa bella mano " (song), 1 80 "Persian Garden, In a" (song cycle, Liza Lehmann), 225 Peter (opera, "Hansel and Gre- tel"), 181 Peter (in "Passion Music"), 52 Pevny, Olga (singer), 241 Philadelphia, i, 6, n, 15, 16, 22, 27, 29, 39, 45, 48, 50, 53, 57, 58, 59, 62, 65, 126, 161, 196, 217, 219, 221, 227, 243, 248, 249, 276, 293, 337, 367 Philadelphia, Map of, by Nicholas Skull, 12 Philadelphia Orchestra, 311, 358 Philadelphia Public, 39 "Philemon and Baucis" (opera, Gounod), 135, 139, 187 Philharmonic Orchestra of New York, 157, 190, 291, 322, 337, 358 Philharmonic Society (London), 134, 164, 1 80 Phrenologist story, 80, 81 Piano, 28 Piano Concerto, 337 Piatti, Signor (cellist), 90, 180 "Pied Piper of Hamelin, The" (Browning), music by Bergh, 281 Pigeon (in "Golden Haired Ger trude"), 44 " Pilgers Morgenlied" (song), 291, 306 Pilgrims, The (Dramatic Society, Germantown), 43 Pinero, Arthur (playwright), 150 Pini, Corsi (singer), 166 "Pirate Song, The" (song), 350 Pittsburgh, 274 Pizarro (in "Fidelio"), 136 Plains of Lombardy, 64 Planchette Story, 110-116, 121, 295 Plangon, Pol (singer), 137, 183, 184, 187, 193, 232, 245, 292, 294 Players, The (club), 326, 328 "Pluie et le Beau Temps, La" (Gozlan), 293 Plumptree, 337 "Plus grand dans son Obscurite " (song), 265 Poe, Edgar Allan (poet), 280, 281, 338 Poet Laureate, 90, 151 "Poet's Love" (song cycle, Schu mann), 205 Pogner (in "Die Meistersinger "), 137 Pohlig, Carl (conductor), 358 Polish singers, 129, 182 Ponchielli (composer), 228 Pope Leo XIII, 127, 128 Pope's Choir (St. Peter's), 24 Portland, 285 "Portrait of Dorian Gray, The" (novel), 150 Possart, Ernst (actor), 280, 324 "Postal Card, The" (play, W. D. Howells), 44 Powell, Arthur (composer), 338 Power, Sir George (singer), 83 Powers, Ada Weigel (composer), 358 Powers, Hiram (sculptor), 327 Poynter (painter), 146 Premier of Poland, 302 Press Club, 155 394 INDEX Primrose, Mrs. (in "The Vicar of Wakefield"), 334 Prince Arthur (story of), 103 Prince Consort, 171 Prince of Darkness, 96 Princess Christian, 102 Princess Louise, 102 Prince of Wales, 103, 165, 169, 184, 265, 268 Prince and Princess of Wales, 173 Princeton University, 3, 16, 230 Prologue (opera "I Pagliacci"), 37 1 "Prospice" (song), 158, 243 Prout (composer), 159 Proridence, 322 Puccini (composer), 369 Puck, 362 Punch (magazine), 91 Purcell (composer), 124, 168, 2x1, 35 Pyne, Minton (organist), 51 Quakers, 2, 3, n, 15, 19, 22, 25, 34 Quakerism, 73, 152 Quaker ancestors, 54, 76 Quaker City, 65, 219 Quaker meeting, 39, 93, 268, 286 Quartettes (Brahms), 164 Queen Alexandra, 90, 295, 305 Queen Victoria, 85, 90, 102, 120, 171, 173, 213, 214, 265, 267, 268, 295 Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee, 170, 264 Queen's Hall, 88, 131, 134 Queenstown, 212 Quince, 183 Rachmaninoff (composer), 350 Radleigh College, 154 Randegger, Alberto (teacher), 102, 106, 120 " Rantzau, I" (opera, Mascagni), 123 Raven, The (Poe), Bergh's setting, 280, 281, 338, 339 Ravogli, Julia (contralto), 124, 139 Recoschewitz, Madame (singer), 172 Redding, Jos. D. (author), 341, 360, 361 "Redemption, The" (oratorio, Gounod), 52, 131, 1 60, 219, 302 Reeves, Sims (tenor), 83-88, 90, 121 Reeves, Mrs. Sims, 85 "Reformer in Ruffles, A" (play), 44 Reger, Max (composer), 307 " Reine de Saba, La" (opera, Gou nod), 265 Reiss, Albert (tenor), 296, 309, 368, 369 Remenyi (Hungarian violinist), 30 Renaud, Maurice (barytone), 266 "Requiem" (Brahms), 287 "Requiem" (Verdi), 159, 302 Resolution, To Act and to Sing, 25 Restoration Period, 29 " Reverend Mr. Bispham, The," 99 Revolutionary times, 271 "Rheingold, The" (opera, Wag ner), 112, 167, 250, 253, 302 Rhine, 251 Rice, Wallace (author), Preface Richings-Bernard Opera Co., 30 Richmond, 112 Richter, Hans (conductor), 134, 144, 167, 171, 178, 190, 191, 209, 211, 212, 286, 288, 358 Richter, Mrs., 212 Ricordi (publishers), 121 Riddle, George (elocutionist), 155, 280 "Rigoletto" (opera, Verdi), 187, 266 "Ring, The" (cycle of music dramas, Wagner), 244, 250, 258 Ristori, Madame (actress), 38, 40 Rochester, 285, 286 Rocky Mountains, 297 Rodewald, Alfred (patron), 178 Rodick's Hotel (Bar Harbor, Maine), 43 Roman Catholic Cathedral, 33 Roman Catholic Practices, 28, 128, 152 Roman Church, Music of, 24, 49 Romanticists, 348 Rome, 24, 58, 127, 128, 154, 248, 276, 327 "Romeo and Juliet" (comic opera, Charles C. Soule), 45 "Romeo and Juliet" (opera, Gou nod), 187, 292 Ronalds, Mrs., 96 INDEX 395 Roosevelt, Theodore (President), 283, 305, 317, 318, 319 Roosevelt, Mrs. Theodore, 283, 317 Root, Geo. F. (song writer), 65 Rosenfeld, Sydney (playwright), 368 Ross, Betsy (House of), 2 Rossini, G. (composer), 52, 69, 120, 159, 302 Royal Academy of Music, 75 Royal Albert Hall, 131, 146 Royal Amateur Orchestral Associ ation, 103 Royal Carl Rosa English Grand Opera Co., 106, 171 Royal College of Music, 55, 287, 334 Royal English Opera House, 81, 92, 97, 98, 106 Royal Institution, 122 Royal Italian Opera, The, 171 Royal Opera, Berlin, 32, 108, 286 Royal Opera, Covent Garden, 117, J 35 Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, 225 Rudbeck, Baron, no, in Rudolf (in "Der Wald"), 303 Runciman, John (critic), 163 Runnymede, Order of, 14 Russell, Ella (soprano), 305 St. Botolph Club, 199 St. Clement's Church, 51 "St. Elizabeth" (oratorio, Liszt), 302 "St. Francis" (oratorio, Tinel), 159 St. Giles (Cathedral), 144 St. Helena, 153 St. James's Hall, 84, 90, 125, 135, 164, 179, 185, 205, 235, 306 St. James's Theatre, 150 St. John Passion (oratorio, Bach), 1 80 St. John's Church, 35 St. John's Day, 173 St. Louis, 221 St. Mark's Church, 28, 51, 59 St. Martin's Lane (Friends meet ing), 93 St. Matthew Passion (oratorio, Bach), Judas, Peter, High Priest, Christ, 52, 131, 163, 180, 286 St. Paul, 285 St. Paul (First Corinthians), 345 " St. Paul " (oratorio, Mendels sohn), 52 St. Peter the Apostle, Church of, 10 St. Peter's, 127, 128 St. Peter's (Pope's Choir), 24 Sachs, Hans (in " Meistersinger "), 266 Safonoff, Wassili (conductor), 337 Sailors' Home, 232 Saint Gaudens, Augustus (sculp tor), 326 Saint-Saens (composer), 145, 228 Sala Filarmonica, 68 Salem County, 6 Salignac (tenor), 187, 220, 244, 292, 296 "Sally in Our Alley" (song), 84 Salvini, Tomaso (actor), 65 "Samson" (oratorio, Handel), 52 " Samson et Delila " (opera, Saint- Saens), 145 San Bris (in "Les Huguenots"), 183 San Francisco, 339, 353, 360, 362, 364, 366 San Remo (Italy), 88 Santissima Annunziata (Florence), 68 Santley, Sir Charles (barytone), 30, 53, 121, 145, 305 Santo Spiritp (Florence), 68 Santuzza (in " Cavalleria Rusti- cana"), 166 " Sardanapalus " (play, Byron), 41 F. C. Bangs as, 41 Sargent, John S. (painter), 66, 146, J 54 Saroya, Bianca (singer), 369 Sat. "Pop." (concerts), 179 Saturday Review, 163 Sauer, Emil (pianist), 157, 163 Sauret, Emil (violinist), 120 Savage, Henry W. (manager), 310 Savoy Theatre, 82, 94-96, 334 Scalchi, Sophia (contralto), 285 Scarlatti (composer), 350 "Scarlet Letter, The" (opera, Damrosch), 222 Schalk (conductor), 241 " Schauspiel Direktor, Der " (op era, Mozart), 368 396 INDEX Scheff, Fritzi (singer), 297, 301, 321 Scheidemantel (barytone), 266 Scheldt River, 259 Schelling, Prof. (Shakespearean scholar), 127 Schiller (author), 291 Schillings, Max (composer), 281 Scholastic work, 18 "School for Scandal" (scene from), 44 Schubert, Franz (composer), 29, 32, 51, 124, 134, 158, 159, 179, 190, 204, 205, 214, 219, 226, 228, 235, 247, 250, 320, 338, 341, 344, 348, 3 50, 37i Schumann, Clara (pianist), 350 Schumann-Heink, Madame (con tralto), 129, 206, 208, 243, 250, 254, 266, 267, 290, 293, 296, 309, 34i, 364 Schumann, Robert (composer), 32, 103, 124, 134, 135, 180, 226, 228, 235, 320, 323, 344, 348, 349, 350 Schumann, Paul (stage manager), 260 Scotch ballads, 159 Scotch soprano, 369 Scotch stories, 87, 88 Scot, 269 Scotia, 269, 276 Scotland, 87, 144, 265, 269, 270 Scots Guards Band, 84 Scott, Cyril (composer), 350 Scott (poet), 344 Scotti, Antonio (barytone), 295 Scottish orchestra, 128 Scull, David (grandfather), 7, 17 Scull, David (uncle), 8, 21 Scull, Edward (uncle), 8 Scull Family, 6, 12, 14 Scull, Gideon (uncle), 8 Scull, Jane Lippincott (mother), 2 "Sea, The" (song), 350 Seargent Sulpice (in "Daughter of the Regiment"), 369 "Seasons, The" (oratorio, Haydn), 52 "Secrecy" (song), 350 Seguin, Zelda (alto), 30 Seidl, Anton (conductor), 187, 190, 191, 208, 216, 217, 221, 358 Sembrich, Marcella (soprano), 88, 218, 244, 254, 255, 296, 301 Senta (in "Flying Dutchman"), 264 Seppilli, Armando (conductor), 118, 119 Sermon on the Mount, 355 " Serva Padrona, La" (opera, Per- golesi), 368 "Seven Ages of Man" (Shake speare), 20 "Seven Ages of Man" (song, Huss), 126, 226 Seventh Regiment Armory (New York), 52 Shaftesbury Avenue, 92 Shakespeare (poet), 20, 60, 89, 126, 127, 142, 143, 153, 235, 270, 275, 294, 310, 313, 337, 344, 3 6 7 Shakespeare Day, 367 Shakespeare, William (teacher- tenor), 59, 60, 6 1, 69, 74, 92, 120, 135, 164, 236 Shakespeareana (Furness Collec tion), 45 Shakespeare Travesty ("Romeo and Juliet"), 45 " Shamus O'Brien " (opera, Stan ford), 1 20 Sharman, Percy (violinist), 86 Sharpless, Isaac (President Haver- ford College), 371 Shaw, George Bernard (author), 117, 163 Sheffield Festival, 305 Shelley, Harry Rowe (composer), 180, 235, 338 Sheridan (General), 3 Sherman (General), 3 Sherwin, Amy (soprano), 86 " She Stoops to Conquer " (play, Goldsmith), 258 Shoreham Hotel, 255 "Should He Upbraid" (song), 350 "Shropshire Lad, The" (poem), 333 Shubert Brothers (managers), 333, 335 Sickert, Walter (painter), 151 Sidgwick (Professor), 76 "Siegfried" (opera, Wagner), 123, 187, 249, 250, 253, 302 Jean de Reszke as, 191, 192, 250, 292 Siegmund (in "Valkyrie"), 252 INDEX 397 Sieglinde (in "Valkyrie"), 252, 256, 309 Sierra Leone, 289 "Signa" (opera, Cowen), 105 Silva, Margerita (singer), 369 Simpson Auditorium, 283 Sindaco, of Florence, 69 Sir Bloomfield Brambleton (in "Who's Who"), 44 Sir Charles Seymour ("A Cup of Tea"), 44 Sir Peter Teazle ("School for Scandal "), 44 Sistine Chapel, 128 "Sixty-Six" (opera, Offenbach), 45 Skeneateles Color, 15 Skibo Castle, 269 Skibo Estate, 274 Skinner, Otis (actor), 271 Skull (or Scull), 12 Skull, Nicholas (Penn's Surveyor), "Sleep, then, Ah Sleep" (song), 350 Smetana (composer), 228 Smith, Harold (pianist), 325 Smythe, Ethel M. (composer), 303 Sociables, 31 Society of American Singers (Opera Co.), 368, 369 Society of Friends, 2 Society for Psychical Research, 76 Sola Virtus Invicta (Bispham Coat of Arms), 9 "Solo Pianist" (Janotha), 86 Somervell, Arthur (composer), 119, 290 " Song of Hiawatha " (cantata, Coleridge-Taylor), 287 " Songs of the Mill " (cycle by Schubert), 204, 205 "Songs of the Sea" (songs), 359 Sonoma County, 353 Sophia (in "Vicar of Wakefield"), 334 "Sophocles," 154, 310, 337 "Sorcerer, The" (opera, Gilbert and Sullivan), 44 South African War, 305 Southampton, 152 Southern Negro Melodies, 317 Southern States, 362 Southport (Eng.), 178 Spain, 286 Spaniard, 292 Spaniards, 123 " Spectre's Bride, The " (cantata, Dvorak), 287 Spencer, Herbert (author), 147 Spiering, Theodore (conductor), 293 Spirit of Flame, 253 " Spirit, The," 154 Spiritualistic Seances, 76-81 "Spirituals" (American negro), 348 Spirit Voices, 324 Spofforth (composer), 87 Spong, Hilda (actress), 217, 285 Springfield, 125 Squier, William Barclay (libra rian), 106 Squire Thornhill (in " Vicar of Wakefield"), 3 33, 334 " Stabat Mater" (oratorio, Ros sini), 52, 69, 302 Staple Inn, 145 Stanford, Sir Charles Villiers (composer), 82, 117, 119, 127, 133-137, 163, 288, 294, 313, 359 Stanley, Professor Albert A., 226 Stars and Stripes, 2 State Concert (Buckingham Pal ace), 169, 171, 184 State House, 3 Steersman, The (in "Odysseus"), 52 Stehle (composer), 219 Steinert, Morris (collector), 217 Stein, Gertrude May (singer), 209 Stengel, Doctor Sembrich, 255, 256 Sterling, Antoinette (contralto), 93 Stevenson, Robt. Louis (author), 356 Stewart, Sir Robert (conductor), 117 "Still Waters Run Deep" (play), 44 Stock Exchange, 245 Stock, Frederick (conductor), 281 Stoker, Bram (manager), 334 Stokes, Emma (great-aunt), 28 Stokes Family, 14 Stoll, William, Jr. (conductor), 161, 163 398 INDEX " Stonebreaker's Song, The," Strauss, 350 " Stormfield," 341 Story of British Spy, 271 Story of Broadway Managers, 271 Story of Carreno, 337 Story of De Pachmann, 332 Story of " Flying Dutchman," 260- 264 Story of Highland Poachers, 273 Story of Joseph Jefferson, 326, 327 Story of Modjeska, 331 Story of President Lincoln, 319 Stories of Richard Mansfield, 328- 330 Story of Saint Gaudens, 326, 327 Story of Richard Strauss, 321-322 Story, Roosevelt at White House, 3i7 Stradivarius, 286 Strauss, Richard (composer), 280, 291, 302, 306, 320, 321, 322, 323, 348 Strong, Susan (singer), 208 Studebaker Theatre, 293 " Student's Companion, The," 16 Sturgis, Julian (author), 294 Sucher, Rosa (soprano), 58 Sullivan, Sir Arthur (composer), 43, 92, 94, 96, 97, ioo, 159, 174, 334, 335, 350 Sullivan, Barry (actor), 40 Sunday School Concerts, 31 Sunset Magazine, 353 Supreme Court,of Calif., 354 "Swan and the Skylark, The" (cantata, Thomas), 159 "Sweethearts" (play, Gilbert), 43 Swinburne (poet), 302 Switzerland, 23, 72 Sydney (Australia), 364, 365 Symphony Concerts for Young People, 311 Symphony Hall, 336 Symphony No. 5 (Beethoven), 228 Symphony Orchestra (Cincinnati), 343 Tadema, Alma (painter), 146 Taft, William H. (President), 318, 319 "Tales of Hoffmann" (opera, Of fenbach), 370 Tamagno (tenor), 69, 292, 295 Tannhauser (opera, Wagner), in, 136, 172, 187, 206, 241, 244, 260 Tannhauser (in "Tannhauser"), 207 Tarkington, Booth, 230 " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay " (song) , 328 Teck Theatre, 321 "Te Deum" (Berlioz), 159 "Telemaque," 17 Telramund (in "Lohengrin"), 180, 182, 206, 208, 221, 249, 267 Temple, Richard (actor), 334 Temple unto Thespis, 276 Tennyson, Alfred Lord, 90, 151, 280, 290, 306, 316, 358 Tennyson, Hallam, 90 Tennyson, Lady, 90 Tercentenary of Dublin University, 117 Ternina, Madame Milka (so prano), 291 Terry, Ellen (actress), 148, 149, i94, i95, 286 Teutonic, 129, 251 Teutonic composers, 344 Texas, 325 Teyte, Maggie (soprano), 369 Thames River, 12, 259 "That Lass o' Lowrie's " (novel), 89 Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, 106 Theodorus the Strenuous, 276 Theodore Thomas Orchestra, 341 Thirty N. 7th St. (birthplace), 2 Thomas, Ambroise (composer), 369 Thomas, Goring (composer), 105, "9, 159 Thomas, Theodore (conductor), 29, 52, 125, 228, 285 Tinel (composer), 159 Tiresias (in "Agamemnon"), 155 Tite Street, 150 Titjens, Madame (singer), 35 "To Florindo" (song), 350 "Tom Bowling" (song), 84 Tommy Atkins, 357 "Tom the Rhymer" (song), 159 Tonio (in "I Pagliacci"), 118, 139 "To Parents and Guardians" (play), 42 INDEX 399 Toreador (in "Carmen"), 124, 139 Tosti, F. Paolo (composer), 120 Tosti, Madame, 120 "To the Distant Beloved" (song), 179, 204 "The Toys" (poem), 152 "La Traviata" (opera, Verdi), 187 Tree, Sir Herbert Beerbohm (ac tor), 8, 140, 142, 143, 367 "Trial by Jury" (opera, Gilbert and Sullivan), 44 Trilogy (Wagner), 250 "Tristan and Isolde" (opera, Wagner), in, 114, 117, 187, 244, 249, 260, 291, 292, 303 Tristan, 145 Jean de Reszke as, 182 Edouard de Reszke (as King), 182 Madame Albini (as Isolde), 182, i3 "Trovatore, II" (opera, Verdi), 187 Troy, 250 Tschaikowsky (composer), 108 Tuckey, Doctor (friend), 74, 76 Turkish Music r 25 Twain, Mark (author), 15, 341, 342 "Twelfth Night" (play, Shake speare), 208 Twelfth Street Meeting House, Philadelphia, School at, 15 "Two Grenadiers, The" (song, Schumann), 49, 103, 312 Ulana (in "Manru"), 301 Uncle Rome (poem), 356 United Kingdom, 133 United States, n, 60, 197, 204, 210, 224, 225, 230, 241, 243, 249, 288, 313, 315, 323, 327, 330, .358, 359, 365 United States Naval Academy, 132 University Club (St. Louis), 45 University of California, 338 University of Dublin, 117 University of Michigan, 226 University Musical Club (Oxford), 134 University of Pennsylvania, 42 Urok (in "Manru"), 301 Utopia, 279 Valentine (in "Faust"), 139 Valentina (in "Les Huguenots"), 183 "Valkyrie, The" (opera, Wagner), 112, 123, 144, 167, 172, 192, 208, 252, 260, 293 Vancouver, 357 Vanderdecken (in "The Flying Dutchman," Wagner), 121, 262, 264 Van der Stucken (conductor), 226, 324, 325 Van Dyck Beard, My, 99 Van Dyck, Ernst (tenor), 167, 206, 207, 208, 241, 243, 247, 250, 252, 290, 292, 296, 309 Vannuccini, Maestro (teacher), 61, 68, 69 Van Rooy, Anton (barytone), 244, 247, 250, 266, 309 Variorum Shakespeare (Furness), 45 Vassar College, 241 Venerable Bede, The (monk), 10, ii " Venetian Lion, The," 295 Venice, 23, 24, 66, 118 Venus, 323 Venus de Milo, 161 Venus (in "Tannhauser"), 172, 241 Venusberg ("Tannhauser"), 172 Verdi, Giuseppe (composer), 24, III, 115, 121, 122, 143, 159, 227, 295, 301, 302, 350 Verona, 23, 307 Vezin, Herman (actor), 97, 98, 180, 181 "Vicar of Wakefield, The" (opera, Liza Lehmann), 306, 332, 335, 336, 343 "Vicar, The" ("Vicar of Wake- field"), 335 Vienna, Court Opera, 321 Viennese actor, 215 Villa Wahnfried (Wagner's), 104 Vine Street Hall, 31 Violetta (in "Traviata"), 254 Virginia, n Vitam Impendere Vero (Scull Coat of Arms), 13 400 INDEX Voice trials, Savoy Theatre, 94-96 Von Biilow (pianist, conductor), 104, 105 Vulcan, 323 Vulcan (in "Philemon and Bau cis"), 135, 139 "Wachet Auf " (cantata, Bach), 163 Wagner family, 104 Wagner, Madame Cosima (Wag ner's wife), 104, 129, 130, 190, 191, 303, 358 Wagner, Richard (composer), 74, 103, 104, 105, in, 112, 115, 121, 127, 134, 171, 172, 180, l82, 187, 190, 206, 222, 228, 26l, 263, 264, 291, 301, 302, 309, 341, 350 Wagner, Siegfried (son), 134, 167 Wagner Society, 112, 228 Wagnerian Concerts, 134 Interpreters, 144 Operas, 136, 272 Selections, 283, 339, 358 Singer, 303 Wagnerian music dramas, 218, 220, 328 Waistcoat Story, 312 "Wald, Der" (opera, Smythe), 303 Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, 216 Waleen, Baron, no Walker, Ernest (musician), 117, 158 Walker, Stuart (actor-manager), 370 Wall Street, 246 Wallingford, 45 Walnut Street Theatre, 38, 39 "Walpurgis Night" (cantata, Mendelssohn), 159 Walter, the Musician, 277 Walther (in " Meistersinger"), 113, 123, 137 Waltraute (in " Rheingold "), 309 Wanamaker's Store, 322 "Wanderer, The" (song), 350 Wanderer, The, 247, 250 Wanderer, The (in "Siegfried"), 191 Wartburg ("Tannhauser "), 172 Warwickshire family, 61 Washington, D. C., 221, 254, 318 Washington, George (General and President), 50, 305 Waterloo Bridge, 98 Waterloo Chamber, 267 Waters (Philadelphian), 161, 163 Watts, Frederick C. (painter), 146, 148, 149 "Weak Woman" (play), 441 Weber (composer), 164, 228 '"Wedding Song" (song), 159 Weeden, Mrs. Howard (poetess), 356 Weingartner, Felix (conductor), 321 Weld, Doctor (clergyman), 28 Wells College, 241 Welsh enthusiast, 160 Welsh tenor, 290 "Were We Hypnotized?" Article, 77 " Werther " (opera, Massenet), 187 Wesley, S. S. (organist), 51 West Indies, n Westminster Town Hall, 76 Wetzler, Herman H. (composer), 197, 290 Wheeler, Benjamin Ide (Univ. of Cal.), 339 "When I Was a Page" (song), 350 When other hearts (song), 84 Whiffen, Mrs. (actress), 216 Whistler (painter), 146 White House, 283, 317, 318 White, Stanford (architect), 273 Whiting, Arthur (musician), 247 Whitman, Walt (poet), 15, 50, 198 Whitney, Myron (basso), 53, 54, 56 "Who is Sylvia?" (song), 214 "Who's Who" (play), 44 "Why do the nations" (song), 312 Wiegand (basso), 123 Wigan, 10 Wilde, Oscar (author), 149, 150, i54, 358 Wildenbruch (author), 281 Wilhelmj, Auguste (violinist), 120 William the Conqueror, 10 William the Conqueror (in opera "Harold"), 166 Williams, Evan (tenor), 209, 290 William Tell Overture, 29 Wilson, George, 125 Wilson, Miss Margaret, 319 INDEX 401 Wilson, Woodrow (President), 121, 318, 319 Wimbledon, 334 Windsor Castle, 171, 267 Winnipeg, 285 "Winter Journey, The" (song cycle, Schubert), 205 Winter, William (dramatic critic), 367 Wister, Mrs. Caspar (authoress), "Witch's Song, The" (Wilden- bruch), 281 Witherspoon, Herbert (singer), 368 Wolcot, Charles (actor), 42, 43 Wolcot, Mrs. Charles (actress), 216 Wolff, Hugo (composer), 306, 320, 350 Wolf, Johannes (violinist), 82, 120, 236 Wolfram (in " Tannhauser "), in, 112, 115, 136, 139, 172, 180, 206, 241, 297, 298 "Woman's Love and Life" (song cycle, Schumann), 205, 349 Wood, Henry (conductor), 305 " Woodman, Spare that Tree " (poem), 16 Wool Business, Engaged in, 21 Woolson, Constance Fennimore (novelist), 65 Worcester Cathedral, 209 Concerts, 209 England, 173 Festival of the Three Choirs, 209 Massachusetts, 209, 212 World's Columbian Exposition, 125 Workingmen's Club, 43 Wotan (in "Valkyrie"), Wagner, 112, 172, 1 80, 192, 206, 208, 250, 260, 293, 309 Wotan's Farewell, 167 Wright, Mrs. Theodore (actress), -i? 34 miner, Wiillner, Dr. Ludwig (singer), 129 Yankee Doodle (song), 78, 317 Yarnall, Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, 33, 34 Young America Cricket Club, 45 Ysaye (violinist), 221, 282 "Zampa" (opera, Herold), 30 Zerlina (in " Fra Diavolo"), 166 Zermatt, 23 Zither, Lessons on, 28, 31 FEINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA RETURN TO the circulation desk ot any University ot California Library or to the NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY Bldg. 400, Richmond Field Station University ot California Richmond, CA 94804-4698 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 2-month loans may be renewed by calling (510)642-6753 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books to NRLF Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date. DUE AS STAMPED BELOW SEP 2 9 1999 12,000(11/95) N9 545578 MLU20 Bispham, D.S. BU8 A Quaker singer f s 1921 recollections. LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS