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Title: The Mapleson Memoirs, vol II
       1848-1888

Author: James H. Mapleson

Release Date: May 24, 2011 [EBook #36144]

Language: English

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THE MAPLESON MEMOIRS

VOL. II.

THE MAPLESON MEMOIRS

1848-1888

IN TWO VOLUMES

WITH PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR

VOL II

CHICAGO, NEW YORK, AND SAN FRANCISCO
BELFORD, CLARKE & CO.,
PUBLISHERS.
1888
[All rights reserved].

COPYRIGHT, 1888, by
JAMES H. MAPLESON

TROW'S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
NEW YORK.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I

SHORTLY after my return to London I had various meetings with the Directors of the Royal Italian Opera Company, Limited, when, to my astonishment, they informed me they would not ratify the contract I had made with Mdme. Patti. In fact, they repudiated the engagement altogether, although it had been concluded by me conjointly with Mr. Ernest Gye, the General Manager of the Company. I was therefore left with about £15,000 worth of authorized contracts which the Company had made with other artists, in addition to Mdme. Patti's contract for 250,000 dollars (£50,000).

I represented to the Directors that the only way to get out of the difficulty was to release me entirely from all connection with the Company, as I could then carry out the contracts I had made in the name of myself and of their representative with Mdme. Patti and with several other artists.

The matter, however, ended by the Directors giving me my congé, refusing at the same time to pay me any of the money that was then owing to me.

I had now seriously to consider my position, which was this: I had parted with my lease of Her Majesty's Theatre to the Royal Italian Opera Company, Ltd., a lease for which I had paid Lord Dudley £30,000. I had parted with a large quantity of scenery and dresses, of which a full inventory was attached to my agreement, and which were valued at many thousands of pounds. In addition to this, during my absence in America, Her Majesty's Theatre had been entirely dismantled and many thousand pounds worth of property not in the inventory taken and removed to Covent Garden. The amount of salary owing to me was absolutely refused. My £10,000 worth of shares (being the consideration for the purchase) I could not obtain; and the Company further gave me notice that I owed them some £10,000 for losses incurred whilst in America.

In fact, all I had left to me was my liability for the £50,000 payable to Mdme. Patti, and for over £15,000 on the authorized contracts made with other artists on behalf of the Company; whilst on the other side of the ocean I should have to face Abbey's new Metropolitan Opera-house, for which all the seats had been sold, and the following artists engaged—all with but one or two exceptions taken from me:—Mdme. Christine Nilsson, Mdlle. Valleria, Mdme. Sembrich, Mdme. Scalchi, Mdme. Trebelli, Signor Campanini, etc., etc. My scene painter had been tampered with and taken away, together with many of the leading orchestral performers and the chorus—indeed, the whole Company, even to the call-boy.

Despite obstacles of all kinds, I felt happy at being rid of the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden, and I set vigorously to work to complete the company with a view to the operatic battle which was to be fought the following autumn in New York.

During the month of June I was fortunate enough to conclude an engagement with Mdme. Etelka Gerster, also with Mdme. Pappenheim, who was a great favourite in America. For my contraltos I engaged Miss Josephine Yorke, and also Mdlle. Vianelli. Galassi, my principal baritone of the previous years, remained with me, despite the large offers that had been made to him by Abbey.

Prior to the commencement of my season, I found on perusing Mr. Abbey's list the names of Signor Del Puente, of Mdme. Lablache, of my stage-manager, Mr. Parry, and a good many of the choristers, all of whom were under formal engagement to me.

It is true I did not care much for the services of these people, but I could not allow them to defy me by breaking their contracts. I consequently applied for an injunction against each, which was duly granted, restraining them from giving their services in any other place than where by writing I directed. Arguments were heard the following day before Judge O'Gorman, on my motion to confirm the injunction which I had obtained against Signor Del Puente and Mdme. Lablache, who were announced to sing the opening night at the new Metropolitan Opera House. The injunction, as in the case of all operatic injunctions, was ultimately dissolved by the Court, and I agreed to accept a payment from Del Puente of 15,000 francs, Mr. Parry and the choristers being at the same time handed over to me.

Shortly after my arrival in New York I was honoured with a serenade in which no less than five hundred musicians took part. The sight alone was a remarkable one. I was at my hotel, on the point of going to bed, when suddenly I heard beneath my window a loud burst of music. The immense orchestra had taken possession of the street. The musicians were all in evening dress; they had brought their music stands with them, also electric or calcium lights; and, as I have before said, they occupied the road in front of the hotel.

I was extremely gratified, and when after the performance I went down into the street to thank the conductor, I begged that he would allow me to make a donation of £100 towards the funds of the Musical Protective Union. But he would not hear of such a thing, and was so earnest on the subject that I felt sorry at having in a moment of impulse ventured upon such an offer.

The Musical Protective Union is an association extending over the whole of the United States, to which all the capable instrumental players of the country belong. There may be, and probably are, a very few who stand outside it; and I remember that Mr. Abbey, unwilling to be bound by its rules, resolved to do without it altogether, and to import his musicians from abroad. Soon, however, this determination placed him in a very awkward predicament: his first oboe fell ill, and for some time it was found impossible to replace him.

I have nothing but good to say of the Musical Union. The very slight disagreement which I once had with those of its members who played in my orchestra was arranged as soon as we had an opportunity of talking the matter over. If I have every reason to be satisfied with the Musical Union, I can equally say that this Association showed itself well content with me.

While on the subject of American orchestras, I may add that their excellence is scarcely suspected by English amateurs. In England we have certainly an abundance of good orchestral players, but we have not so many musical centres; and, above all, we have not in London what New York has long possessed, a permanent orchestra of high merit under a first-rate conductor. Our orchestras in London are nearly always "scratch" affairs. The players are brought together anyhow, and not one of our concert societies gives more than eight concerts in the course of the year. Being paid so much a performance, our piece-work musicians make a great fuss about attending rehearsals; and they are always ready, if they can make a few shillings profit by it, to have themselves replaced by substitutes.

All really good orchestras must from the nature of the case be permanent ones, composed of players in receipt of regular salaries. Attendance at rehearsals is then taken as a matter of course, and no question of replacement by substitutes can be raised. The only English orchestra in which the conditions essential to a perfect ensemble are to be found is the Manchester orchestra conducted by Sir Charles Hallé.

A larger and better orchestra than the excellent one of Sir Charles Hallé is that of M. Lamoureux.

Better even than the orchestra of M. Lamoureux is that of M. Colonne. But I have no hesitation in saying that M. Colonne's orchestra is surpassed in fineness and fulness of tone, as also in force and delicacy of expression, by the American orchestra of 150 players conducted by Mr. Theodore Thomas. The members of this orchestra are for the most part Germans, and the eminent conductor is himself, by race at least, a German. Putting aside, however, all question of nationality, I simply say that the orchestra directed by Mr. Theodore Thomas is the best I am acquainted with; and its high merit is due in a great measure to the permanence of the body. Its members work together habitually and constantly; they take rehearsals as part of their regular work; and they look to their occupation as players in the Theodore Thomas orchestra as their sole source of income. As for substitutes, Mr. Thomas would no more accept one than a military commander would accept substitutes among his officers.

There has from time to time been some talk of Mr. Theodore Thomas's unrivalled orchestra paying a visit to London, where its presence, apart from all question of the musical delight it would afford, would show our public what a good orchestra is, and our musical societies how a good orchestra ought to be formed and maintained.

Before taking leave of Mr. Theodore Thomas and of American orchestras generally, let me mention one remarkable peculiarity in connection with them. So penetrated are they with the spirit of equality that no one player in an orchestra is allowed to receive more than another; the first violin and the big drum are, in this respect, on precisely the same footing. In England we give so much to a first clarinet and something less to a second clarinet, and a leader will always receive extra terms. In America one player is held to be, in a pecuniary point of view, as good as another.

My season at the Academy commenced on the 22nd October—the same night as my rival's at the New Metropolitan Opera, to which subscriptions had been extended on a most liberal scale. In fact the whole of New York flocked there, as much to see the new building as to hear the performance.

On my opening night I presented La Sonnambula, when Mdme. Etelka Gerster, after an absence of two years, renewed her triumphs in America. The rival house presented Gounod's Faust, with Christine Nilsson as "Margherita," Scalchi as "Siebel," Novara as "Mephistopheles," Del Puente as "Valentine," and Campanini as "Faust;" a fine cast and perfectly trained, since all these artists had played under my direction and did not even require a rehearsal. After a few nights I began to discover that the counter attraction of the new house was telling considerably against me, and I informed the Academy Directors of my inability to contend against my rival with any degree of success, unless I could have a small amount of backing.

After consultation, several stockholders signed a paper, each for a different amount, which totalled up to something like £4,500, which I had previously calculated would be about the amount required to defeat the enemy. This was guaranteed by them to the Bank of the Metropolis on the understanding that I should never draw more than £600 a week from it, and then only in case of need.

The Manager of the rival Opera-house had fired off all his guns the first night; and after a few evenings, as soon as the public had seen the interior of the new building, the receipts gradually began to decline. In the meanwhile, I was anxiously expecting notice of Adelina Patti's approaching arrival. I, therefore, arranged to charter sixteen large tug boats, covered with bunting, to meet the Diva; eight of them to steam up the bay on each side of the arriving steamer, and to toot off their steam whistles all the way along, accompanied by military bands. All was in readiness, and I was only waiting for a telegraphic notification. Some of the pilots at Sandy Hook, moreover, had promised to improvise a salute of twenty-one guns; and Arditi had written a Cantata for the occasion, which the chorus were to sing immediately on Patti's arrival.

By some unfortunate mistake, either from fog or otherwise, the steamer passed Fire Island and landed la Diva unobserved at the dock, where there was not even a carriage to meet her. She got hustled by the crowd, and eventually reached her hotel with difficulty in a four-wheeler. The military bands had passed the night awaiting the signal which I was to give them to board the tugs.

On learning of Mdme. Patti's arrival, I hurried up to the Windsor Hotel, when I was at once received.

"Is it not too bad?" she exclaimed, with a comical expression of annoyance. "It is a wonder that I was not left till now on the steamer. As it was, by the merest chance one of my friends happened to come down to the dock and luckily espied me as I was wandering about trying to keep my feet warm, and assisted me into a four-wheeler. However, here I am. It is all over now, and I am quite comfortable and as happy as though twenty boats had come down to meet me."

She then agreed to make her début three days afterwards in La Gazza Ladra.

On the second night of the opera we had a brilliant audience for Rigoletto, Mdme. Gerster undertaking the part of "Gilda," which she sang with rare delicacy and brilliancy of vocalization, so that "Brava's!" rang throughout the entire audience.

My new tenor, Bertini, who likewise made his début on this occasion, produced but little effect, either vocally or dramatically. In the "La Donna è Mobile" he cracked on each of the high notes, whilst in the "Bella Figlia" quartet his voice broke in a most distressing manner when ascending to the B flat, causing loud laughter amongst the audience.

I was therefore under the necessity of sending him the following letter the next morning:—

Of course he did not return my thousand dollars, but fell into the hands of some attorneys, who at once issued process against me for 50,000 dollars damages!

While admitting that at the time I engaged him he was a good singer, I maintained that latterly, from some cause or other, his voice had utterly gone. I had engaged him to perform certain duties which he was unable to fulfil.

His lawyers insisted upon his having another opportunity. This I at once agreed to; but not before the public, for whom I had too much respect to inflict another dose of Bertini upon them. I therefore offered him the empty house, full orchestra and chorus, and a jury half of his own selection and half of mine, with the Judge of one of the Superior Courts as umpire; but this he refused. The matter, therefore, went into the usual groove of protracted law proceedings and consequent annoyances and attachments. The very next day all my banking account was attached, and it was two days before I could get bondsmen in order that it might be released, so that I could continue to pay my salaries to the other artists.

On the following night we performed Norma at Brooklyn, with Mdme. Pappenheim as the Druid priestess; the night afterwards being reserved for the début of Mdme. Patti at New York in La Gazza Ladra. The occasion naturally drew together an immense audience, which displayed much enthusiasm for the singer. The pleasure of hearing Mdme. Patti again was increased by the fact that the work in which she was to appear was not a hackneyed one.

The opera, however, failed to make the effect I expected, being generally pronounced by the Press and the public to be too antiquated. The contralto who undertook the rôle of "Pippo" was excessively nervous, having had no rehearsals and never having met Patti before.

One daily paper said that the lesser rôles were well taken, down to the stuffed magpie, who flew down and seized the spoon, and sailed away into the flies with prodigious success, adding: "La Gazza Ladra will soon be laid permanently on the shelf. It is many years since it was done here before, and from a judgment of last evening, it will be many years before the experiment will be repeated."

Some time before this, a gentleman called on me. I was about to put him off, saying I was too busy; but he seemed so earnest for a few moments' conversation that I turned round, and on his raising his hat and loosening his overcoat, discovered him to be a priest. On his mentioning to me that Mdlle. Titiens had done service formerly for a church in Ireland with which he was connected, I at once gave him every attention. He explained that the small parish then under his charge was in great want, whilst the church had a debt of some £700 or £800. All he solicited was one of my singers, for whom he would pay the sum I might demand.

I at once told him that I would aid his charity to the best of my ability, and further, that on the appointed day, which happened to be St. Cecilia's Day, the 24th November, I would place some of my leading singers at his disposal for the high mass, and would, moreover, hold the plate myself at the church door to receive any offerings that might be made. After meeting him once or twice, I promised to take still further interest in relieving the Church of its difficulties by giving an evening concert in addition at the Steinway Hall, placing my best artists at his disposal, together with the whole of my chorus, and full orchestra under Arditi's direction, likewise my wonderful child pianist, Mdlle. Jeanne Douste.

In due course the following announcement was made regarding the concerts I had promised:—

In due course the day of the Feast of St. Cecilia arrived, which was most appropriately celebrated at St. Cecilia's Church, Harlem, some considerable distance "up town." There was no charge for admission, but I held the plate at the door, and everyone who entered gave something according to his means or inclination, a most handsome sum being thus collected. Father Flattery occasionally showed himself near my plate exhorting the incoming congregation to give liberally.

The service was conducted by Father Peyten, of St. Agnes' Church. Father Flattery did not preach a regular sermon, but confined his remarks to the life and character of St. Cecilia. "In venerating this saint," said he, "we intensify our love of God. St. Cecilia stands conspicuous in the noble choir as one of the typical saints. In studying her life we are carried back to the dark days of the Cæsars. More than St. Peter himself this noble lady sacrificed when she left all and devoted herself to God. Peter was but a poor fisherman, and left but his nets and boats; she was a noble lady of conspicuous distinction. Hers was no common origin, hers no ordinary name; but she relinquished all this social prestige for her religion. What wonder that she should be so popular among Christians when she is everywhere recognized as the patroness of the loveliest of arts, an art which lives beyond the bounds of time and can never die! Like the immortal souls of men, there is nothing destructive about music. It is music which illustrates the relation between art and religion. How much the art of music adds to the profound mystery of religion! How in the hour of exalted triumph it chants its pæans! The Festival of St. Cecilia is a festival of music; and music becomes more beautiful still when it is emblemized through such a life as that of this saint. Enviable is that professional art which has such a saint for its patron." At the close of his sermon Father Flattery expressed his own and the sincere thanks of the congregation to the manager and his artists who in their generosity had done so much for the cause of religion; and he expressed the hope that "when Colonel Mapleson ends his days St. Cecilia may come down to bear him up to Heaven."

At the conclusion of the service a sumptuous breakfast was served at Father Flattery's, to which some 200 guests were invited. Afterwards some speeches were made and thanks tendered to me for what I had done. The ladies present handed me, moreover, a set of studs and sleeve-links.

We afterwards drove down to the Steinway Hall to attend the evening concert (for the breakfast had lasted some time), which was crowded to the very doors. The receipts taken in the morning at the Church, coupled with those of the Steinway concert completely extinguished the debt which had weighed so heavily on St. Cecilia's Church.

About a year afterwards I was in New York, and having one afternoon (strangely enough) a little leisure, I determined to pay a visit to my excellent friend, Father Flattery. It was a Sunday afternoon, and when I got to his house, at some little distance from the central quarters of New York, I found him teaching a number of school children. As soon, however, as he saw me he struck work and his young pupils were dismissed to their homes.

I told Father Flattery that I had come to pay him a short visit.

"Nothing of the kind," he replied, in his frank, genial manner; "you have come to dine with me, and you are just in the nick of time. Dinner will be ready very soon; and I hope you have brought a good appetite with you."

My hospitable friend left me for a minute to give some orders; and while he was away one of his servants whispered to me that dinner was just over, and that there was nothing in the house.

I was too discreet to take any notice of this communication, and when the good priest returned I saw from his manner that he would take no refusal, and that whether there was anything in the house or not, whether he had already dined or not, I was to stay that afternoon to dinner.

After a certain delay, guests arrived, including some very charming ladies; and in due time dinner was served. It was quite an Homeric feast. Three roast turkeys were followed by two legs of mutton, and these, again, by four roast ducks. The wines were of the finest quality, and among those of French growth the vintages of Heidsieck and of Pommery Greno were not forgotten.

No one but Father Flattery could have improvised such a banquet at a moment's notice; and I afterwards found that in order to be agreeable to me, and to express his gratitude for a slight service which I had most willingly rendered him, he had requisitioned viands, wines, and guests from the houses of his neighbours.

"I want that turkey, Pat; I should like to have that leg of mutton, Mike; Murphy, send me round those ducks you have on the table." In this summary fashion my amiable and generous host had furnished the feast; or it may be that in summoning his guests he recommended them to bring their dinner with them. I can only speak with absolute certainty as to the result, and I must add that the banquet was thoroughly successful. After the dinner was at an end we had whisky-toddy and Irish songs.

CHAPTER II.

NOTWITHSTANDING the successful performances, which I continued to give, the receipts never reached the amount of the expenditure—as is invariably the case when two Opera-houses are contending in the same city.

So bent was Mr. Abbey on my total annihilation that in each town I intended visiting during the tour at the close of the season I found his company announced. I, therefore, resolved as far as possible to steal a march upon him. I altered most of my arrangements, anticipating my Philadelphia engagement by five weeks, and opening on the 18th December. Mdme. Patti appeared in Ernani to a 10,000-dollar house, Mdme. Gerster performing "Linda" the following night to almost equally large receipts. Semiramide likewise brought a very large house. From Philadelphia we went to Boston, where, unfortunately, the booking was not at all great, it not being our usual time for visiting that city. Moreover, I had to go to the Globe Theatre. On the second night of our engagement we performed La Traviata. That afternoon, about two o'clock, Patti's agent called upon me to receive the 5,000 dollars for her services that evening. I was at low water just then, and inquiring at the booking-office found that I was £200 short. All I could offer Signor Franchi was the trifle of £800 as a payment on account.

The agent declined the money, and formally announced to me that my contract with Mdme. Patti was at an end. I accepted the inevitable, consoling myself with the reflection that, besides other good artists in my company, I had now £800 to go on with.

Two hours afterwards Signor Franchi reappeared.

"I cannot understand," he said, "how it is you get on so well with prime donne, and especially with Mdme. Patti. You are a marvellous man, and a fortunate one, too, I may add. Mdme. Patti does not wish to break her engagement with you, as she certainly would have done with anyone else under the circumstances. Give me the £800 and she will make every preparation for going on to the stage. She empowers me to tell you that she will be at the theatre in good time for the beginning of the opera, and that she will be ready dressed in the costume of "Violetta," with the exception only of the shoes. You can let her have the balance when the doors open and the money comes in from the outside public; and directly she receives it she will put her shoes on and at the proper moment make her appearance on the stage." I thereupon handed him the £800 I had already in hand as the result of subscriptions in advance. "I congratulate you on your good luck," said Signor Franchi as he departed with the money in his pocket.

After the opening of the doors I had another visit from Signor Franchi. By this time an extra sum of £160 had come in. I handed it to my benevolent friend, and begged him to carry it without delay to the obliging prima donna, who, having received £960, might, I thought, be induced to complete her toilette pending the arrival of the £40 balance.

Nor was I altogether wrong in my hopeful anticipations. With a beaming face Signor Franchi came back and communicated to me the joyful intelligence that Mdme. Patti had got one shoe on. "Send her the £40," he added, "and she will put on the other."

Ultimately the other shoe was got on; but not, of course, until the last £40 had been paid. Then Mdme. Patti, her face radiant with benignant smiles, went on to the stage; and the opera already begun was continued brilliantly until the end.

Mdme. Adelina Patti is beyond doubt the most successful singer who ever lived. Vocalists as gifted, as accomplished as she might be named, but no one ever approached her in the art of obtaining from a manager the greatest possible sum he could by any possibility contrive to pay. Mdlle. Titiens was comparatively careless on points of this kind; Signor Mario equally so.

I am certainly saying very little when I advance the proposition that Mdme. Patti has frequently exacted what I will content myself with describing as extreme terms. She has, indeed, gone beyond this, for I find from my tables of expenditure for the New York season of 1883 that, after paying Mdme. Patti her thousand pounds, and distributing a few hundreds among the other members of the company, I had only from 22 to 23 dollars per night left on the average for myself.

Mdme. Patti's fees—just twenty times what was thought ample by Signor Mario and by Mdlle. Titiens, than whom no greater artists have lived in our time—was payable to Mdme. Patti at two o'clock on the day of representation.

From Boston we went to Montreal, opening there on Christmas Eve, operatically the worst day in the year; when Mdme. Gerster's receipts for La Sonnambula were very light. We afterwards performed Elisir d'Amore, and on Friday, the 4th January, Mdme. Patti made her début before as bad a house as Gerster's.

Soon afterwards the most money-making of prime donne was, without being aware of it at the time, seized for debt. It happened in this manner. From Boston we had travelled to Montreal, where, by the way, through the mistake of an agent, gallery seats were charged at the rate of five dollars instead of one. On reaching the Montreal railway station we were met by a demand on the part of the railway company for 300 dollars. The train had been already paid for; but this was a special charge for sending the Patti travelling car along the line. I, of course, resisted the claim, and the more energetically inasmuch as I had not 300 dollars in hand. I could only get the money by going up to the theatre and taking it from the receipts.

Meanwhile the sheriffs were upon me; and the Patti travelling car, with Adelina asleep inside, was attached, seized, and ultimately shunted into a stable, of which the iron gates were firmly closed.

There was no room for argument or delay. All I had to do was to get the money; and hurrying to the theatre I at once procured it. Unconscious of her imprisoned condition, Mdme. Patti was still asleep when I took the necessary steps for rescuing from bondage the car which held her.

The public of Montreal, more gracious than the railway authorities, received us with enthusiasm. An immense ice palace was erected just opposite the hotel at which we were staying; and the architecture of the building, and especially the manner in which the blocks of ice were placed one above the other and then soldered together, interested me much. The ice blocks were consolidated by the agency of heat. Hot water was applied to the points of contact, and the ice thus liquefied left to freeze.

We afterwards returned to New York, performing there the first three weeks of January, business still being very light indeed; and it was not until my benefit night, on the 18th, that a fine house was secured, when over 11,000 dollars were taken. After giving a Sunday concert we left for Philadelphia, where I arranged for three special performances, it being three days before Mr. Abbey's arrival there with his Opera troupe. The three performances were extremely successful. We afterwards left for Baltimore.

On arriving there Mdme. Gerster accidentally saw a playbill in which Mdme. Patti's name was larger than hers; further, that they were charging only five dollars for her appearance, whilst they demanded seven dollars for the Patti nights. Without one moment's warning, and unbeknown even to her husband, the lady went to the station and entered the train for New York. When dinner-time arrived Dr. Gardini was in a great state, as his wife was nowhere to be found, and it was by mere accident one of the chorus told me that he had seen her going in the direction of the railway station.

I thereupon telegraphed to Wilmington—the first station at which her train would stop—requesting her to return, as all matters had been arranged. There was no train by which she could get back. But through the kindness of the manager of the road, who happened to be in Baltimore, a telegraphic despatch was sent to Wilmington to detain the express—in which unfortunately Patti happened to be seated—until the arrival of Gerster's train, so that she could return immediately in time for the performance. I afterwards learned that Mdme. Patti, on inquiring the cause of the delay, was excessively angry at being detained for upwards of three-quarters of an hour on account of Mdme. Gerster. Nicolini was enraged for a different reason. He had ordered a sumptuous dinner at our hotel, where there was a new chef; and he knew that, having to wait for Mdme. Patti, his terrapin and his canvas-back duck would be spoiled.

All endeavours to induce Mdme. Gerster to enter a train in which the state-room was occupied by Mdme. Patti were useless, and I afterwards received a telegram that she had gone on to New York.

I thereupon put up the following announcement at the opening of the doors, not wishing to make a scandal:—"Owing to the non-arrival of Mdme. Gerster from New York she will be unable to appear this evening. The opera of Ernani will be substituted. Money will be returned to those desiring it."

In a short time the entire Opera was closely packed with ladies in full evening dress. All were in a high state of excitement, and seemed unable to decide what to do, whether to go into the theatre or take their carriages and return home. The ladies shrugged their shoulders, and the gentlemen gesticulated indignantly, looking at me as if they would like to say something forcible but impolite. "Outrage!" "disgrace!" "shameful!" and other excited utterances born of polite anger were heard on all sides. About one-third of the indignant ones left the theatre, whilst the balance remained to hear Ernani, which was exceedingly well played. Two minutes after the curtain rose on Ernani I hurried down to the railway station and entered the train for New York in quest of the fugitive prima donna. As I had eaten nothing from early morn I was placed in a very disagreeable position. I could not get even a glass of water or a piece of bread until some six or seven o'clock the next morning.

On reaching New York I went in quest of Mdme. Gerster at all the likely places, and at length discovered her at her brother's. It took the whole of the day to get things into shape, and I succeeded towards night in bringing back the truant, and inducing her to appear the following day, at a matinée, in L'Elisir d'Amore, when she attracted an enormous audience.

I was placed in great difficulty with regard to the public and the press, knowing that the reports would be greatly exaggerated, and injure the business in all the other cities to which we were going. I thereupon circulated the news that Mdme. Gerster's baby in New York had taken a cold in its stomach, and that she had been hurriedly sent for. This got repeated during the next four or five weeks in the papers at all the cities we visited, and afterwards gradually died out.

Before leaving Baltimore I had a bill presented to me for return of money in consequence of the Gerster disappointment as follows:—

Legal proceedings were resorted to, but I ultimately settled the matter by giving a private box for our next visit.

On arriving at Chicago we found ourselves not only in the same town with our rivals, but also in the same hotel.

Such a galaxy of talent had never before been congregated together under one roof. The ladies consisted of Adelina Patti, Etelka Gerster, Christine Nilsson, Fursch-Madi, Sembrich, Trebelli, and Scalchi, whose rooms were all along the same corridor.

It was here that our great battle began; and I have much satisfaction in quoting the following account of the conflict from a leading journal:—

"The Mapleson season opened with a brilliant house on Monday evening. The opera and cast were not very strong for an opening night, but Patti's name proves a drawing card on all occasions, and she was given a flattering reception as she once more presented herself to Chicago. Crispino is not a strong opera, the music being of the lightest order. She was finely supported by the other artists. Mdme. Etelka Gerster as 'Adina' was very charming; she appeared the following evening in Elisir d'Amore. At the rival house Ponchielli's La Gioconda attracted a large but not a crowded audience on the opening night. Both Opera Companies continued vigorously throughout the week, giving a series of the finest performances. The palm must readily be awarded to Mr. Mapleson's able management, as Mr. Abbey closed probably the worst-managed opera season Chicago had ever had. It opened amidst a flourish of trumpets, which heralded great conquests, but the results did not justify the reports."

I must now mention that when I organized the first Cincinnati Festival I stipulated with the Directors, in case of any repetitions, that the terms should be the same, and that I should have the sole control. The three preceding Festivals had been given under my direction, with distinguished success, and with large profits. But I now found that here, too, Mr. Abbey had stepped in and secured the great Festival for himself. It was useless going to law with a body of directors. I, therefore, trusted to injustice meeting with its own reward, as it inevitably does. I could illustrate this by many hundreds of cases.

I now hastened to conclude engagements for another Opera Festival at Mr. Fennessy's elegant theatre—one of the most beautiful in Cincinnati—in order that Mr. Abbey might not have the whole affair to himself.

The sale of seats for my contemplated performances at Cincinnati the following week opened grandly, no less than 235 seats being sold for the whole series quite early in the day. The number had increased before the close of the office to 653, the total sale realizing £6,000 (30,000 dollars). Bills were duly posted announcing for the opening night Meyerbeer's Huguenots, with Nicolini as "Raoul," Galassi as "St. Bris," Sivori as "Nevers," Cherubini as "Marcel," Josephine Yorke as "The Page," Etelka Gerster as "The Queen," and Patti as "Valentine." This, it seemed to me, was presenting a bold front against anything Mr. Abbey might produce.

About this time grave rumours got into circulation with regard to Mr. Abbey's losses. It oozed out that prior to the entry of his Company into Cincinnati he had dropped on the road some 53,000 dollars.

The Abbey Company opened their season at Chicago with Gioconda. But the tenor was bad, and the principal female part quite unsuited to Mdme. Christine Nilsson, so that little or no effect was made. I opened with Crispino, Adelina Patti appearing in the principal rôle; which was followed by L'Elisir d'Amore, with Gerster. On the third night Les Huguenots was performed, with Mdme. Patti as "Valentine," and Mdme. Gerster as the "Queen," when the following scene occurred:—

Prior to the commencement of the opera numbers of very costly bouquets and lofty set pieces had been sent into the vestibule according to custom for Mdme. Patti, whilst only a small basket of flowers had been received for presentation to Mdme. Gerster. Under ordinary circumstances it is the duty of the prima donna's agent to notify to the stall-keepers, or ushers, as they are called in America, the right moment for handing up the bouquets on to the stage. That evening Mdme. Patti's agent was absent, and at the close of the first act, during which "Valentine" has scarcely a note to sing, whilst the "Queen" has much brilliant music to execute, he was nowhere to be found. There was a general call at the close of the act for the seven principal artists. At that moment the stall-ushers, having no one to direct their movements, rushed frantically down the leading aisles with their innumerable bouquets and set pieces, passing them across to Arditi, who sometimes could scarcely lift them. Reading the address on the card attached to each offering, he continued passing the flowers to Mdme. Patti. This lasted several minutes, the public meanwhile getting impatient.

At length, when these elaborate presentations to Mdme. Patti had been brought to an end, a humble little basket addressed to Mdme. Gerster was passed up, upon which the whole house broke out into ringing cheers, which continued some minutes. This contretemps had the effect of seriously annoying Mdme. Patti, who, at the termination of the opera, made a vow that she would never again perform in the same work with Mdme. Gerster.

Mdme. Patti had braced herself up sufficiently to go through the performance in very dramatic style. But after the fall of the curtain, when she had time to think of the ludicrous position in which she had been placed, she became hysterical.

On returning to her hotel she threw herself on to the ground and kicked and struggled in such a manner that it was only with the greatest difficulty she could be got to bed. The stupidity of the "ushers" seemed to her so outrageous that she could scarcely accept it as sufficient explanation of the folly committed in sending up her bouquets, her baskets, and her floral devices of various kinds at the wrong moment. At one time when she was in a comedy vein, she would exclaim: "It is all that Mapleson;" and she actually did me the honour to say that I had arranged the scene in order to lower her value in the eyes of the public, and secure her for future performances at reduced rates.

Then she would take a serious, not to say tragic view of the matter, and attribute the misadventure to the maleficent influence of Gerster. The amiable Etelka possessed, according to her brilliant but superstitious rival, the evil eye; and after the affair of the bouquets no misfortune great or small happened, but it was attributed by Mdme. Patti to the malignant spirit animating Mdme. Gerster. If anything went wrong, from a false note in the orchestra to an earthquake, it was always, according to the divine Adelina, caused by Gerster and her "evil eye." "Gerster!" was her first exclamation when she found the earth shaking beneath her at San Francisco.

Far from endeavouring to cure her of her childish superstitions, Nicolini encouraged her, and, in all probability, took part himself in her quaint delusions.

Whenever Gerster's name was mentioned, whenever her presence was in any way suggested, Mdme. Patti made with her fingers the horn which is supposed to counteract or avert the effect of the evil eye; and once, when the two rivals were staying at the same hotel, Mdme. Patti, passing in the dark the room occupied by Mdme. Gerster, extended her first and fourth fingers in the direction of the supposed sorceress; when she found herself nearly tapping upon the forehead of Mdme. Gerster's husband, Dr. Gardini, who, at that moment, was putting his boots out before going to bed.

Two days before the close of the Chicago engagement grave rumours reached me from Cincinnati, where we were due the following Monday. Great floods had set in, and the water was still rising daily, and, indeed, hourly.

I received frequent telegraphic reports as to the sad effects of the flood, and I at last found it necessary to postpone our departure until the following day, hoping the water might then begin to recede.

On learning the state of things Mdme. Patti refused absolutely to enter the train now in readiness, and several of the other artists followed her example. The water still kept rising, and it at last reached the extraordinary height of 64 feet.

Cincinnati, I learned, was placed in total darkness through the gas works being submerged. The inhabitants were compelled to burn candles and oil lamps in order to obtain light, whilst the city was isolated from every other part of America. I was, moreover, informed by the railway authorities there was great uncertainty as to the train ever being able to reach the city at all. No Festival could possibly be given where such utter desolation existed; where the public was so far removed from everything festive.

I therefore telegraphed Manager Fennessy to postpone my week's visit until the 31st of the following month, and I now saw no alternative but to stay at Chicago, though I had no engagements whatever, and had all the people on my hands. On conversing with Mdme. Patti and Mdme. Gerster I found that they both sympathized with the sufferers from this sad calamity. I therefore decided that in lieu of attempting to get money out of the ill-fated city, it was our duty to raise funds and transmit them to the sufferers as speedily as possible. With that view I organized a morning performance in all haste at Chicago, in which both Mdme. Patti and Mdme. Gerster took part. The public accorded the most generous support. Henry Irving, who was staying in our hotel, gave £20 for a box with his usual characteristic liberality; and I had the pleasure of remitting the very next day to the Mayor of Cincinnati upwards of £1,200.

In order to keep the band and chorus employed, I arranged to perform for three nights at Minneapolis, which, although a considerable distance off, I determined to try. I therefore ordered my special train to be in readiness for our departure.

We opened at Minneapolis during the latter part of the week, giving the three performances to excellent business. Whilst there I heard fresh reports as to Abbey's losses, both at the Metropolitan Opera-house, and likewise on his tour.

On taking up the newspapers I found it stated that Mr. Abbey had lost nearly 239,000 dollars, and that he was, in fact, compelled to retire from his management.

Although Mr. Abbey had treated me anything but handsomely, I felt some regret at hearing of the downfall of this not very clever showman. It was a struggle between money and ability, his object being to put me out of the way, so that his new enterprise might have no opposition to encounter. My singers, musicians, and employés had been hired away from me at double, treble, and quadruple salaries. From Nilsson down to the call-boy, all had been tempted, and many led away. When my people came in to me and said: "What shall I do? he is offering me four times my salary," I replied: "My dear people, go by all means; you are sure to come back to me next season."

I had myself run very close to the wind throughout all this business, and but for great care and some judgment should have been ruined.

After the morning performance which closed our engagement at Minneapolis, our special train had to travel for 36 hours to reach St. Louis, where we opened on the following Monday.

There was great excitement at St. Louis about the performance of Les Huguenots, announced for the Thursday following, in which Patti and Gerster were to appear together in their respective parts. But in consequence of Mdme. Patti's declaration that she would never sing with Gerster again in any opera, I had to change the bill, much to the annoyance of the public and to my own loss.

I will now mention something that occurred during the latter part of my visit to St. Louis.

Finding business not so flourishing as it would have been but for this irritating rivalry of Abbey's, also that Mdme. Patti's engagement included only fifty guaranteed nights during the five months over which the engagement extended, I concluded to give her a rest of some three or four weeks, inasmuch as she had already sung nearly two-thirds of the guaranteed number of times, and I had ample time to work out the remainder. I also resolved to start the Company far away out of the reach of Mr. Abbey to the wealthy San Francisco. Our exchequer was sadly in need of replenishment. Mdme. Gerster consented to remain with me, but only on condition that Mdme. Patti kept away. Finding this suited my purpose, I agreed to it.

CHAPTER III.

AT the conclusion of the farewell morning performance of Martha, in which Gerster took part, at St. Louis, she went home to prepare for the journey to San Francisco. I performed La Favorita that evening, and gave orders for the Company to start at 2 a.m. for the Far West. At about a quarter to one my agent called me, stating that Mdme. Gerster had gone to bed and refused to allow her boxes to leave the hotel. Feeling now that she was free from Patti, she thought she could do as she liked. All arguments were useless, and in lieu of packing the boxes she gave calm directions to her maids to hang her dresses up. During this time the special train was waiting in the station ready to take its departure. In the midst of my trouble a little card was brought in enclosed in an envelope, stating that Mdme. Patti would like to see me. She, too, had been on the point of going to bed. But on learning the strait in which I was placed she at once rang the bell, mustered her maids, requested them to pack up all her worldly effects, and now assured me that she would sing for me day and night rather than let me be the victim of Gerster's caprices.

Whilst I was thanking Mdme. Patti another little card was slipped in my hand from the adjoining room requesting a word with me. On entering Mdme. Gerster's apartments I found her dressed, and she now declared her willingness to accompany me to the Far West.

The long and short of it was that I found myself in the train with both my prime donne. I thereupon telegraphed to my agent in advance to call in at Denver and arrange for a performance of Mdme. Patti in La Traviata on the following Saturday morning on our way through. We duly arrived in Denver, when on reaching the hotel Mdme. Gerster accidentally saw that Patti had been announced for one of the performances.

Without a moment's warning she left the hotel, presented herself at the station, and ordered a special train to take her back to the East on her way to Europe. It was, indeed, a sore trial to bring matters to an amicable conclusion; but in this I eventually succeeded. I assured Mdme. Gerster that Mdme. Patti would have nothing further to do for some length of time. If Patti sang again Mdme. Gerster declared she would leave the Company.

At the conclusion of my Denver engagement we left for Cheyenne. The opera train consisted of eleven elegant carriages; and prior to our arrival at Cheyenne we were met on the road by two special cars, having on board Councillors Holliday, Dater, Babbitt, Warren, Irvine, and Homer, likewise the Hon. Jones, Ford, and Miller, and some forty other representatives of the Upper and Lower Houses of the great territory of the West. We were agreeably surprised when the train pulled up. To my great astonishment both Houses had been adjourned in honour of our visit. There was, in fact, a general holiday. One carriage contained dry Pommery and Mumm champagne, intersected with blocks of ice, whilst another compartment was full of cigars. Both trains pulled up on the plains, when an interchange of civilities took place and several speeches were made.

Shortly afterwards we started the train again in the direction of Cheyenne, where the band of the 9th Regiment, brought from a considerable distance from one of the military stations, was waiting to receive us. Mdme. Patti, who was in her own car, insisted upon having it detached from the train in order not to interfere with the welcome she considered due to Mdme. Gerster, who was to perform that evening in La Sonnambula, which was the only opera to be given during our visit. At the conclusion of the reception Gerster was accompanied to the hotel. Two hours later there was to be a serenade to Mdme. Patti, who at a given time was drawn into the station. The brass band, being placed in a circle with the bandmaster in the centre, commenced performing music which was rather mixed. Mdme. Patti requested me to ask the bandmaster what they were playing; but on my attempting to enter the circle the bandmaster rushed at me, telling me with expressive gestures that if I touched one of his musicians the whole circle would fall down. They had been on duty during the last thirty-six hours waiting our arrival, and as they had taken "considerable refreshment," he had had great difficulty in placing them on their feet. We dispensed with all ceremony, and the night serenade was struck out of the programme, the men being sent home.

The opera of Sonnambula was performed that evening, and although ten dollars a seat were charged, the house was crowded. To my great astonishment, although Cheyenne is but a little town, consisting of about two streets, it possesses a most refined society, composed, it is true, of cowboys; yet one might have imagined one's self at the London Opera when the curtain rose—the ladies in brilliant toilettes and covered with diamonds; the gentlemen all in evening dress.

The entire little town was lighted by electricity. The club house is one of the pleasantest I have ever visited; and the people are most hospitable.

When the performance was over we all returned to the train, and started for Salt Lake City.

On our arrival there Mdme. Gerster drove to the theatre. Mdme. Patti and Nicolini amused themselves by visiting the great Tabernacle, I accompanying them. On entering this superb building, excellent in an acoustic point of view, and capable of seating 12,000 persons, the idea immediately crossed my mind of giving, if possible, a concert there on our return from San Francisco; but I was unsuccessful in my endeavours to obtain the use of it. I thereupon resolved that Mdme. Patti should invite the Mormon Prophet himself, together with as many of the twelve apostles as we could obtain, to visit her private car, then outside the station; and a splendid déjeuner was prepared by the cooks.

The next morning the Prophet Taylor came, accompanied by several of his apostles. Mdme. Patti took great care to praise the magnificent building she had visited the day previously, expressing a strong desire that she might be allowed to try her voice there, which led on to my observing that a regular concert would be more desirable. To this a strong objection was made by several apostles, who stated that the building was not intended for any such purpose, but was simply a place of worship.

Mdme. Patti, however, launched into enthusiastic praise of the Mormon doctrines, and, in fact, expressed a strong wish to join the Mormon Church. After hearing her sing two or three of her dainty little songs the Prophet was so impressed that he actually consented to a concert being given in the Tabernacle the following month. On my suggesting three dollars for the best seats an objection was instantly made by one of the apostles, who, having five wives, thought it would be rather a heavy call upon his purse. It was ultimately settled that the prices should be only two dollars and one dollar.

We performed the opera of Lucia that evening in Salt Lake Theatre in presence of all the prominent inhabitants of the lovely city, the receipts reaching some £750. The Prophet attended.

Starting for the West immediately after the opera, we about thirty hours afterwards reached Reno, where we stopped to water the engine; and, although still some 250 miles from San Francisco, the train was boarded by a lot of reporters, who had been waiting a couple of days to meet the party, determined if possible to secure an interview with the Diva. In the meantime they busied themselves writing a description of the magnificent train of boudoir state-rooms until we reached Truckee, where a considerable portion of the line had been washed away. There had, moreover, been a snow-slide from some of the great mountains, which caused a stoppage of nearly twelve hours.

Suddenly, as if by magic, some 1,500 Chinamen arrived and commenced repairing the road. During this time the reporters had ample time to interview everybody, as the railway carriages one by one had to be conveyed over a temporary road which the Chinamen had built.

The whole of Truckee's population came out to meet us, composed of cowboys, miners, and Indians. Patti was much charmed with a little papoose carried on one of the Indian women's backs. She placed herself at the piano and commenced singing nursery rhymes. She likewise whistled a polka very cleverly to her own accompaniment; which made the papoose laugh. She thereupon expressed a strong wish to purchase it and adopt it, having no children of her own. It was only in compliance with Nicolini's persuasive powers that she ultimately desisted.

On our leaving Truckee a wild shout went up from the Indians, resembling a kind of war-whoop, in which the whole of the Truckee population joined.

Ultimately we reached Sacramento. Again all the inhabitants came out, many crying, "God bless her Majesty!" "God bless Colonel Mapleson!" the crowd, as usual, being largely composed of Indians and Chinese. An attempt was made to surround Patti's car in order to make her get out and sing.

Prior to leaving Sacramento other reporters got in, insisting upon interviewing Patti. I replied—

"Do you think I pay Patti £1,000 a night and spend all my profits buying these magnificent cars for her and Nicolini to have her interviewed by newspaper reporters? No, sir, you cannot interview Patti. We have a lot of beautifully-written interviews already in type in my ante-room, and you can go and select those you like best. You can see the car, moreover, with Count Zacharoff. In the hind car you will find some Apollinaris and rye whisky, and there is a box of cigars in the corner."

"Look here, Colonel," replied one of the reporters, very firmly, placing his right hand in his hip pocket, "I am no London reporter to be put off in that kind of way. I have come several hundreds of miles to interview Patti, and see her I must. Refuse me, and I shall simply telegraph two lines to San Francisco that Patti has caught a severe cold in the mountains, and that Gerster's old throat complaint is coming on again. Do you understand?"

I replied, "Cannot you interview me instead?" feeling appalled at his threat.

"No, sir," replied he; "Patti or perdition!"

I now saw Nicolini, who ultimately consented to the reporter's seeing the Diva. Summoning a swarthy valet, he ordered him to conduct the journalist to Mdme. Patti's apartments, Nicolini following him.

A few seconds later the reporter was face to face with Patti in her gorgeous palace car. Nicolini performed the ceremony of introduction, while the parrot muttered a few "cusses" in French. Patti smilingly motioned the reporter to be seated, and the long-expected interview was about to take place, when Nicolini suddenly returned and commenced ringing the electric bells. In an instant all was confusion. Valets rushed hither and thither, Nicolini declaring in the choicest Italian that he had discovered a small draught coming through a ventilator; and it was not until this had been closed and his adored madame had been wrapped in shawls that the interview could proceed.

Patti had evidently been interviewed before, for she took the lead in the conversation from the start. Her first inquiry was about the weather in California, of which she had heard. She asked whether it was warm and sunny like her native Spain. She said she was tired of ice and snow, of Colorado and Montana, and that she was very pleased at being able to reach San Francisco. At the conclusion of the interview the reporter left the room, went to the end of the train, and dropped a small parcel overboard on passing one of the signal boxes. I afterwards learned that it contained a page of matter which we found in print on our arrival at San Francisco. He had given a detailed report of all that had occurred in the train.

In due course we reached San Francisco, where my agent informed me that the engagement was going to be a great success, two-thirds of the tickets having been sold for the entire season.

On our arriving at Oakland, opposite San Francisco, the morning papers were eagerly purchased, and the announcements scanned by Signor Nicolini and Patti, both of whom expressed amazement at having been brought some 3,000 miles to do nothing. In fact, I myself felt rather for the moment nonplussed. I nevertheless immediately took the matter up, whispering to Nicolini to be quiet, and to tell Mdme. Patti to be quiet, as I had prepared a scheme which I thought she would be pleased with.

I then set to work to think what could be done. On reaching my hotel, it being Sunday, of course no printing could be attempted. I, therefore, inserted an advertisement in the paper for the following morning notifying that, profiting by Mdme. Patti's and Signor Nicolini's presence on a voyage of pleasure to the Far West, I had persuaded them to give a performance. I had selected the ensuing Thursday—the only blank night I had. At the same time, in justice to those who had subscribed so liberally for the season, I notified that the original subscribers should have the first choice of the Patti tickets in priority to the general public, with a discount of 10 per cent. besides. This contented them, and, in fact, augmented still further the subscription for the whole season, many joining in simply for the chance of being able to obtain a ticket for Patti.

When this arrangement had been carried out I met Messrs. Sherman and Clay, the well-known music sellers, and begged them kindly to dispose of the few remaining tickets at their shop, on the following Tuesday, so as not to have any confusion with my regular box-office lettings at the theatre.

CHAPTER IV.

ONE of the most extraordinary spectacles ever witnessed in San Francisco was that which presented itself on the evening of our arrival as soon as it got buzzed about that some Patti tickets were to be sold the following Tuesday at Sherman and Clay's.

Shortly after ten o'clock that night the first young man took up his position, and was soon joined by another and another. Then came ladies, until shortly after midnight the line extended as far as the district telegraph office. Some brought chairs, and seated themselves with a pipe or a cigar, prepared for a prolonged siege. Others had solid as well as liquid solace in their pockets to pass away the hours. Telegraph boys were numerous. So were many other shrewd young men who were ready the following morning to sell their places in line to the highest bidder; a position in line costing as much as £2 when within thirty from the door of the office in which the tickets were to be disposed of.

The Adelina Patti epidemic gradually disseminated itself from the moment of her arrival, and began to rage throughout the city from early the following morning.

Many ladies joined the line during the night, and had to take equal chances with the men. Towards morning bargains for good positions in the line reached as high as £4, a sum which was actually paid by one person for permission to take another person's place. Numbers of those in the van of the procession were there solely for the purpose of selling their positions.

The next morning I rose early and took a stroll to admire the city. I observed a vast crowd down Montgomery Street. In fact, the passage within hundreds of yards was impassable, vehicles, omnibuses, etc., all being at a standstill. On inquiring the reason of this commotion I was informed by a policeman that they were trying to buy Patti tickets, which Messrs. Sherman and Clay had for disposal.

On forcing my way gradually down the street and approaching Sherman and Clay's establishment, I saw, to my great astonishment, that there was not a single pane of glass in any of the windows, whilst the tops of the best pianos and harmoniums were occupied by dozens of people standing upon them in their nailed boots, all clamouring for Patti tickets. Messrs. Sherman and Clay solicited me earnestly either to remove Patti from the town, or, at least, not to entrust them with the sale of any more tickets, the crowd having done over £600 of damage to their stock.

I had no further difficulty at the moment with Gerster, who believed Patti was going to sing but one night. Besides, the sale of tickets had been very great on her account before Patti's presence in the city had become known.

About eight o'clock that evening a serenade was tendered to Patti by a large orchestra under Professor Wetterman; the court-yard of the Palace Hotel where she was staying being brilliantly illuminated. The six tiers of magnificent galleries surrounding it were crowded with visitors and illuminated a giorno. As soon as the first strains of the music were heard Mdme. Patti came from her room with a circle of friends, and was an attentive listener. After remaining some time she deputed Signor Arditi to congratulate the orchestra on their brilliant performance, the favourite conductor receiving quite an ovation as he delivered the message.

The preparations at the Grand Opera were most elaborate, and the decorations particularly so. The theatre and passages had been repapered, flags festooned, and in the centre facing the main door was a huge crystal fountain, having ten smaller jets throwing streams of eau de Cologne into glass basins hung with crystal pendants. All over the vestibule were the rarest tree orchids, violets in blossom and roses in full bloom; while the corner of the vestibule was draped with the flags of every nation, among which England, America, Italy, and Hungary predominated.

On the opening night the Grand Opera-house presented a spectacle of magnificence which I may say without exaggeration can never have been surpassed in any city. The auditorium was quite dazzling with a bewildering mass of laces, jewels, and fair faces. Every available place was taken. Outside in the street there must have been thousands of people all clamouring for tickets, whilst the broad steps of the church opposite were occupied by persons anxious to catch a glimpse of the toilettes of the ladies as they sprang out of their carriages into the vestibule.

The season opened with Lucia di Lammermoor, in which Mdme. Etelka Gerster appeared as the ill-fated heroine. I will not go into details of the performance, further than to say that the stage was loaded after every act with the most gorgeous set pieces of flowers, several being so cumbersome that they had to be left on the stage at the sides in sight of the audience during the remainder of the opera. The next evening was devoted to rest after the long and fatiguing journey that we had all undergone, Mdme. Gerster remaining in her apartments to prepare for her second appearance the following night.

The next evening was devoted to a performance of L'Elisir d'Amore, when Mdme. Gerster drew another 10,000 dollar house—the floral picturesqueness of the auditorium of the previous Monday being repeated.

Mdme. Patti was now to appear as "La Traviata." On the day of the performance it took the whole of the police force to protect the theatre from the overwhelming crowds pressing for tickets, although it had been announced that no more were to be had. Long before daylight the would-be purchasers of Patti tickets had collected and formed into line, reaching the length of some three or four streets; and from this time until the close of the engagement, some four weeks afterwards, that line was never broken at any period of the day or night. A brisk trade was done in the hiring of camp stools, for which the modest sum of 4s. was charged. A similar amount was levied for a cup of coffee or a slice of bread and butter. As the line got hungry dinners were served, also suppers. High prices were paid to obtain a place in the line, as the head of it approached the box-office; resulting only in disappointment to the intending buyer, who was, of course, unable to procure a ticket. Large squads of police were on duty the whole time, and they were busily employed in keeping the line in its place, and in defeating outsiders in their attempts to make a gap in it. Later on it was announced that a limited number of gallery tickets would be sold, when a rush was made, carrying away the whole of the windows, glass, statuary, plants, etc.

Ticket speculators were now offering seats at from £4 to £10 each, places in the fifth row of the dress circle fetching as much as £4, being 400 per cent. above the box-office price. They found buyers at rates which would have shamed Shylock. Later in the day fulminations were launched upon my head, and I was accused of taking part in the plunder. I therefore determined, as far as possible, to set this right.

At length evening approached, and hundreds of tickets had been sold for standing room only.

Meanwhile Chief Crowley and Captain Short of the police, on seeing the aisles leading to the orchestra stalls and dress-circle blocked by the vast crowd, many of whom were seated on camp-stools which they had secretly brought with them, procured a warrant for my arrest the following morning. Several hot disputes occurred about this time in the main vestibule in consequence of numbers of duplicate tickets having been issued; and several seatholders were unable to reach their places. One gentleman challenged another to come and fight it out on the side walk with revolvers.

To describe the appearance of the house would be impossible. The toilettes of the ladies were charming. Many were in white, and nearly all were sparkling with diamonds. In the top gallery people were literally on the heads of one another, and on sending up to ascertain the cause, as the numbers were still increasing, the inspector ascertained that boards had been placed from the top of an adjoining house on to the roof of the Opera-house, from which the slates had been taken off; and numbers were dropping one by one through the ceiling on to the heads of those who were seated in the gallery.

Patti, of course, was smothered with bouquets, and the Italian residents of the city sent a huge globe of violets, supported on two ladders, with the Italian and American flags hanging over each side. At the end of each act huge stands and forms of flowers were sent up over the footlights and placed on the stage. To name the fashionable people in the audience would be to go over the invitation lists of the balls given in the very best houses in the city. It would be useless to describe a performance of la Diva, with which everyone is already familiar. Galassi, the baritone, made a great success; and in the gambling scene an elegant ballet was introduced, led by little Mdlle. Bettina de Sortis. Chief Crowley reported that it would require 200 extra police to keep order the next day. On going through the tickets in the treasury, we discovered upwards of 200 bogus ones taken at the door. These counterfeits were so good, even to the shade of colour, that it was almost impossible to detect the difference from the real ones; the public having smashed into the opera as if shot from howitzers. Several ladies declared that their feet had never even touched the ground from the time they got out of their carriages; and it was with difficulty that the tickets were snatched from them as they passed. Many who had paid for standing room brought little camp stools concealed under their clothes, and afterwards opened them out, placing them in the main passage ways. Had any panic occurred, or any alarm of fire, many lives must have been sacrificed.

Of course the blame for all this was put upon me. The next day there were low mutterings of discontent all over the city against my management, whilst the newspapers were unanimous in attacking me, some of their articles being headed "The Opera Swindle."

The following day I was arrested at half-past two o'clock by Detective Bowen, on a sworn warrant from Captain Short, for violating Section 49 of the Fire Ordinance of the city and county, in allowing the passage ways to be blocked up by the use of camp stools and overcrowding, the penalty for such violation being a fine of not less than 500 dollars, together with imprisonment for not less than six months.

In obedience to the warrant issued, I entered the police court the next day, accompanied by General W. H. L. Barnes, the eminent counsel who had charge of the famous Sharon case, and Judge Oliver P. Evans. On Barnes asking to see the order for arrest he found that I was described as "John Doe Mapleson," the explanation being that my Christian name was unknown. I was charged with a misdemeanour in violating the ordinance of the fire department, which declares that it is unlawful to obstruct the passage-ways or aisles of theatres during a performance. After some consultation a bond was drawn up in due form of law, General Barnes and Judge Evans being my bondsmen.

A meeting was afterwards held in the court, when the licensing collector suggested that for the protection of the public, ticket pedlars on the pavement should be made to take out a licence at an extra charge of 100 dollars each.

Notwithstanding this enormous tax, more licences were issued that afternoon at the increased rate.

At the next matinée Mdme. Gerster appeared in La Sonnambula, when the house was again crowded.

I now announced a second performance by Mdme. Patti, for the following Tuesday, in Il Trovatore, stating that the box-office would open for the sale of any surplus tickets on the following Monday at 10. Early on the morning of the sale, the line, formed between four and five o'clock in the morning, was gradually increased by new comers, all anxious to secure tickets; and by 10 o'clock, without exaggeration, it had swelled to thousands.

I herewith quote the following spirited and characteristic description of the scene from the Morning Call of March 15th, 1884:—

"To one who has stood on Mission Street, opposite the Grand Opera-house, yesterday forenoon, and 'viewed the battle from afar,' as it might be said, it seemed that a large number of people had run completely mad over the desire to hear Patti sing. Such an excited, turbulent, and, in fact, desperate crowd never massed in front of a theatre for the purpose of purchasing tickets. It absolutely fought for tickets, and it is questionable whether, if it had been an actual riot by a fierce and determined mob, the scene could have been more exciting or the wreck of the entrance of the theatre more complete. After the throng had melted away the approaches to the box-office looked as if they had been visited by a first-class Kansas cyclone in one of its worst moods. The fact that tickets were on sale for several performances had much to do with it. It was a sort of clean-up for last evening and to-day's matinée, but above all for the Patti night on Tuesday. A line began to form as early as five o'clock in the morning, and it grew and multiplied until at ten o'clock it had turned the corner on Third Street, while the main entrance was packed solid with a writhing and twisting mass of humanity, which pressed close to the glass doors which form the first barrier, and which were guarded by a lone policeman. He did his best to reduce the pressure upon himself and upon the doors, but as the time passed and the box-office did not open the crowd became more noisy and unmanageable, and finally an irresistible rush was made for the doors. They did not resist an instant, and gave way as though they had been made of paper. In the fierce tumult which followed the glass was all broken out of them, a boy being hurled bodily through one of the panes, with a most painful result to him, for he fell cut and bruised inside. There was not an inch of available space between the street and the main entrance that was not occupied by men, women, or children, indiscriminately huddled in together. The potted plants were overturned and annihilated under the feet of the throng; the glass in the large pictures which adorned the walls was broken, and the pictures themselves dragged to the floor. The box-office was besieged by a solidly-packed and howling mob, the regular line entirely overwhelmed, and a grand struggle ensued to get as near the box-office—which had not been opened—as possible. Then the crowd itself essayed to get into some sort of order.

"The more powerful forced themselves to the front and started a new line without any regard for those who had been first in position before the barriers were overthrown. It twisted itself about the lobby, forming curves and angles that would have made the typical snake retire into obscurity for very envy. This line was pressed upon from all sides by unfortunates who had been left out of the original formation of it. The air was thick and sultry, the crowd perspired and blasphemed, and the storming of the box-office became imminent. Just at this juncture Captain Short arrived with a large squad of police, and under the influence of a copious display of suggestive-looking locusts [the truncheons of the American police are made of locust wood] the crowd sullenly fell back and formed a somewhat orderly line. A line of season-ticket holders was also formed to purchase tickets for the next Patti night, and these were admitted through the inner door and served from the manager's office. In addition the crowd was notified that no Patti tickets would be sold from the box-office, but that all must go inside. This produced a yell of anger and turned bedlam loose again, as it broke up the line. But the police made a grand charge and forced hundreds outside, against the indignant protests of many who claimed that they had been in the regular line all the forenoon, only to be deprived of their rights by the police. The sale which followed seems to have given more satisfaction than that for the first Patti night."

Prior to the opening of the sale I discovered that some thirty speculators had somehow got to the inside barrier close to the office before the bonâ fide public, who had been waiting outside so long. I found that they had broken a window on the stage; afterwards clambering up and passing through the lobby of the theatre to the inner barrier, before the outer doors had been opened. I then saw that they intended to secure the whole of the tickets offered for sale. I therefore, in passing a second time, quietly nudged one of them, winked suggestively, and pointed to the upper circle ticket office; leading the willing dupes who followed me through a door in the main wall to an inner office. No sooner had the last one gone through than I had the door locked. I thus "corralled" between 25 and 30 of these speculative gentry, and kept them for over two hours, during which time the tickets were disposed of. This cleared my character with the general body of the public, who at once saw that I was in no league whatever with the speculators, or they would have turned King's evidence after my treatment of them.

While I was performing this manœuvre, the rush and jamb in the main vestibule became so great that the police officers were obliged to draw their clubs to maintain order.

On that evening we performed the opera Puritani, in which Mdme. Gerster again sang, to the delight of the numerous audience. About this time I discovered that the head usher had been in the habit of secreting a lot of stools and hiring them out to those who were standing at an extra charge of 12s. apiece. I at once sent for Captain Short, the esteemed Chief of Police, who said to the usher—

"Have the kindness to ask that lady to get up and take that stool away."

"All right," said the usher. "Please hand me that stool, madam."

The lady responded—

"But you made me pay 12s. for it; at all events, return me my money."

The Captain said—

"Give the lady back her 12s."

The answer was—

"We never return fees."

The Captain then gave instructions for one of his officers to take the usher off to the Southern Station and lock him up on a charge of misdemeanour.

The following morning I was again notified to attend the Police Court. My counsel, General Barnes, pleaded for a postponement for one week, on the ground that he was busily engaged in the Sharon case. To this the prosecuting attorney objected, saying that the outraged public demanded the speedy settlement of Mapleson, and the case was therefore set for the following morning.

When the case was called I was not present, being unavoidably detained at the bedside of one of my bass singers, who had suddenly died of pulmonary apoplexy. The deceased, Signor Lombardelli, was a great favourite in the Company.

General Barnes, however, appeared, demanding a postponement of the case, and intimating that a trial by jury would be demanded.

"If this should be conceded the case will go over until next May or June," replied the Clerk of the Court, "by which time the accused will be in Europe."

He therefore protested against the postponement. The Judge said sternly that it would not be granted, and the case was therefore set for the morrow.

On the following morning I came up to the Police Court, which was crowded. Police Captain Short was first called for the prosecution, and testified that the Opera-house was a place of amusement, but that it had been turned into a place of danger every evening since I had been there. Stools and standing spectators were in the main passages, and in case of a panic the consequences would have been most disastrous. Officer O'Connell testified that on the particular night in question there were 57 people standing in one little passage-way having about a dozen small folding stools amongst them. I was then placed on the witness stand, when I stated that I was the manager of the Opera Company, but not of the theatre. I had simply control of the stage, whilst the manager was responsible for the auditorium, and had provided me with the delinquent ushers. The box book-keeper was afterwards placed on the stand, who swore that I had ordered him to sell one-fifth less tickets than the manager had stated the house would hold. The defence only desired to make out the point that I was not the responsible manager. The Judge, however, decided otherwise, and found me guilty.

I was to appear the following morning to hear sentence. A heavy fine was imposed. But it was ultimately reduced to 75 dollars, which the Judge, evidently a lover of music, consented to take out in opera tickets.

That evening Patti appeared as "Leonora" in Il Trovatore. Standing room on the church steps opposite the main entrance to the theatre was again at a great premium, and a force of policemen under Captain Short was early on duty keeping the vestibule clear of loiterers, and allowing none but those who intended to witness the opera to be present.

I will not go into details of the performances either of Signor Nicolini as "Manrico," or of Patti as "Leonora." The representation was one unbroken triumph, and, as usual, the stage was piled up with set pieces and flowers.

About this time a report was brought to me as to the examination I had caused to be made of the bogus tickets, which could only be recognized after being soaked in water, when it appeared that the real ones consisted of three plies of cardboard and the bogus ones only of two.

But even after all this explanation, so disappointed and indignant were those who held the bogus tickets that they insisted, not only upon their money being returned, of which I had never received a penny, but also on their travelling and hotel expenses being repaid them. Many had come hundreds of miles in order to visit the opera.

Having arranged to give a concert on the following Thursday at the Pavilion, a large building capable of holding some 8,000 or 9,000 people, and in order to prevent a recurrence of the scenes I had just encountered and the daily trouble experienced throughout this engagement, I resolved to put up the choice of seats to auction.

The auction took place in the Grand Opera-house, and was attended by over 500 people, who had first to procure tickets of admission to attend the sale. A huge diagram was placed on the drop curtain, showing the seats that were to be sold divided into blocks. The auctioneer, who occupied the conductor's desk, explained that the whole of the seats would be placed on sale to the public and that none would be withheld, the bidders merely to name the premiums they wished to give for the privilege of purchasing the tickets. The first bidder gave 12s. premium per seat for the first choice of six seats for the concert, and other sums varied from 10s. down to 2s. 6d., the premiums alone reaching some £1,000, in addition to the sale of tickets.

This plan gave great satisfaction to the public, as whatever advance they then paid on the ticket went into the manager's pocket instead of the speculators'.

When the great concert took place the vast building was nearly full. Nine thousand persons had paid from one to five dollars each. The rain meanwhile was coming down in sheets, and several speculators who had obtained large numbers of tickets were now left out in the cold—and in the rain—with their purchases. Inside, at the back of the gallery, a brisk business was done in telescopes, for such was here the distance from Patti that, though her voice could be clearly heard, her features could not be seen.

A subscription was now started for the benefit of the widow of the late basso, Signor Lombardelli. Patti had contributed 150 dollars, when Gerster, to show that she was a greater artist, gave 1,000. I contributed 600; Galassi, Arditi, and the others 100 dollars each.

The following morning Lombardelli's funeral took place, which caused a great stir in the city. There was a full choral service; the orchestra and the whole Opera Company taking part in it, including the principal artists. Not only was San Francisco in full fête at this extraordinary funeral, but numbers of the Chinese came down from their city (called "Chinatown") in order to be present.

That evening a great reception was given by the San Francisco Verein in honour of Mdme. Gerster. The guests commenced to arrive early, and the entertainment was carried on till midnight. It is to be noted that the night for the compliment to Gerster was that of the Patti concert at the Pavilion.

On the following evening Gerster appeared as "Margherita" in Faust, the house being again crowded from floor to ceiling. That same night Patti's admirers gave a grand ball in her honour at the Margherita Club, for which 500 invitations were issued. An immense floral bower had been constructed for the occasion, the sides of the room being beds of choice flowers and roses in full bloom, while four enormous horse-shoes, all of flowers, adorned each corner of the room. Suspended from the roof was a great star with the word "Patti" in electric incandescent burners.

The Italian Consul, the Russian Consul, and several officers from the Russian flagship then in San Francisco Bay were present. The Queen of Song was escorted into the ballroom by Count Brichanteau, the band playing the "Patti Valse," composed expressly for the occasion by Arditi. A formal reception was afterwards held by the members of the Club; and later on a gorgeous supper was served in the Pavilion, which had been specially erected, decorated with large Italian and Union flags. Dancing was kept up until an early hour the following morning.

While the rivalry between Patti and Gerster was at its height it was made known that General Crittenden, Governor of Missouri, had given Patti a kiss. Thereupon Mdme. Patti was interviewed, when she spoke as follows:—

"I had just finished singing 'Home, Sweet Home' last Thursday evening, when a nice-looking old gentleman, who introduced himself as Governor Crittenden, began congratulating me. All of a sudden he leaned down, put his arms around me, drew me up to him, and kissed me. He said, 'Madame Patti, I may never see you again, but I cannot help it;' and before I knew it he was kissing me. When a gentleman, and such a nice old gentleman, too, and a Governor of a great State, kisses one so quick that one has not time to see and no time to object, what can one do?"

The following dialogue on the subject between Mdme. Gerster and a reporter who had interviewed her was afterwards published:—

CHAPTER V.

I NOW received an invitation from the Admiral commanding Her Britannic Majesty's Pacific Squadron, whose flag-ship, the Triumph, had entered the bay. Several of my leading artists were also invited. The steam pinnace was sent on shore to take us on board. After visiting the ship and receiving all possible courtesies from the officers, we entered the grand saloon, in which an elegant déjeuner had been prepared, comprising all the delicacies of the season. We had scarcely begun our repast when an ominous whisper was passed by one of the officers to the captain of the ship to the effect that most of the band had deserted to go and play for Mapleson, who had offered them £12 a week each, and it was therefore impossible that any music could be given during the luncheon. Not even "God Save the Queen" could be played. The captain, in lieu of communicating this to the admiral, informed me of it privately. I thereupon expressed my surprise, as I had heard nothing about it, and I further gave my word that I would never permit one of the musicians who had deserted to take part in any performance at my theatre.

With this the captain was satisfied. It was rather hard lines to see the men on shore who had deserted the ship, and yet be unable to send a boat's crew to bring them back, after the many months of labour that had been spent in instructing them.

As the opera business kept on increasing, I determined to give an extra week in San Francisco, and to put up the privilege of purchasing seats to auction. Considerable doubt was felt, however, as to the probable result of this venture, and many declared that their purses and patience had been so thoroughly exhausted by the enormous drain of the past two weeks that I had but slender chance of continued patronage for so high-priced an entertainment.

I will, however, describe the sale. At twelve a.m. I opened the doors of the theatre, admission tickets being required to admit the purchasers, so as to keep out the rougher element, as well as the "scalpers." The auctioneer notified that the choice of every single seat in the house would be offered on sale. Upon the drop curtain were colossal diagrams of the different portions of the house, and as fast as each seat was sold it was erased by the auctioneer's assistant, who was in the orchestra with a fishing rod and black paint, with which he crossed off from the diagram each seat as it was sold.

The bids made were for choice of seat and were in addition to the regular price of the tickets.

The arrangements were most satisfactory. I had no representative present to guard my interests, but left all to the auctioneer and the public. The proscenium boxes reached 240 dollars premium for the five nights, on three of which I guaranteed that Gerster would sing, whilst Patti would sing on the other two.

Boxes were sold all round the house at an average of 120 dollars premium, each purchaser calling out from the auditorium the seat he would prefer, which was accordingly marked off, and a ticket handed to him by which he could obtain the seat selected on payment at the box office. Numbers of speculators somehow or another got mixed up with the public, and thus obtained sundry tickets. The premiums for the five nights reached £3,000.

Nothing but standing room and the gallery was left for the paying public. Notwithstanding this, the line I have already told the reader of still existed, and was as long as ever. This I could not account for, and on inquiry I found that numbers who had placed themselves in line never intended purchasing tickets, but waited there only for the purpose of selling their places. An order was thereupon issued by the police calling upon those nearest the office to produce their money to show that they were bonâ-fide purchasers. Those who could not do so were immediately removed. This difficulty, however, was met by some enterprising Jews, who lent out money for the day, simply that it might be shown to the police.

Friday was selected for the benefit and farewell of Gerster in L'Elisir d'Amore. Patti had chosen for her benefit La Traviata; which, however, was changed at the request of some 500 people, who signed a petition requesting me to substitute Crispino.

Whilst occupied one morning in my room on the fourth story at the Palace Hotel, counting with my treasurers several thousands of pounds, the atmosphere suddenly became dark. A sort of wind was blowing round the apartment, and my senses seemed to be leaving me. I could not make out what it was. The Hotel rocked three inches one way and then three inches another; the plates and knives and forks jumping off on to the floor, whilst my money was rolling in all parts of the room. I made a rush for the door, and then for the street, realizing now that there was an earthquake. Although it lasted but ten seconds the time appeared at least half an hour. On leaving the hotel I met the landlord.

"Don't be frightened," he said.

"Well, but I am."

"Nonsense! My hotel is earthquake-proof as well as fire-proof," he said, handing me a card, on which I found this inscribed: "The Palace Hotel. Fire-proof and earthquake-proof."

He afterwards explained to me that everything employed in the construction of the building was either wood or iron, no plaster or stone being used. Indeed, although this hotel is six stories high, with open corridors looking into the main courtyard the length of the entire building, it is wound round the exterior with no less than four miles of malleable iron bands. The proprietor, Mr. Sharon, said it might move into another street, but could not fall down.

To such an extent had Patti's superstitious feeling with regard to Gerster been developed that she at once ascribed the earthquake to Gerster's evil influence. It was not merely a malicious idea of hers, but a serious belief.

Meanwhile money was no consideration to those amateurs who had it. Tickets were gold. They were seized with avidity apart from any question about price. Hundreds were content to wait throughout the night, with money in their hands, to ensure the possession of even standing room, whilst thousands who, in their impecuniosity, could not hope to cross the threshold of the musical Valhalla, where Patti and Gerster were the divinities presiding, thronged the side walks, and gazed longingly at the dumb walls of the theatre, and the crowd of idolaters pouring in to worship.

At eight o'clock a.m. a second line of enthusiasts began to occupy the centre of the road leading to the Grand Opera, although the doors were not to be thrown open until six hours afterwards. A line was formed down Mission and Third Street, extending almost to Market Street. Ticket speculators passed up and down the line, and did a brisk business, tickets in some instances reaching £20 apiece.

Captain Short again arrived with 60 extra policemen, but he was pushed out with all his men, the crowd quite overpowering them. The 17 nights' performances produced £40,000. The receipts of the first Patti night did not fall far short of £5,000.

On the morning of our departure from San Francisco four young men were arrested, charged with the wholesale forgery of opera tickets. They had issued 60 bogus tickets for the opening night alone, and this caused all the confusion and wrangling. They were proved to have made a purchase of printer's ink, and to have bought one Patti ticket as a model, from which they had copied the remainder. They were duly convicted.

We left San Francisco late that evening, being accompanied by Mr. de Young, the proprietor of the leading newspaper, and his charming wife, and we arrived in due course at Salt Lake City on Tuesday evening, where Mdme. Patti dressed in her own railway car, which afterwards conveyed her to the concert. At the end of the concert she returned to the car, where a magnificent supper had been prepared for her, and the train then started for the East.

Meanwhile, the Mormons had been enthusiastic at the idea of their magnificent Tabernacle echoing with the tones of Adelina Patti. President Taylor, the Prophet of the Mormon Church, assisted in the preparations made to receive the great songstress. A special line of railway had been laid down from the regular main line of Salt Lake City to the Tabernacle, and on it the special train ran without a hitch up to the very door of the building. Upwards of 14,000 people were present, the event being considered one of extraordinary importance throughout the whole of Utah territory; and the proceeds amounted to nearly £5,000.

We left Salt Lake city after the concert about 1 a.m., and reached Omaha on the following Friday, when Mdme. Gerster appeared as "Lucia di Lammermoor." The train consisted as usual of four baggage cars, four coaches for the principals, four coaches for the chorus and orchestra, four sleeping cars, including the extra boudoir cars, La Traviata, La Sonnambula, and Semiramide, also the Lycoming, my own private car, followed by the car of Adelina Patti. The inhabitants were struck by the elegant style and finish of our equipment, and as the train rolled into the station curious crowds came to look at it, and also to catch a glimpse of the two leading stars, Adelina Patti and Etelka Gerster.

Several artists who had to perform that evening left for the town. Mdme. Patti went for a drive with Nicolini. During her absence a limited number of notabilities were allowed to inspect her car, which had cost £12,000. It was without doubt the most superb and tasteful coach on wheels anywhere in the world. The curtains were of heavy silk damask, the walls and ceilings covered with gilded tapestry, the lamps of rolled gold, the furniture throughout upholstered with silk damask of the most beautiful material. The drawing-room was of white and gold, and the ceiling displayed several figures painted by Parisian artists of eminence. The woodwork was sandal wood, of which likewise was the casing of a magnificent Steinway piano, which alone had cost 2,000 dollars. There were several panel oil paintings in the drawing-room, the work of Italian artists. The bath, which was fitted for hot and cold water, was made of solid silver. The key of the outer door was of 18-carat gold.

On Patti's being interviewed she spoke with unbounded enthusiasm of her trip to California, and expressed at the same time a wish to sing in Omaha the following year. One of the most constant companions of the Diva is the famous, world-renowned parrot, which has mastered several words and sentences in French and English. On Patti whistling a particular tune, the bird imitates her exactly. The reporter wished for its biography, and asked whether it was true that whenever Mapleson entered the car the bird cried out: "Cash, cash!" The parrot had really acquired this disagreeable habit.

That evening Mdme. Patti attended the opera, and received a perfect ovation. At the close of the performance the whole Company started for Chicago, which we reached the following Sunday, when I received telegraphic news of the sad state Cincinnati was in. The riots had assumed terrible proportions, the streets were full of barricades, the gaol had been burned down by petroleum, and the prisoners released from it; whilst absolute fighting was taking place in the streets, and numbers had been killed or wounded.

According to the pictures sent me in an illustrated paper, the militia were firing upon the populace; the Court House had been destroyed by fire, as well as the gaol; and the struggle had already been on for over three days. I therefore telegraphed at once to Fennessy, at Cincinnati, the impossibility of my coming there, the singers one and all objecting to move.

To my great regret I was obliged to cancel my Cincinnati engagement, and we started our train in the direction of New York. On the succeeding Monday we opened the season, during which we produced Romeo and Juliet, with Patti and Nicolini, and gave performances of Elisir d'Amore, followed by Semiramide, in which I was glad to be able to reinstate Scalchi as "Arsace." She having been thrown out of her engagement by the collapse of Mr. Abbey, I readily re-engaged her, not only for that year, but also for the year following.

Mdme. Patti afterwards sailed for Europe, leaving by the Oregon, which was to start early on the Saturday morning. She decided to go on board the day previously, but as it was Friday she drove about the city until the clock struck twelve before she would embark. The following day I shipped off the remainder of my Company.

I myself was compelled to remain behind in consequence of a deal of trouble which was then gathering, and which began by the attachment of the whole of the Patti benefit receipts at the suit of the Bank of the Metropolis. This bank had discounted a joint note of guarantee which the stockholders of the Academy of Music had given me early in the season to enable me to defeat the rival house, which I succeeded in doing.

My losses during the New York season having exceeded £1,200 a week, I was compelled to draw the maximum amount authorized. Nothing at the time was said about my repaying any portion of the money, although I felt morally bound, in case of success, to do so. The stockholders had really acted for the preservation of their own property, my own means having been already swamped in the undertaking. I worked as economically as I possibly could to achieve the purpose for which their assistance had been given; and, in fact, drew some £800 less than I was entitled to. Judge, therefore, of my surprise when I learned of their harsh course of proceedings, beginning with what appeared to be the repudiation of their own signatures.

The Secretary having requested my attendance before the Directors, it had been hinted to me by friends that I was to be invited to a banquet at Delmonico's in recognition of the energy and skill with which, through unheard-of difficulties, I had at last conducted my season to a successful issue. All, however, that the Secretary had to say to me was that unless I immediately took up my guarantors' joint note seizure would be made on the whole of my worldly belongings.

Just at this time most advantageous offers were made to me from the rival Opera-house, then without a manager. But as I still had an agreement with the Academy, I did not enter into the negotiation, explaining my inability to do so, and at the same time relying fully on the justice and liberality of my own Directors and stockholders.

I felt sadly injured at their sending the Sheriff in on the very night of Patti's benefit to lay hands on all my receipts in order to squeeze the guarantee money out of me.

The next day Sheriff Aaron and his satellites took entire charge of the Academy. They commenced by unhanging all my scenery, and it was only with difficulty that I got permission to remove a small writing desk containing a few sheets of paper and half-a-dozen postage stamps. In vain did I remonstrate with the Directors, urging that if they were dissatisfied with my management they could easily set me at liberty from my next year's lease, which would be a great saving to them, inasmuch as by its terms they had to find the theatre for me free, and pay all the gas, service, and other expenses. All my approaches were met with silence, and I was again obliged to decline the tempting offer from the rival theatre, at which I should have had the use of the magnificent house and a very heavy subsidy to boot.

As the Metropolitan Opera Directors could wait no longer, they now opened negotiations with Mr. Gye.

In the meantime the myrmidons of the law, assisted by my regular scene-shifters and carpenters, set to work removing everything into the Nilsson Hall adjoining the Academy, of which I held the lease, whilst other assistants made out an inventory. As there were hundreds of scenes and thousands of dresses, the work continued for many days.

I met shortly afterwards one of the most prominent men of the Academy Board of Directors, who informed me that the Bank had not made application to him, nor, in fact, to any of his friends who had guaranteed the payment of the advance made on their joint bond; and he urged me to insist upon the Bank's making direct application to the signatories of the documents before proceeding to such extremities.

At length I induced the Bank to make the application suggested, and I must say that all the gentlemen punctually paid up. I afterwards ascertained that the trouble had been caused by two individuals who were unwilling to honour their own signatures. All this turmoil and fuss, however, had given new encouragement to the rival directors, who on learning of all the bother, and finding that I could not obtain my release from the Academy, prosecuted their negotiations with Mr. Gye to manage their Opera-house.

It was not until the third week in May that I was able to take my departure from New York. Some three or four hundred people met me at the wharf on my leaving. On the table in the saloons of the steamer were the most gorgeous flower devices sent by my friends of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston. One piece was five feet in height; another consisted of a large crown of roses supported on four rounded arms of metal, covered with vines and blossoms holding an inscription in the centre: "J. H. M., the Invincible," worked in forget-me-nots on a background of red and white carnations. In fact, such magnificent tributes had scarcely ever been offered even to my prime donne.

A tug followed the steamer up the bay with a band of music on board; and, to tell the truth, I was very glad to get out of the place in order that I might have a little relaxation.

CHAPTER VI.

AFTER my departure the Directors of the Metropolitan Opera-house, convinced that they could make no arrangement with me in consequence of my engagement with the Directors of the Academy, which had still a year to run, took further steps towards securing Mr. Gye as manager; and it was proposed that he should open his season at the new theatre on November 10th, to continue for thirteen weeks. The negotiations were conducted on his behalf by his agent, Mr. Lavine. The stockholders of the Metropolitan Opera reserving seventy of the best boxes for themselves, Mr. Gye was to have the house rent free, together with a guarantee against loss, and £200 for each performance. This sum was ultimately raised to £300 for each performance.

Seeing another opera looming in the distance, I at once set to work by re-engaging Mdme. Adelina Patti on her own terms of £1,000 a night; likewise Mdme. Scalchi, Galassi, and Arditi, thus forming a very strong nucleus to start with. I afterwards learned that Gye had been making overtures to Mdme. Patti, Galassi, and others; but fortunately they had already signed contracts with me.

The Metropolitan Directors next dispatched their able attorney, George L. Rives, to Europe for the purpose of completing the arrangements with Gye.

Shortly after my return to London I learned that the Royal Italian Opera, Limited, had gone into liquidation. This, of course, snuffed out at once Gye's contract with the Metropolitan Opera Directors, who being now left without an impresario contemplated diverting the grand building to other purposes. They ultimately, however, resolved to try a German Opera rather than have no Opera at all, and they dispatched their energetic secretary, Mr. Stanton, to Europe for the purpose of engaging artists, Dr. Damrosch being appointed orchestral conductor.

During the summer months I visited various parts of the Continent for the purpose of obtaining the best talent I could find for the coming contest. Various meetings were held by my Academy stockholders in New York when they at length began to realize the justice of my demands for assistance, as it could not be expected that 200 of the best seats, for which no payment whatever was to be made, should be occupied for listening to Mdme. Patti, who was receiving £1,000 a night. After various meetings, a resolution was passed by which they agreed to give me a nightly assessment of four dollars a seat for the proscenium boxes, three for the other boxes, and two for the seats elsewhere, which during my season it was estimated by them would produce some £6,000; and a cable was sent me to that effect in order to obviate the trouble we had all fallen into in the previous year. At the same time the Directors passed a resolution to keep the theatre closed in case I did not accept their promised support.

About this time a young singer named Emma Nevada was attracting considerable attention in Europe, and after some difficulty I succeeded in adding her name to my already powerful list, which, however, did not include that of Madame Christine Nilsson, as I had contemplated; that lady having cried off at the last moment without any valid reason, after I had accepted all her conditions.

In due course the New York prospectus was issued, and a very fine subscription was the result, the demand for boxes being particularly brisk.

We sailed from Liverpool, and arrived in New York on the 1st November. I had a few hours only to give preliminary instruction regarding the commencement of my season when a telegram arrived to the effect that the Oregon, with Mdme. Patti on board, had been sighted off Fire Island.

I at once ordered the military band to go down to the Blackbird; but as no further telegram reached me from Sandy Hook they went on shore for beer. It was late in the evening when the expected telegram arrived, and the vessel had to start immediately. The only musicians I had now on board wherewith to serenade Patti were a clarinet, a trombone, and a big drum.

Stretched from mast to mast was a huge tarpaulin with the word "Welcome!" on both sides, in letters three feet long. In the lower bay of quarantine I met the Oregon, and as my steamer came alongside a small group appeared, and I at once recognized Patti. Handkerchiefs were waved, and three cheers given by my friends on board the Blackbird. We had a ladder with us which just reached from the top of our paddle-box to about two feet below the sides of the vessel. I was on the point of clambering up when the captain shrieked out—

"Patti cannot be taken out to-night without a permission from the health-officer."

I at once tendered a permit I had obtained from the barge office, allowing Patti to go on shore. I passed it to the captain, who, on reading it, said—

"That is all right, but the health-officer must give me a permit before I will let her out of the ship."

I, therefore, had to steam my vessel to quarantine, and it was nearly two hours before I could find health-officer Smith, through whose kind assistance I obtained a permit to take Patti off the ship. On my returning the whole of the passengers gave three hearty cheers as Patti was let over the side into my boat, followed by Nicolini, the maid, the parrot, and the diamonds.

Mdme. Patti, Nicolini, the maid, the parrot, and the diamonds duly arrived at the Windsor Hotel that evening, and the chief of the party was, of course, interviewed forthwith as to how she had passed the previous summer.

"Delightfully," was the Diva's reply. "We had lots of Americans stopping with us at my Castle, and the place grows dearer and dearer to me every year."

She was very much grieved to hear of poor Brignoli's death, which had occurred the previous day, and she sent a magnificent wreath to be placed on his coffin. I attended the funeral on behalf of my Company.

When the arrival of Patti became known in New York great excitement prevailed. The day afterwards the steamship Lessing arrived from Hamburg with an entire German Company for the Metropolitan Opera-house. I now felt quite at my ease, having no anxiety whatever as to the result of their season.

I opened brilliantly on the Monday following the arrival of Patti, with her inimitable performance of "Rosina" in Il Barbiere.

On Sunday I was invited by Henry Ward Beecher to visit Plymouth Church, at Brooklyn. On this occasion a number of railway guards and pointsmen had been asked; and never shall I forget the sermon he preached to them. It was magnificent, and in every way impressive. At the conclusion of the service I was invited to Mr. Beecher's house to luncheon, where there were some twenty of his relations and intimate friends present.

As the water came round he may possibly have observed a distressed look on my countenance. But certain it is that within a few minutes afterwards he said he thought he had a bottle of cider which I might prefer to the beverage then before us; and, although it was labelled cider, I discovered that the bottle contained something resembling excellent old "Pommery sec."

Two nights afterwards I invited him to my box at the opera, scarcely hoping that he would come; but shortly after the overture had commenced I was surprised to find him sitting at my side. He remained there all that evening, the eye of every one in the audience being fixed upon him.

Shortly afterwards my new prima donna, Mdlle. Emma Nevada, arrived, and in due course made her first appearance, in La Sonnambula, when a remarkable scene occurred. At the close of the performance the audience, instead of rushing to the doors as usual, remained, rose to their feet, and called the prima donna three times before the curtain.

This was followed by a production of Gounod's Mirella, in which Emma Nevada again appeared with brilliant success; and afterwards by La Gazza Ladra, with Patti and Scalchi in the leading rôles.

On the 24th November, it being the 25th anniversary of Patti's first appearance at the New York Academy of Music, great preparations were made for the purpose of celebrating her silver wedding with the New York operatic stage.

The opera selected for the occasion was Lucia di Lammermoor, being the same work in which she had appeared exactly 25 years previously on the Academy boards. Patti's first "Edgardo," Signor Brignoli, was to have appeared with her. But his sudden death necessitated an alteration of the original programme, and it was decided to give an opera which the Diva had never sung in America, namely, Martha.

The following account of Patti's début, which appeared in the New York Herald, of November 25th, 1859, will be read with interest:—

"DÉBUT OF MISS PATTI.

"A young lady, not yet seventeen, almost an American by birth, having arrived here when an infant, belonging to an Italian family which has been fruitful of good artists, sang last night the favourite rôle of débutantes, 'Lucia di Lammermoor.'

"Whether it is from the natural sympathy with the forlorn fiancée of the Master of Ravenswood which is infused into the female breast with Donizetti's tender music, or from a clever inspiration that to be unhappy and pretty is a sure passport to the affections of an audience, we cannot say. Certain it is, however, that the aspirants for the ovations, the triumphs, the glories, that await a successful prima donna almost always select this opera for their preliminary dash at the laurels. The music affords a fine opportunity to show the quality and cultivation of the soprano voice, and it is so familiar as to provoke comparison with first-rate artists, and provoke the severest criticisms by the most rigid recognized tests.

"All these were duly and thoroughly applied to Miss Adelina Patti a day or two since by a very critical audience at what was called a show rehearsal. It was then ascertained that Miss Patti had a fine voice, and that she knew how to sing. The artists and amateurs were in raptures. This was a certificate to the public, who do not nowadays put their faith in managers' announcements, unless they are endorsed. With an off-night and an opera worn to bits, the public interest in Miss Patti's début was so great as to bring together a very large audience, rather more popular than usual, but still numbering the best-known habitués and most critical amateurs. The débutante was received politely but cordially—an indication that there was not a strong claque, which was a relief. Her appearance was that of a very young lady, petite and interesting, with just a tinge of schoolroom in her manner. She was apparently self-possessed, but not self-assured.

"After the first few bars of recitative, she launched boldly into the cavatina—one of the most difficult pieces of the opera. This she sang perfectly, displaying a thorough Italian method and a high soprano voice, fresh and full and even throughout. In the succeeding cabaletta, which was brilliantly executed, Miss Patti took the high note E flat, above the line, with the greatest ease. In this cabaletta we noticed a tendency to show off vocal gifts which may be just a little out of place. The introduction of variations not written by the composer is only pardonable in an artist who has already assured her position. In the duet with the tenor (Brignoli) and with the baritone (Ferri), and the mad scene, Miss Patti sang with sympathetic tenderness—a rare gift in one so young—and increased the enthusiasm of the audience to a positive furore, which was demonstrated in the usual way—recalls, bouquets, wreaths, etc., etc. The horticultural business was more extensive than usual.

"Of course we speak to-day only of Miss Patti's qualifications as a singer. Acting she has yet to learn; but artists, like poets, are born, not made. The mere convenances of the stage will come of themselves. She is already pretty well acquainted with them. So far as her voice, skill, method, and execution are concerned, we are simply recording the unanimous opinion of the public when we pronounce the début of Miss Patti a grand success.

"Everyone predicts a career for this young artist, and who knows but the managers may find in her their long-looked-for sensation?"

On repeating the character two days afterwards, said the same paper, "the prima donna was twice called before the curtain, and the stage was literally covered with the flowers thrown before her. The success of this artist, educated and reared amongst us, with all the vocal gifts of an Italian, and all the cleverness of a Yankee girl, is made. Everybody talked of her, wondering who and what she is, where she has been, and so on.

"She was brought out at the Academy to save the season. The manager had a good Company, plenty of fine artists, everything required for fine performances, but the great outside public, always thirsting for something new, wanted a sensation.

"They have it in 'Little Patti,' who not only pleases the connoisseurs and is the special favourite of the fair, but who has all the material for a great popular pet."

The jubilee performance was a brilliant success. At the close of the opera, after the usual number of recalls, accompanied by bouquets, etc., the curtain rose, and at the rear of the stage was an immense American eagle about to soar, beneath which was the word "Patti," and over it "1859-1884." The band of the 7th Regiment approached the footlights, and the musicians played a march that Cappa, the bandmaster, had composed in honour of Mdme. Patti twenty-five years before. Patti walked up to him, and said, with a choking voice: "I thank you for your kindness from the bottom of my heart."

She was afterwards recalled innumerable times, and on reappearing she brought on with her Mdme. Scalchi. At the close of the opera a carriage with four milk-white steeds which I had arranged for was standing to convey its precious burthen to her hotel. Following this we had 100 torch-bearers, for the most part admirers and supporters of the opera. Mounted police were on each side of Patti's carriage. At the end of the procession was a waggon full of people letting off Roman candles and large basins of powder, which, when ignited, made the streets and sky look most brilliant. The route was up Broadway to Twenty-third Street, and thence up Madison Avenue to Patti's hotel.

I on this occasion was to have taken the command of the troops as brigadier. My horse, however, never reached me. It was found impossible to get it through the crowd. This did not prevent the illustrated papers from representing me on horseback, and in a highly military attitude.

Later on two other bands arrived, and took their stations under Patti's windows. This terminated the festivities in honour of the twenty-fifth anniversary of her first appearance on the American operatic stage.

I may here mention that, as a matter of fact, Adelina Patti did not make her first appearance on the American stage in 1859. I find, too, that she sang at Niblo's Saloon in 1855, and subjoin the programme of one of her concerts given in that year:—

Going still further back, I may add that Adelina Patti made her very first appearance on the operatic stage in 1850, at Tripler's Hall, New York; where she sang and acted both. She was seven years old at the time.

The season continued until the latter part of December.

On my applying to the Academy Directors for an instalment of the £6,000 which had been promised me in accordance with the assessment made, I was informed by the Secretary that the assessment would only be allowed to me on Patti nights. This reduced my £6,000 by three-fourths, I having based my calculations on the amount that had been cabled to me. I in no way blame the stockholders, who had been most heavily assessed, and had paid up without a murmur. Some three-fourths of their contributions had been used for other purposes, including the decoration of the theatre.

Finding the President of the Academy Directors obdurate, I at once announced the farewell performances of Mdme. Adelina Patti, and shortly afterwards made arrangements for her appearance, together with that of the whole Company, at Boston, where I opened towards the close of December, glad, indeed, to get away from the Academy.

Our success in Boston was very great. Amongst the productions was Gounod's Mirella, in which Nevada, Scalchi, De Anna, and other artists appeared. Afterwards, of course, came Semiramide, with Patti and Scalchi; one of our surest cards.

We remained at Boston two weeks, concluding, what was then supposed to be Patti's positive farewell to the Bostonians, with a magnificent performance of Linda di Chamouni.

At the conclusion of a representation of Mirella given the following morning we started for Philadelphia, where we had a very remunerative season, the house being crowded nightly to the ceiling.

The American theatres are much better kept than ours. They are dusted and cleaned every day, so that a lady in America can go to the play or to the opera without the least danger of getting her dress spoiled; which in England, if the dress be of delicate material, she scarcely can do. The American theatres, moreover, are beautifully warmed during the winter months; so that the risk of bronchitis and inflammation of the lungs to which the enterprising theatre-goers of our own country are exposed has in the United States no existence.

Apart from the risk of getting her dress injured by dirt or dust, a lady has no inducement to wear a handsome toilette at a London Opera-house, where the high-fronted boxes with their ridiculous curtains prevent the dresses from being seen. At the American Opera-houses the boxes are not constructed in the Italian, but in the French style. They are open in front, that is to say, so that those who occupy them can not only see, but be seen. As for the curtains, they are neither a French nor an Italian, but exclusively an English peculiarity. What possible use can they serve? They have absolutely no effect but to deaden the sound.

An interesting feature in every American Opera-house is the young ladies' box—a sort of omnibus box to which young ladies alone subscribe. The gentlemen who are privileged to visit them in the course of the evening are also allowed full liberty to supply them with bouquets, which are always of the most delicate and most expensive kind—costing in winter from £4 to £5 a-piece. The front of the young ladies' box is kept constantly furnished with the most beautiful flowers that love can suggest or money buy; and if, as it frequently does, it occurs to one or more of the young ladies to throw a few of the bouquets to the singers on the stage, their friends and admirers are expected at once to fill up the gaps.

Whilst at Philadelphia the head-waiter of the hotel informed me that a very grand concert was to take place, for which it was difficult to obtain tickets, but that a prima donna would sing there whom he considered worthy of my attention. In due course he got me a ticket, and I attended the concert, which was held in one of the extreme quarters of the city. On entering I was quite surprised to find an audience of some 1,500 or 2,000, who were all black, I being the only white man present. I must say I was amply repaid for the trouble I had taken, as the music was all of the first order.

In the course of the concert the prima donna appeared, gorgeously attired in a white satin dress, with feathers in her hair, and a magnificent diamond necklace and earrings. She moreover wore white kid gloves, which nearly went to the full extent of her arm, leaving but a small space of some four inches between her sleeve and the top of her glove. Her skin being black, formed, of course, an extraordinary contrast with the white kid.

She sang the Shadow Song from Dinorah delightfully, and in reply to a general encore gave the valse from the Romeo and Juliet of Gounod. In fact no better singing have I heard. The prima donna rejoiced in the name of Mdlle. Selika. Shortly afterwards a young baritone appeared and sang the "Bellringer," so as to remind me forcibly of Santley in his best days. I immediately resolved upon offering him an engagement to appear at the Opera-house in London as "Renato" in Un Ballo in Maschera, whom Verdi, in one version of the opera, intended to be a coloured man; afterwards to perform "Nelusko" in L'Africaine, and "Amonasro" in Aida. Feeling certain of his success, I intended painting him white for the other operas.

After some negotiation I was unable to complete the arrangement. He preferred to remain a star where he was.

After the final performance of our Philadelphia engagement we started at about 3 a.m. with the whole Company for New Orleans, our special train being timed to reach that city by the following Sunday. On arriving at Louisville the gauge was broken, and the track became narrow gauge, which necessitated the slinging of every one of my grand carriages to have new trollies put under them to fit the smaller gauge. This was so skilfully managed whilst the artists were asleep that they were unaware of the operation.

CHAPTER VII.

ON getting down to New Orleans we found a great change in the temperature, and although it was the month of January the thermometer stood at about 75°. It had been raining exactly six weeks prior to our arrival, and only ceased as our train went in, fine weather immediately afterwards making its appearance.

Our opening opera was La Sonnambula with Nevada, which was followed by La Traviata with Mdme. Patti. Prior to the last act a panic was caused in the theatre by the falling of some plaster from the front of the dress circle. Someone near the exit to the stalls shouted "Fire," a cry which was repeated by numbers of men in the lobby. Consternation was seen in the faces of the audience, and a general rush was made for the doors. The situation was serious in the extreme; but the presence of mind of some gentlemen present, aided by the equal coolness of several ladies, had the effect of allaying the general fright.

Many ladies, on the other hand, fainted from excitement, whilst numbers of persons left the theatre, so that the last act was given with a very bare house.

"A great deal of excitement," wrote a local journal, "was manifested in the street, and rumour magnified the incident. It took the shape of a fearful accident in the minds of some people, and it was some time before the public was assured that no damage had resulted to life or limb. One young lady fainted as she was about to enter her carriage in front of the theatre. She fell to the side walk, slightly cutting her mouth, and was unconscious for a few minutes. With the assistance of Dr. Joseph Scott, her friends succeeded in reviving her, and she was placed in a carriage and driven home. Mr. David Bidwell was this morning waited upon by the Item reporter, who informed him of the many rumours regarding the safety of the St. Charles Theatre. Mr. Bidwell said: 'The whole trouble comes from the fall of a small piece of plastering, three feet long by one foot and a half wide, in the left part of the theatre, back to the parquette seats. The plastering at that place had been disturbed during the Kiralfy engagement by the moving out of some scenery. I had the spot repaired during the wet weather, and, from the dampness, the plastering did not hold. As regards the solidity of the theatre, you can state that it is the strongest building of its kind; the walls are in places four feet thick. Everything inside is sound and substantial, having been recently repaired and renovated. Mr. William Freret, the architect, has just been in here, and made a thorough inspection. He finds everything in first-class condition, and sound as can be. The public should not give credence to silly rumours, but listen to the voice of common sense and reason, and accept this satisfactory explanation.'"

The City Surveyor, with various architects, visited the theatre the following day to report; but all certified that the building was solid, and that probably the stamping of so many feet in applauding Patti had caused the fall of the plaster. However it may have been, my receipts being so considerably injured, I was compelled, after paying damages to the manager for not completing the engagement, to remove the Company and rent the Grand French Opera-house for the ensuing week. When my announcement was made several ladies called upon me, and a meeting was convened at one of their houses at which the élite of the city were present. A number of gentlemen had been invited to tea, and before being allowed to leave the room each of them was required to subscribe for at least one box. In this manner the whole of my boxes for the remainder of the season were disposed of.

I had a deal of trouble in getting the theatre into working order, it having been closed for a considerable period. The corridors had to be whitened and the dressing-rooms to be papered, and all the business had to be conducted in French, as my stage carpenters and employés were all of that nationality. The manager of the other theatre had refused to allow any of his staff to assist.

During this time the great New Orleans Exhibition had been opened, to which thousands of people were attracted. My attention, however, was drawn to the Woman's Work Department, in great need just then. I therefore organized a grand benefit matinée on their behalf, which was promptly responded to by many of the ladies of New Orleans. Many of my principal artists took part in the concert, and I was assisted by a splendid Mexican cavalry band. A large sum of money was realized, which was afterwards handed over to the treasurer of the Woman's Department.

After a performance of Les Huguenots we all left that night for St. Louis. The temperature was now intolerable, the thermometer marking 75 degrees. But on reaching St. Louis the following Monday afternoon we were overtaken by a blizzard. It was literally raining ice. The streets were impassable, it being difficult to stand upright or to move a step; whilst the thermometer stood 30 degrees below zero (62° below freezing point)—being a fall of 105 degrees. I need scarcely say everyone caught sore throat, even to the chorus. One or two of the ballet girls were blown down and hurt on leaving the train, and it was with considerable difficulty that I made a commencement that evening, two hours after our arrival, with a performance of La Sonnambula. This was followed by Semiramide with Patti and Scalchi, and by Lucrezia with Fursch-Madi. All the artists not taking part in these works were ill in bed during the week.

Prior to our leaving St. Louis a magnificent banquet was tendered to me by the Directors of the newly-organized Opera Festival Association of Chicago. The day originally fixed was the Wednesday during that week; but it had afterwards to be transferred to Thursday, all the trains to Chicago being snowed up, whilst several thousands of freight cars blocked the line for miles. I ventured after the performance on the only train allowed out of the station for Chicago, where I arrived the following day, and visited the huge glass building, formerly the exhibition, where I marked out what I considered would be the dimensions necessary for the construction of the New Grand Opera-house. In doing so I must have rather miscalculated my measurements, as I was shortly afterwards informed that if carried out the theatre would be a mammoth one.

In the evening I attended the banquet given in my honour, which was laid for fifty covers in the large room of the magnificent Calumet Club. The banqueting hall was picturesquely decorated with flowers. The tables were curved in the form of a huge lyre, bearing the coat of arms of the Association.

At the head of the table, which formed the base of the lyre, sat the President, Ferd. W. Peck, and at his right hand I was placed as the guest of the evening. Next to me was the Mayor, and next him the Hon. Emery A. Stores, the Vice-President of the Association. At President Peck's left hand sat the Hon. Eugene Carey and George Schneider, the treasurer of the newly-formed Association. All the city notabilities, more or less, were present on this occasion. At the conclusion of the banquet the President rose, introducing me as "The Napoleon: the Emperor of Opera," giving at the same time a brief outline of the work proposed to be accomplished. My speech was a very short one. I said: "After twenty-four years' experience in the rendition of opera I feel that my greatest success is about to be achieved here in Chicago. Never before have such opportunities been afforded me. I have this morning been over the Exposition building with an architect, and have fixed upon a large, comfortable auditorium. I also visited the hall where the extra chorus was practising, and I must say I was surprised at its excellence in every way. Never have I heard a better chorus, even in the Old World."

The Mayor afterwards rose and paid me the highest compliments.

In the small hours of the following morning, when we separated, I went to the station and thence returned to St. Louis.

At the close of the week we left St. Louis with the whole of the troupe, some 180 strong, reaching Kansas City late that evening. Most of the members of the Company went to the Coates House, Mdme. Patti, however, remaining in her private car, where the following day I paid her a visit. No sooner had I entered than we were shunted and sent some four miles down the line, much to the surprise of Nicolini, who had been speaking to me on the platform but a moment previously. We were detained a considerable time, and Mdme. Patti experienced a great shock as suddenly a goods truck, which had got uncoupled, came running down. This caused a great concussion, which broke most of the glass, and sent Nicolini's cigars, jams, the parrot, the piano, the table, and the flowers all pell-mell on to the floor. Mdme. Patti, however, took it in good part, and, assisted by her maids, commenced gathering up the broken ornaments and smashed bottles. The floor ran with Château Lafite.

Mdme. Patti visited the opera that evening, the Mayor of the town conducting her down the passage way to her proscenium box amidst such a storm of applause as is rarely heard in an Opera-house. Ladies burst their gloves in their enthusiasm, and men stood on their seats to get a view of the Diva. On reaching the box the audience rose and cried: "Brava!"

After the performance that night the train moved on in the direction of Topeka, where, through the politeness of the railway officials, I got Patti's car attached to the San Francisco express, which conveyed her to her destination in about three and a half days.

The rest of the Company remained in Topeka to give a performance of Il Trovatore, Mdme. Dotti being the "Leonora," Mdme. Scalchi "Azucena," De Anna the "Count di Luna," and Giannini "Manrico." The success was immense, the house being full, and the receipts reaching £700.

In connection with Topeka, I must mention rather a curious incident. We had exhausted our stock of wine in the train, and those artists taking part in the performance, on entering the hotel near the theatre where it was proposed to dine, were surprised and annoyed at having water placed before them; the baritone vowing, with a knife in his hand, that unless he could have a more stimulating beverage he would refuse to play the "Count di Luna" that evening.

Inquiry was made high and low, but there was not a drop of wine or spirits of any kind officially known to be in the town. Going along the street on my return to the hotel, I met a gentleman with whom I was acquainted, and through his kindness I was enabled to obtain from a medical practitioner a prescription. The prescription was in the Latin language, and the chemist evidently understood its meaning. There was no question of making it up. He simply handed me three bottles of very good hock.

At the conclusion of the opera, it being a most delightful evening, the various choristers and others made purchases of all kinds of comestibles, and it was a most ridiculous thing to observe some going down with chickens carried by the neck, others with cauliflowers and asparagus. The "Count di Luna" with a huge ham under his arm, and "Manrico" with a chain of sausages, took their provisions down to the cars to be cooked for supper, during which the train started for St. Joseph.

We reached St. Joseph the following day, where Mdlle. Nevada appeared in La Sonnambula, greatly pleasing the audience, which packed the theatre full.

We arrived the next afternoon at half-past four at Omaha, where we remained one day, my advance agent having failed to conclude any arrangements for our appearance there.

Shortly afterwards we started for Cheyenne, arriving in the Magic City, as it is called, in about a couple of days; when, to my great astonishment, no announcement whatever had been made of our visit, my advance agent again, for some unaccountable reason, having gone on the road towards San Francisco without notifying even a word.

Our coming there was quite an unexpected event. Arrangements were immediately made to give a performance. This entailed a delay of a couple of days, which delighted me, although it caused some loss, as it enabled me to drive over the beautiful country and visit once more the charming Club, where I had a right royal welcome from my numerous friends of the previous year.

At four o'clock the 3rd Cavalry band, in full uniform, came to serenade me at my hotel.

The opera selected was Lucia di Lammermoor, and the receipts came to some £700.

At the close of the performance we started for Salt Lake City, where we arrived on the following Thursday. Here, to my great regret, I was compelled to change the bill in consequence of Mdlle. Nevada's indisposition, at which the inhabitants and the Press grumbled as if it were my fault. Reports of course were circulated that she had not received her salary.

Whilst at Salt Lake City many of the artists and orchestral players wandered about, visiting various places of interest; and some were attracted to a restaurant kept by one "Coffee John," in whose window was exposed a huge turtle, bearing this tragic inscription on its head: "This afternoon I am to have my throat cut;" whilst on its back was a ticket for a private box, with the statement that Coffee John had paid 40 dollars for it, and was going to visit the opera that evening.

In order to patronize this enthusiastic amateur several of our principal artists went in and ordered luncheon. Coffee John was very polite, promising to applaud them on hearing them sing, and allowing many of them to go into the kitchen to prepare their own macaroni. The price of the luncheon was very moderate, so everyone decided to go and dine at Coffee John's later on.

When dinner was over they asked the waiter how much they had to pay.

"Six dollars a head," said the waiter.

"Corpo di Bacco!" exclaimed one of the artists; "dat is too dear. Where is Coffee John, our friend, our friend?"

"He has gone to dress for the opera," replied the head waiter, "and I dare not disturb him."

As there were twelve diners the bill came to 72 dollars, so that Coffee John, who had paid 40 dollars for his box, occupied it for nothing that evening, and profited, moreover, largely by the transaction. The waiter told the astonished artists that his governor had paid 40 dollars to hear them sing without kicking, and that he expected liberal treatment in return; finally, he thought the best plan for them would be to pay their six dollars each and clear out; which they eventually had to do.

Mdlle. Nevada had taken cold at Cheyenne, and contracted what turned out to be a severe illness; and I lost her services for no less than four weeks afterwards.

The night before we reached Salt Lake City Mdme. Scalchi's parrot died, which caused the excellent contralto to go into hysterics and take to a bed of sickness. I had announced Il Trovatore, in which the now despondent vocalist was to have taken the part of the vindictive gipsy. This I considered would amply compensate for the absence of Nevada. Only half an hour before starting for the theatre I was notified by Mdme. Scalchi's husband that she would be unable to appear that evening. I insisted, however, upon her going at all events to the theatre, as I considered the death of a parrot not sufficient reason for disappointing a numerous public. I threatened at the same time to fine her very heavily if she refused.

About an hour afterwards the call-boy came down, up to his waist in snow, to the door of my car—some little distance from the station—stating that Mdme. Scalchi had again gone into hysterics, and was lamenting loudly the loss of her beloved bird.

On my arriving at the theatre with another "Azucena," taken suddenly from the cars (this one was lamenting only that she had not dined), I found that it wanted but five minutes to the commencement of the overture. There was Mdme. Scalchi dressed as "Azucena," and it was impossible even to obtain possession of her clothing, for she was almost in a fainting condition. At last, however, she divested herself of her gipsy garments; and she was replaced by my new "Azucena," Mdlle. Steinbach.

After the opera was over we started for San Francisco.

On reaching Ogden early in the morning I received a telegram from San Francisco notifying Mdme. Patti's arrival there, but adding that she would not come out in Semiramide in conjunction with Mdme. Scalchi, though that was the opera announced for my opening night. La Diva wanted a night entirely to herself.

As every seat had been sold for the first performance, and places were at a high premium, I did not see how it was possible to make any alteration in the bill. I therefore declined. Towards the latter part of the following day, at Winnemucca, I got another telegram saying that Mdme. Patti would appear in Il Barbiere. This I declined, knowing that opera to be, in America at least, most unattractive. Nearly at every station did I receive telegrams, some of which I answered. At last I effected a kind of compromise by substituting Linda. This change caused me a loss of some £600 or £800.

On the road I had received a telegram from my auctioneer, the famous Joe Eldridge, desiring to know if he should reserve any seats or offer the whole to the public. I replied that not a single seat was to be reserved; he was to sell all. He took me at my word, and the following day I received a telegram that not only had he sold the whole of the pit and dress circle and boxes, but also the whole of the gallery for every night of the season, and that the premiums on the tickets alone amounted to something like £15,000 for the two weeks' season; and, although over 3,000 tickets of admission for every night of the whole season had been sold, the demand, instead of abating, kept on increasing. In many cases as much as 150 dollars per seat premium had been paid. The sale altogether surpassed that of the previous year.

I was afterwards informed by an eye-witness of the indefatigable exertions Joe Eldridge had gone through on the day of the auction. On entering the orchestra he first of all gave a graphic description of each of the different prime donne who were to take part in the season's performances, explaining also the enormous value the tickets would reach as soon as the whole of the Company arrived. He then, feeling warm, took off his hat. After a few lots had been sold he removed his cravat, afterwards his coat, followed later by his waistcoat and his shirt-collar, which he threw off into the stalls. Then, as the business became more exciting, off went his braces. Afterwards he loosened his shirt, tucking up both sleeves; and he was in a state of semi-nudity before he got rid of the last lot.

On leaving the theatre after the sale this highly esteemed gentleman, I regret to say, was attacked by pneumonia, which carried him off in a few hours. His death was a sad shock to all, for he was a general favourite.

The San Francisco Daily Report wrote on the subject:—

"Joe Eldridge arrived in San Francisco in 1849, and after visiting various parts of the State returned to San Francisco, in the house of Newhall and Co. About this time he lost his right leg in a very remarkable manner. He was in the habit of signalling each sale by a hearty slap of his hand on his right thigh at the word 'gone.' The constant concussion brought on a cancer, and the leg had to be amputated. This misfortune, which would have depressed most men, more or less, for the rest of their lives, had no effect on his energy or his high spirits. He was a most charitable man, and beloved by all who knew him, being one of the founders of Mill's Seminary, whilst he was a pillar of strength at Dr. Stone's first Congregational Church."

One word as to Joe Eldridge's method of doing business. No one could get such prices as he obtained; and these he often secured by pretending to have heard bids which had never been made.

"Nine dollars," an intending purchaser would say.

"Ten dollars," Joe would cry.

"I said nine," the bidder would explain.

"Eleven!" shouted Joe. "I know your income, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Twelve!" he would then exclaim, supported and encouraged by the laughter and applause of the public. "And if you say another word I'll make it thirteen."

A very different sort of man was the auctioneer by whom poor Eldridge was succeeded. He called me the spirited "impresio," and sang the praises of Mdme. Bauermeister, whose name he pronounced "Boormister," and Mdme. Lablache, whom he described as the famous "Labiche." Rinaldini was another of my singers whose name, sadly as he mutilated it, had evidently taken his fancy. Mdme. Bauermeister, Mdme. Lablache, and Signor Rinaldini are excellent artists. But it was a mistake to insist so much on their merits while passing over altogether those of Mdme. Patti, Mdlle. Nevada, and Mdme Scalchi.

In due course we arrived at San Francisco, where the usual crowd was awaiting us. During the latter part of the journey one of my corps de ballet became seriously indisposed, and died the following Tuesday in St. Mary's Hospital. She was but sixteen years of age, and had been with me eight years, being one of my Katti Lanner school children. She had taken cold in the dressing-room at Cheyenne. During the journey, the train being twenty-three hours late, she received the attention of Dr. Wixom, Mdme. Nevada's father, also of Dr. Palmer, Mdme. Nevada's present husband.

On the day of the funeral some magnificent offerings were placed on the coffin, consisting of pillows of violets with the initials of the deceased, anchors of pansies, lilies, violets, roses, etc., likewise a beautiful cross of violets and camellias. I attended the funeral personally, accompanied by my stage manager, Mr. Parry, and seven of the ballet girls, including a sister of the dead girl, who all carried flowers. The affair was strictly private, the experience of the previous year suggesting this on account of the crowd on the former occasion. The whole of the flowers were afterwards placed upon the grave; and a celebrated photographer, I. W. Tabor, produced some beautiful pictures which I sent to London to the family of the deceased, who received them before the news of her death.

At the conclusion of the funeral, which had been conducted by Mr. Theodore Dierck, of 957, Mission Street, the spirited undertaker begged to be appointed funeral furnisher to the Company, he having had charge of the Lombardelli interment in the previous year, which, he said, "gave such satisfaction;" and I was not astonished, though a little startled, on my last visit to find over his shop this inscription:

"Funeral furnisher by appointment to Colonel Mapleson."

CHAPTER VIII.

FOR our opening night at San Francisco, as already explained, the opera substituted at Mdme. Patti's request for Semiramide was Linda di Chamouni. Of course the house was crowded, and the brilliancy of the occupants of the auditorium baffled all description. An assembly was there of which the city might well feel proud. The costumes worn by the ladies were mostly white. The leaders of fashion were, of course, all present; Mrs. Mark Hopkins, of Nobs' Hill, conspicuously so, as she was attired in a costume of black velvet, with diamond ornaments, the value of which was estimated at 200,000 dollars. The best order prevailed. The majority entering the theatre on the opening of the doors were accommodated in their various seats without any crushing. Patti was greeted with even more demonstrativeness than she had hitherto received. Mdme. Scalchi on entering must have felt proud that she was none the less welcome for appearing as "Pierotto" in lieu of "Arsace."

Notwithstanding all this there was a coolness about the house in consequence of Mdme. Patti's having insisted upon this change in the opera. Consequently numbers of tickets for the first night instead of being at a premium were sold at a discount. Mdme. Nevada was announced for the second evening, but, unfortunately, she had not yet recovered from her Cheyenne cold, which developed gradually almost to pneumonia. She kept her bed in San Francisco for over three weeks, causing me the greatest annoyance as well as loss, since I was obliged to engage Mdme. Patti to sing a great many extra nights beyond her contract, all of which, of course, I had to pay for. Il Trovatore was consequently performed the second evening in lieu of La Sonnambula. The following night I brought out La Favorita with Scalchi, De Anna, Giannini, and Cherubini, which was a great success; followed by Lucrezia Borgia, in which Fursch-Madi pleased the audience.

These changes and disappointments tended to mar the whole engagement. The following night, however, the opera boom really commenced, the work being Semiramide, which fully justified the anticipations that had been formed of it. The largest and most brilliant audience ever gathered in a theatre were there to hear Patti and Scalchi sing in two of the most difficult rôles in the whole range of opera.

Scalchi fairly divided the honours of the evening with Mdme. Patti; and in the duets they electrified the audience, who, not content with encoring each, insisted upon some half-dozen recalls. The stage was literally strewn with flowers; and the ladies of the audience vied with one another in the elegance of their toilettes. Not only were all the seats occupied, but even all the standing room, and the Press unanimously accorded me the next morning the credit of having presented the best operatic entertainment in that distant city the world of art could afford.

A similar audience greeted Patti and Scalchi at the performance of Faust the following week, whilst on the next Saturday Mdme. Patti appeared as "Annetta" in Crispino e la Comare, which is, without doubt, her best part.

About this time the auction took place for the second season of two weeks, which I determined to commence the following Monday. The particulars of this I have already given.

The proceeds were very handsome, but nothing like those of the previous sale. I decided, therefore, that all unsold tickets should be disposed of at the box-office of the theatre in order that the general public might have an opportunity of attending the opera prior to our departure.

During the following week, being the first of this extra season, Mdme. Patti appeared in Semiramide, La Traviata, and Martha. At each performance there were nearly 3,000 persons assembled in the theatre. On the following Monday, it being our last week, I induced Mdlle. Nevada to make her first appearance, on which occasion the receipts reached the same amount as Mdme. Patti's. Mdlle. Nevada, perhaps because she is a Californian, drew probably the largest audience we had had.

On her entering the stage some 3,000 or 4,000 persons shouted and applauded a welcome as if they were all going mad. She was hardly prepared for her reception. She had looked forward for many years to appearing in her native city and singing a great rôle before the people amongst whom she had spent her early life; and this was a momentous occasion for her. The enthusiasm of any other public would have spurred her on. But she was here so much affected that, although she sustained herself splendidly, yet after the curtain fell she was unable to speak.

At the conclusion of the opera she was recalled several times, and large set pieces of flowers, some six feet in height, were handed up, numbers of the leading florists having been busy putting them in shape all the fore part of the day. New dresses were ordered for that occasion, and an invitation to get a seat in a box was looked upon as a prize.

Long before half-past seven the vestibule of the theatre held a mass of fashionably-dressed ladies and gentlemen, all waiting to be shown to their places in order to be present on the rising of the curtain.

During all the first act the singer was critically and attentively listened to, scarcely with any interruptions; but when the curtain fell after the duet with "Elvino" the pent-up enthusiasm of the audience broke loose. Nevada was called out, and with shouts, cries, and every manner of wild demonstration. Flowers were carried down the aisles, thrown from the boxes and dress-circle, until the stage looked like the much-quoted Vallambrosa. Again and again the prima donna was called out, until she was fairly exhausted. Amongst the set pieces handed up to the stage was a large floral chair built of roses, violets, and carnations on a wicker frame, and Nevada, as the most natural thing to do, sat plumply down in it, whereat the house fairly howled with delight. On the back of the chair were the words, "Welcome home!"

The following night Aida was performed with the great cast of Patti, Scalchi, De Anna, and Nicolini, when the largest receipt during the whole engagement was taken. To describe that evening would be impossible; it would exhaust all the vocabulary. The gratings along the alley-way were wrenched off by the crowd, who slid down on their stomachs into the cellars of the theatre to get a hearing of Patti and Scalchi.

On this day we discovered the "Chinese swing," of which so much was said in the papers, and which had, doubtless, been in operation throughout the season. In the alley-way leading to the theatre is a lodging-house facing a sort of opening into the building used for ventilation. An ingenious fellow had rigged up a swing, and so adjusted it that he could toss people from his house on to the roof of the theatre to the ventilation hole. Once there, the intruder passed downstairs through the building, got a pass-out check on leaving it, which he immediately sold for two dollars, and then repeated the swing act again. We arrested one man who had performed the trick four times. The police had to cut the ropes and take the swing away.

So many devices were resorted to for entering the theatre without payment that I had to put it during this performance in a state of siege, as it were, and to close the iron shutters, as people came in from ladders through the windows of the dress-circle unobserved in many instances.

The following evening Mdlle. Nevada made her second appearance, performing the character of "Lucia" in Donizetti's opera, when the receipts were almost equal to those of the first night. Mdme. Patti performed the next night Il Trovatore to similar receipts. The next day I produced Gounod's Mirella, when the Grand Opera-house was again crowded brimful, people considering themselves lucky when they could get standing room without a view of the stage or a glimpse of the singers. The following morning was devoted to a performance of Faust, in which Patti took her farewell as "Margherita."

Just at this time a strange complaint was made against me by a body of "scalpers," who accused me of having put forward Adelina Patti to sing on a night for which Nevada had been originally announced. This I had, of course, done simply from a feeling of liberality towards my supporters. No one could reasonably accuse me of paying £1,000 a night to Mdme. Patti with the view of injuring the scalpers. They had, however, got more tickets into their hands than they were able to dispose of at the increased rates demanded by them. They, therefore, banded together, employed a lawyer to proceed against me for damages, and as a preliminary procured an order laying an embargo on my receipts.

The Sheriff's officers dropped into the gallery pay-box through a skylight on to the very head of the money-taker, who was naturally much surprised by this visitation from above; and they at once seized two thousand dollars.

It was very important for me not to let this money be taken, as it would have been impounded; and being on the point of taking my departure for Europe I should have been obliged to go away without it.

The only thing to do was to find securities—"bondsmen," as the Americans say. It was already nearly four o'clock (I was giving a so-called matinée that afternoon), and at four the Sheriff's office closed. I insisted on the money being counted, and one of the Sheriff's officers who was employed in counting it proposed in the most obliging manner to do the work very slowly if I would give him 50 dollars. This generous offer I declined, though it would have had the effect of giving me more time to find bondsmen. I soon, however, discovered seated in the theatre two friends who I knew would stand security for me. But it was necessary to find a Judge who would in a formal manner accept the signatures.

The performance was at an end, and fortunately there was at this moment a Judge on the stage in the act of making a presentation to Mdme. Patti, doing so, of course, in a set speech.

I did not interrupt the oration; but as soon as it was over, and whilst Mdme. Patti was weeping out "Home, Sweet Home" as if her heart would break, I presented to the Judge my two bondsmen. I at the same time took from my waistcoat pocket and handed to him my ink pencil, and he at once signed a paper accepting the bondsmen, together with another ordering the release of the sequestrated funds.

Armed with these documents, I drove post haste to the Sheriff's office, and got there at two minutes to four, just as the last bag of silver was going in. All the bags were now got out and heaped together in my carriage. The story was already known all over San Francisco. An immense crowd had assembled in front of the Sheriff's office, and as I drove off bearing away my rescued treasure I was saluted with enthusiastic cheers.

When a year later I returned to San Francisco I thought the case would possibly be brought to trial; but the lawyer representing the "scalpers" told me that he had been unable to get any money out of them, and that if I would give him a season ticket he would let the thing drop. The thing accordingly dropped.

On reaching Burlington on the Thursday morning following I was desirous of having a general rehearsal of L'Africaine, which was to be performed on the second night of the Chicago Opera Festival, and which had not been given by my Company during the previous twelve months. I could not rehearse it at Chicago, lest the public should think the work was not ready for representation. I resolved, therefore, to stop the train at Burlington in order to rehearse it at a big hall which I knew was there available. But lest news should get to the Chicago papers that the Company had stayed at Burlington merely for the purpose of rehearsing L'Africaine, I determined, if possible, to give a public performance, and on seeing the manager of the theatre, arranged with him for one performance of Faust. For five hours I rehearsed L'Africaine in the hall, and in the evening we had a most successful representation of Faust at the theatre. Dotti was the "Margherita," Scalchi "Siebel," Lablache "Martha," Del Puente "Valentine," Cherubini "Mefistopheles," and Giannini "Faust." There was no time for putting forward announcements by means of bills, and the fact that a performance of Faust was to be given that evening was made known by chalk inscriptions on the walls. The receipts amounted to £600. Patti honoured the performance with her presence in a private box, and a somewhat indiscreet gentleman, Dr. Nassau, paid her a visit to remind her that it was over twenty-nine years since she had sung under his direction at the old Mozart Hall, "Coming through the Rye," "The Last Rose of Summer," Eckert's "Echo Song," and "Home, Sweet Home." He substantiated his statements by one of the original programmes which he had brought purposely to show her. She received him coldly.

We left Burlington immediately after the night's performance, reaching Chicago the following Sunday morning, when I immediately paid a visit to the large Opera-house that had been constructed, and was astonished at its surpassing grandeur.

A vast deal had, indeed, been done, and still had to be done in the few remaining hours to complete it for the reception of the public, the building being one of the most stupendous, and the event one of the most brilliant Chicago had ever known. It was impossible to realize the magnitude of the task which had been undertaken, or the splendid manner in which it had been performed, the auditorium being probably one of the finest ever constructed for such a purpose. An increased chorus had been organized of 500 voices, whilst the orchestra had been augmented by a hundred extra musicians. A new drop curtain had been painted. The scaffolding was being removed from the ceiling, revealing decorations both brilliant and tasteful. The opening of the proscenium measured no less than 70 feet, with an elevation of 65 feet at the highest point of the arch, and a projection of 20 feet in front of the curtain. There were two tiers of proscenium boxes, and between the main balconies, which rose to a height of 30 feet, extending over and above the dress circle, there was a further space of 50 feet for standing accommodation in case of overcrowding. To ensure proper warmth the great auditorium was closed in, and all parts of the building supplied with steam pipes for heating, upwards of four miles in length. Amongst the features of the hall were two beautifully-arranged promenades or grand saloons, one decorated in the Japanese and the other in the Chinese style. Dressing-rooms for ladies and gentlemen had been constructed all over the building. The acoustic properties were simply perfect; sounding-boards, stage drop deflectors, and other scientific inventions being brought to bear.

The advance sale of seats on the first day of the opening reached over $50,000. In consequence of the vast size of the building new scenery had to be painted, which I entrusted to Mr. Charles Fox, with a numerous staff of assistants; this alone costing £6,000. Each scene was nearly 100 feet wide.

The house after the opening of the doors presented a surprisingly brilliant and attractive appearance, looking, in fact, like a permanent Opera-house. The orchestra was in excellent form, and numbered 155 musicians, under the direction of Arditi. The opera performed was Semiramide. The stage band and chorus numbered some 450, and there were 300 supernumeraries; so that when the curtain rose the effect was most magnificent. The audience was worthy of the occasion. There must have been over 5,000 people seated and some 4,000 or 5,000 standing. There were 80 ushers to attend to the occupants of the stalls; and at the commencement of the overture there was not one vacant seat. At the close of each act many of the vast audience repaired to the promenade and refreshment-rooms, to be recalled to their places by six cavalry trumpeters who came on the stage to sound a fanfare prior to the commencement of each act.

A leading daily paper wrote, the following morning:—

"The promises made by the Festival Association have been fulfilled to the letter, and the great temple of Art stood ready for the thousands for whom it was built. Not a single pledge made in reference to this building but what has been discharged, and the Manager is entitled to the thanks, and, indeed, the gratitude of the refined and music-loving classes of this community for the very thorough and self-sacrificing way in which all essentials and minor details of comfort and convenience have been achieved."

On the second night L'Africaine was performed, when a similar gathering attended. The audience was just as brilliant as on the previous evening, everyone being in full evening dress. Mdme. Fursch-Madi gave an effective interpretation of the title rôle, De Anna as "Nelusko" created quite a sensation, and Cardinali was an admirable Vasco di Gama.

On the third evening Gounod's Mirella, an opera never before heard in Chicago, was chosen for the first appearance of Mdlle. Nevada, and given with immense success, the part of the gipsy being taken by Mdme. Scalchi. This was followed on Thursday night by Linda di Chamouni, in which Mdme. Patti and Mdme. Scalchi appeared together. The Semiramide night had been thought a great one, but the audience on this occasion consisted of probably 2,000 more. Where they went to or where they stood it was impossible to say. Certain it is that 9,000 people paid for seats, irrespective of those who remained standing.

On the following evening Mdlle. Nevada appeared as "Lucia," and scored another triumph; whilst Patti and Scalchi drew 11,000 persons more for the morning performance. This was really a day for memory. The attendance consisted mostly of ladies, all tastefully, and often elaborately, dressed in the very latest fashion. Weber's Der Freischütz was performed in the evening, which terminated the first week of the Festival.

The second week we opened with La Sonnambula to an audience of some 8,000 persons, the next night being devoted to the presentation of Verdi's Aida, with the following great cast:—

Some 12,000 people attended this performance. The disagreeable weather did not seem to keep anyone away, and the streets were blocked with carriages for many squares, as far as the eye could reach. I was assured afterwards by an inspector that but for the aid of the rain, which came down in sheets, it would have been impossible to cope with the vast crowds who still poured in, attempting to enter the building.

About this time a complaint came to me from behind the scenes that Mdme. Patti and Mdme. Scalchi were unable to force their way from their dressing-rooms on to the stage, the wings and flies being crowded with some 2,000 persons, who during the first act had been joining in the applause of the singers with the audience in front. Together with these were some 500 supernumeraries with blackened faces, in oriental garb, chasing round to try to find their places, others with banners arranging their dresses. At length, with the aid of the police, Mdme. Patti was enabled to leave her dressing-room, but was surrounded immediately by crowds of ladies with pens and ink and paper, requesting autographs just as she was going on to sing her scena.

The boxes of the house were filled to overflowing, some containing as many as twelve persons. The flowers on the arm-rests in front were of the most expensive kind.

The march in the third act was really most impressive. There were 600 State Militia on the stage, each Company marching past in twelves, the rear rank beautifully dressed, the wheels perfect. The finale of the act, with the military band and the 350 extra chorus, together with the gorgeous scenery and dresses, was something long to be remembered. Well might the audience cheer as it did on the fall of the curtain.

The following night Rigoletto was given, then Il Trovatore, and the night after that Lohengrin.

At the close of the second act of Lohengrin there came a call from all sides of the house, and I was compelled to appear before the curtain, when I addressed the audience in the following words:—

"Ladies and gentlemen,—I am rather unprepared for the flattering compliment which you pay me in thus calling for me. I assure you that I join with you in my appreciation of the successful termination of this opera season, and I can bestow nothing but the most cordial thanks for the liberal support which the people of Chicago have given their Opera Festival. It is an evidence of their taste, and I hope will prove the forerunner of many more similar meetings. (Applause.) There are several persons who deserve special mention and thanks, but I shall have to be content simply with testifying to the earnestness of purpose with which all have laboured who were in any wise connected with the Festival. I therefore thank them all. It is no small thing to present thirteen different operas in two weeks' time, yet the attendance and manifestations of appreciation on the part of the audience will justify me in claiming that success has crowned my efforts; and the knowledge that we have given you all we promised and have satisfied you repays us for all our work."

President Peck likewise came forward and thanked the people of the city for their generous attendance at the first Opera Festival. It had been a success in every respect, and the management had done its best to accommodate and please the public.

A leading journal, in giving a review of the Opera Festival, said:—

"The Great Operatic Festival is now over, and only the memories of its magnificence and importance are left. The last note has been sung at the Chicago Operatic Festival, without doubt the greatest musical undertaking that has ever been accomplished anywhere. In no great city of Europe or America could 190,000 people have been able to attend the opera in two weeks. In the first place, the accommodations of even the largest Opera-houses are not such that 10,000 people could be present at any one performance. The Operatic Festival Association have been untiring in their earnest endeavours to present all the operas in the best possible manner. Each performance has been given as announced, and the casts have been uniformly good. Thirteen operas have been produced, all of which were mounted in a manner never before equalled. Many of the stage pictures, as in Semiramide, Mirella, L'Africaine, Aida, and Faust, have been simply superb, and will be long remembered for their beauty. The pictorial charm of the scene on the banks of the Nile in Aida was also most poetic. The processions, and the way in which they were controlled, indicated that the stage manager was a man of taste and ability."

Prior to my departure, 18th April, 1885, my attendance was requested by the Mayor, Mr. Carter H. Harrison, at the City Hall, when I was amply repaid for all the labour I had bestowed upon the Festival by the magnificent presentation which was then made me, and which I value more than anything of the kind I have ever received. It was nothing less than the freedom of the City of Chicago—a compliment I can say with safety that has never been paid to any other Englishman, and what is more, is never likely to be. Chicago, as everyone at all connected with America must know, will within a very few years be the first city in the United States, and probably in the world.

The success of the Chicago Festival was due in a great measure to the personal efforts of Ferdinand W. Peck, the President, from whom I immediately afterwards received a notification to attend the final committee meeting, when the following testimonial was presented to me, magnificently engrossed on parchment:—

At a Meeting of the
CHICAGO OPERA FESTIVAL ASSOCIATION
held April 18th, 1885,
The following Resolution was unanimously adopted:
Resolved
That the Chicago Opera Festival Association
Recognizes the satisfactory manner in which
COLONEL JAMES HENRY MAPLESON
has fulfilled his obligations under his contract with
this Association,
And they desire to express their high appreciation
of his liberality in the presentation of all the operas
produced, without which the grand success of the
FESTIVAL
could not have been achieved. In attestation of
the above the Officers and Board of Directors have
hereunto subscribed their names:

FERD. W. PECK, President,
WILLIAM PENN NIXON, Vice-President,
LOUIS WAHL, Second Vice-President,
A. A. SPRAGUE
GEORGE M. BOGUE
EUGENE CAREY
HENRY FIELD		directors.
R. T. CRANE
JOHN R. WALSH
GEORGE F. HARDING
GEORGE G. SCHNEIDER, Treasurer.
S. G. PRATT, Secretary.

"ADDRESS
"Tendered to Col. J. H. Mapleson by the Musicians and Citizens of the City of Chicago.

"SIR,—Now since the last note has died away, and lingers only in the ear of memory to warm and cheer the heart, and the great musical triumph of our city, the Chicago Opera Festival, is over, we extend to you in these words what we had expected to say to you amid music and song, had not the manifold duties that engrossed your time rendered us unable to do so.

"It is, indeed, as musicians, lovers of music, and citizens that we can cordially thank you in the name of the mighty people of that great and haughty city, the Queen of the North and the West. For this city, whose history has been the wonder of the world, whose greatness and energy in all things in which it engages are acknowledged by all, now yields this tribute to you, sir, as the one by whose direction, management, enterprise, and energy the greatest musical success ever given within its walls was accomplished.

"We might say more, but in our city's characteristic mode we express by deeds far better than by words. For two weeks our citizens night after night were turned away from the vast temple of music under your control, for the halls were crowded by others. They brought with them a hope that blossomed into unexpected realization, and the keen business men and tired toilers of the city lived a new life and shook the very ground with their applause.

"Never had music received such homage here. Again, we thank you for what you have done, and while we say farewell we also bid you welcome, for we hope to see you year after year in some vast Opera-hall in which ten thousand people can be seated, as proposed to be erected by some of our citizens, where you may win new laurels to your fame in your heaven-inspired mission of procuring and giving music for the people.

This may be the place to mention, what I am reminded of whenever I have to speak of America, the cordial, lavish hospitality with which English visitors are received in that country. Apart from the favour shown to me by railway and steamboat companies, who, so far as I was personally concerned, carried me everywhere free, the committees of the leading clubs offered me in all the principal cities the honours and advantages of membership. Not only was I a member of all the best clubs, but I was, moreover, treated in every club-house as a guest. This sometimes placed me in an awkward position. More than once I have felt tempted, at some magnificent club-house, to order such expensive luxuries as terrapin and canvas-back duck; but unwilling to abuse the privileges conferred upon me, I condemned myself to a much simpler fare. It seemed more becoming to reserve the ordering of such costly dishes for some future occasion, when I might happen to be dining at a restaurant.

It must be admitted that in many of the conveniences of life the Americans are far ahead of us, and ahead are likely to remain; so averse are we in England to all departures from settled habits, inconvenient, and even injurious as these may be. Every opera-goer knows the delay, the trouble, the irritation caused by the difficulty, when the performance is at an end, of getting up carriages or cabs. This difficulty has, in the United States, no existence.

When the opera-goer reaches the theatre an official, known as the "carriage superintendent," presents a large ticket in two divisions, bearing duplicate numbers. One numbered half is handed by the "carriage superintendent" to the driver. The other is retained by the opera-goer, who on coming out at the end of the representation exhibits his number, which is thereupon signalled or telegraphed to a man on the top of the house, who at once displays it in a transparency lighted by electricity or otherwise. The carriages are all drawn up with their hind wheels to the kerbstone, so that the approach to the theatre is quite clear. The illuminated number is at once seen, and the carriage indicated by it is at the door by the time the intending occupant is downstairs in the vestibule.

It is astonishing how easily this system works.

CHAPTER IX.

THE public are under the impression that the closest intimacies are contracted between vocalists in consequence of their appearing constantly together in the same works. Under the new system, by which the prima donna stipulates that she shall not be called upon to appear at any rehearsal, this possible source of excessive friendship ceases to exist. It now frequently happens that the prima donna is not even personally acquainted with the singers who are to take part with her in the same opera; and on one occasion, when Il Trovatore was being performed, I remember the baritone soliciting the honour of an introduction to Mdme. Patti at the very moment when he was singing in the trio of the first act. The "Manrico" of the evening was exceedingly polite, and managed without scandalizing the audience to effect the introduction by singing it as if it were a portion of his rôle.

To show that the stipulation I have just spoken of is made in the most formal manner, and to give a general idea of the conditions a manager is expected to accept from a leading prima donna, I here subjoin a copy of the contract between Mdme. Patti and myself for my season at Covent Garden in 1885:—

About the sum payable per night to Mdme. Patti by the terms of the above agreement I say nothing. Five hundred pounds a night was only half what I had paid her in the United States; and soon afterwards at Her Majesty's Theatre I myself offered to give the famous vocalist six hundred and fifty per night. The sting of the contract lies for the manager, pecuniarily speaking, in the clause which empowers the singer to declare herself ill at the last moment, while guaranteeing her against all the consequences sure to arise from her too tardy apology. The manager has suddenly to change the performance, and, worse by far, to incur the charge of having broken faith with the public; for however precisely the certificate of indisposition may be made out, there are sure to be some knowing ones among the disappointed crowd who will whisper, as a great secret known to them alone, that the prima donna has not been paid, and that the certificate is all a sham.

What an unfair clause, too, is that by which, if the manager does not pay in advance to the prima donna at the exact time prescribed the whole of the sum payable to her for all the performances she binds herself to give, he will by such failure render himself liable for the entire sum without the prima donna on her side being called upon to sing at all.

The clause liberating the prima donna from attending rehearsals will be condemned by all lovers of music. During the three or four years that Mdme. Patti was with me in America she never once appeared at a rehearsal. When I was producing La Gazza Ladra, an opera which contains an unusually large number of parts, there were several members of the cast who did not even know Mdme. Patti by sight. Under such circumstances all idea of a perfect ensemble was, of course, out of the question. It was only on the night of performance, and in presence of the public, that the concerted pieces were tried for the first time with the soprano voice. The unfortunate contralto, Mdlle. Vianelli, had never in her life seen Mdme. Patti, with whom, on this occasion, she had to sing duets full of concerted passages. At such rehearsal as she could obtain Arditi did his best to replace the absent prima donna, whistling the soprano part so as at least to give the much-tried contralto some idea of the effect.

In addition to the clauses in the prima donna's written engagement, there is always an understanding by which she is to receive so many stalls, so many boxes, so many places in the pit, and so many in the gallery. How, it will be asked, can such an illustrious lady have friends whom she would like to send to the gallery? The answer is that the distinguished vocalist wishes to be supported from all parts of the house, and that she is far too practical—high as may be the opinion she entertains of her own talents—to leave the applause even in the smallest degree to chance.

There are plenty of great singers—though Mdme. Patti is not one of them—who carry with them on their foreign tours a chef de claque as a member of their ordinary suite. Tenors are, at least, as particular on this score as prime donne; and if one popular tenor travels with a staff of eight, his rival, following him to the same country, will make a point, merely that the fact may be recorded in the papers, of taking with him a staff of nine.

Signor Masini, the modest vocalist who wished Sir Michael Costa to come round to his hotel and learn from him how the tempi should be taken in the Faust music, went not long since to South America with a staff consisting of the following paid officials: A secretary, an under-secretary, a cook, a valet, a barber, a doctor, a lawyer, a journalist, an agent, and a treasurer. The ten attendants, apart from their special duties, form a useful claque, and are kept judiciously distributed about the house according to their various social positions. The valet and the journalist, the barber and the doctor are said to have squabbles at times on the subject of precedence.

The functions of the lawyer will not perhaps be apparent to everyone. His appointed duties, however, are to draw up contracts and to recover damages in case a clause in any existing contract should seem to have been broken. The hire of all these attendants causes no perceptible hole in the immense salary payable to the artist who employs them; and the travelling expenses of a good number of them have to be defrayed by the unfortunate manager.

Only an oriental prince or a musical parvenu would dream of maintaining such a suite; and soon, I believe, the following of a vocalist with a world-wide reputation will not be considered complete unless it includes, in addition to the other gentlemen who wait upon the Masini's and the Tamagno's, an architect and surveyor.

It will perhaps have been observed that by one of the clauses of Mdme. Patti's engagement the letters of her name are in all printed announcements to be one-third larger than the letters of anyone else's name; and during the progress of the Chicago Festival, I saw Signor Nicolini armed with what appeared to be a theodolite, and accompanied by a gentleman who I fancy was a great geometrician, looking intently and with a scientific air at some wall-posters on which the letters composing Mdme. Patti's name seemed to him not quite one-third larger than the letters composing the name of Mdlle. Nevada. At last, abandoning all idea of scientific measurement, he procured a ladder, and, boldly mounting the steps, ascertained by means of a foot-rule that the letters which he had previously been observing from afar were indeed a trifle less tall than by contract they should have been.

I can truly say, "with my hand on my conscience," as the French put it, that I had not ordered the letters to be made a shade smaller than they should have been with the slightest intention of wounding the feelings or damaging the interests either of Mdme. Adelina Patti or of Signor Nicolini. The printers had not followed my directions so precisely as they ought to have done.

In order to conciliate the offended prima donna and her irritated spouse, I caused the printed name of that most charming vocalist, Mdlle. Nevada, to be operated upon in this way: a thin slice was taken out of it transversely, so that the middle stroke of the letter E disappeared altogether. When I pointed out my revised version of the name to Signer Nicolini in order to demonstrate to him that he was geometrically wrong, he replied to me with a puzzled look as he pointed to the letters composing the name of Nevada: "Yes; but there is something very strange about that E."

To return to my narrative. At the conclusion of the great Chicago Festival, we left, in the middle of the night, for New York, and reached it on Monday morning, where we opened with Semiramide to as large an audience as the Academy had ever known. On the Friday following, on the occasion of my benefit, the receipts reached nearly £3,000, the house being crowded from floor to ceiling.

At the close of the opera I was called before the curtain, and on quitting the stage, with Adelina Patti on my right and Scalchi on my left, I was met by Chief Justice Shea, who approached me and said—

"Colonel Mapleson, a number of our citizens who represent significant phases of social life and important business interests in this metropolis desire to testify in a public and notable manner that they understand and laud the superb success which has followed your efforts to establish Italian Opera in this city. It is seldom that public men are understood. It is very seldom that they are offered an acknowledgment beyond the few earnest friends that cluster around them. Those citizens to whom I refer recognize that your career amongst us has not been a mere chance success, but the result of patience, energy, and the intelligent courage which comes of ripe experience. They think this an apt occasion on which publicly to express the sincerity of that opinion. Sir, allow me on their behalf to offer you this memorial."

I was then handed a magnificent ebony case, fitted with a crystal glass, containing the following:—A valuable repeater watch set in diamonds, a gold chain with diamond and ruby slides, diamond and ruby charm in the shape of a harp, a pair of large solitaire diamond sleeve buttons, a diamond collar stud, a horse-shoe scarf pin (nine large diamonds), three diamond shirt studs, a gold pencil-case with a diamond top and a plain gold pin with a single diamond; the whole being valued at £1,300.

The ebony case and crystal glass I still possess. The contents, together with everything else, went to keep the Company together during the disastrous retreat from Frisco of the following year, as to which I will later on give details.

I thanked the Chief Justice briefly for the gift and the public for their patronage, and with difficulty left the stage amidst ringing cheers and waving of pocket-handkerchiefs: I say with difficulty, because at that critical moment, as I was picking up a bouquet, the buckle of my pantaloons gave way; and as my tailor had persuaded me, out of compliment to him, to discard the use of braces, it was only with great difficulty that I could manage to shuffle off the stage, entrusting meanwhile some of the jewellery to Patti and some to Scalchi.

At New York, as previously at Philadelphia, Chicago, and San Francisco, lively complaints were made of the vanity and levity of my tenor, Cardinali, who was an empty-headed, fatuous creature unable to write his own name or even to read the love-letters which, in spite, or perhaps in consequence of his empty-headedness, were frequently addressed to him by affectionate and doubtless weak-minded young ladies. Cardinali possessed a certain beauty of countenance; he had also a sloping forehead, and a high opinion of his powers of fascination.

At San Francisco he got engaged to a young lady of good family, who was one of the recognized beauties of the city. A date had been fixed for the marriage, and the coming event was announced and commented upon in all the papers. The marriage, however, was not to take place forthwith; and when my handsome tenor got to Chicago he was much taken by one of the local blondes, to whom he swore undying love.

At Philadelphia he got engaged to another girl, who became furiously jealous when she found that he was receiving letters from his Frisco fiancée. Not being able to decipher the caligraphy of the former beloved one, he entrusted her letters for reading purposes to the chambermaids or waiters of the hotel where he put up.

At New York Cardinali formed an attachment to yet another girl, who fully responded to his ardour. He used to get tickets from me in order that he might entertain his young women in an economical manner at operatic representations; and one day, when he had taken the girl whom he had met at New York to a morning performance, he asked permission to leave her for a moment as he had to speak to a friend. This friend turned out to be a lady with whom he had arranged to elope, and the happy pair left for Europe by a steamer then on the point of starting. He did not, as far as I know, change his partner during the voyage, and I afterwards lost sight of him.

We remained at New York a week, giving six extra performances, and left the following Sunday for Boston. There, too, we stayed a week, terminating the season on the 2nd May, on which day Mdme. Patti sailed for Europe, followed by the Company. These frequent voyages across the Atlantic were my only rests. They greatly invigorated me, bracing me up, as it were, to meet the fresh troubles and trials which were sure to welcome me on my arrival.

It was a most fortunate thing that the Directors of the Royal Italian Opera Company, Covent Garden, Limited, had thought proper to dispense with my services the previous year by reason of my having, in conjunction with their own general manager, engaged Mdme. Patti. Otherwise I should have been obliged to hand them £15,000, being half the net profit of this last American tour, to which, by the terms of our agreement, they would have been entitled.

I ascertained on my return that for want of £2,000 the Company had collapsed.

CHAPTER X.

ON my return to London I opened Covent Garden for a series of Italian Opera performances, in which Mdme. Patti was the principal prima donna, and but for Mdme. Patti's twice falling ill should certainly have made some money.

On the opening night I was notified as late as seven o'clock that Mdme. Patti would be unable to appear in "La Traviata," having taken a severe cold. This was a dreadful blow to me. On inquiry I found that madame's indisposition arose from a morning drive she had taken on the previous day over some Welsh mountains during the journey from her castle to the station. Signor Nicolini, either from fear of the bill at the Midland Hotel, where they were to put up, or from some uncontrollable desire to catch an extra salmon, had exposed la Diva to the early morning air; an act of imprudence which cost me something like a thousand pounds.

The season nevertheless promised to be unusually successful. But within a few days I met with another misfortune, la Diva having taken a second cold, of which I was not notified until seven p.m. There was scarcely time to make the news public before the carriages were already setting down their distinguished burdens before the Opera vestibule.

I had no alternative but to introduce a young singer who, at a moment's notice, undertook the difficult part of "Lucia di Lammermoor." I allude to the Swedish vocalist, Mdlle. Fohström, who afterwards made a very successful career under my management. Of course, on this occasion she was heavily handicapped, as people had gone to the theatre only for the purpose of hearing Mdme. Patti; whose two disappointments caused me considerable loss.

I ended my season about the third week of July, when Mdme. Patti appeared as "Leonora" in Il Trovatore, renewing the success which always attends her in that familiar impersonation.

On this night, the final one of the season, Mdme. Patti concluded her 25th consecutive annual engagement at Covent Garden. Numbers of her admirers formed themselves into a committee for the purpose of celebrating the event by presenting her with a suitable memorial, which consisted of a very valuable diamond bracelet. At the termination of the opera I presented myself to the public, saying—

"Ladies and Gentlemen,—Whilst the necessary preparations are being made behind the curtain for the performance of 'God Save the Queen,' I crave your attention for a very few moments. My first reason for doing so is, that I desire to tender my sincere thanks for the liberal support you have accorded my humble efforts to preserve the existence of Italian Opera in this country. When I state to you that I had barely ten days to form my present Company, including the orchestra and chorus, I feel sure you will readily overlook any shortcomings which may have occurred during the past season. My second reason is to solicit your kind consent to present to Mdme. Patti in the name of the Committee a testimonial to commemorate her twenty-fifth consecutive season on the boards of this theatre."

The curtain then rose, and disclosed Mdme. Adelina Patti ready to sing the National Anthem, supported by the band of the Grenadier Guards, in addition to the band and orchestra of the Royal Italian Opera. This was the moment chosen for the presentation of a superb diamond bracelet, subscribed for by admirers of the heroine of the occasion. Its presentation was preceded by my delivery of the following address from the Committee of the Patti Testimonial Fund:—

"Madame Adelina Patti,—You complete this evening your 25th annual engagement at the theatre which had the honour of introducing you, when you were still a child, to the public of England, and indirectly, therefore, to that of Europe and the whole civilized world. There has been no example in the history of the lyric drama of such long-continued, never interrupted, always triumphant success on the boards of the same theatre; and a number of your most earnest admirers have decided not to let the occasion pass without offering you their heartfelt congratulations. Many of them have watched with the deepest interest an artistic career which, beginning in the spring of 1861, became year after year more brilliant, until during the season which terminates to-night the last possible point of perfection seems to have been reached. You have been connected with the Royal Italian Opera uninterruptedly throughout your long and brilliant career. During the winter months you have visited, and have been received with enthusiasm at Paris, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Vienna, Madrid, and all the principal cities of Italy and the United States. But you have allowed nothing to prevent you from returning every summer to the scene of your earliest triumphs; and now that you have completed your twenty-fifth season in London, your friends feel that the interesting occasion must not be suffered to pass without due commemoration. We beg you, therefore, to accept from us, in the spirit in which it is offered, the token of esteem and admiration which we have now the honour of presenting to you."

The National Anthem, which followed, was received with loyal cheers, and the season terminated brilliantly.

After the performance an extraordinary scene took place outside the theatre. A band and a number of torch-bearers had assembled at the northern entrance in Hart Street, awaiting Mdme. Patti's departure. When she stepped into her carriage it was headed by the bearers of the lighted torches; and as the carriage left the band struck up. An enormous crowd very soon gathered; and it gradually increased in numbers as the procession moved on. The carriage was surrounded by police, and the procession, headed by the band, consisted of about a dozen carriages and cabs, the rear being brought up by a vehicle on which several men were standing and holding limelights, which threw their coloured glare upon the growing crowd, and made the whole as visible as in the daytime. The noise of the band and of the shouting and occasional singing of the very motley gathering, which was reinforced by all sorts and conditions of persons as it went along, awakened the inhabitants throughout the whole of the long route, which was as follows: Endell Street, Bloomsbury Street, across New Oxford Street and Great Russell Street, down Charlotte Street, through Bedford Square by Gower Street, along Keppel Street, Russell Square, Woburn Place, Tavistock Place, Marchmont Street, Burton Crescent, Malleton Place to Euston road, halting at the Midland Railway Hotel, where Mdme. Patti was staying. Along the whole of this distance the scene was extraordinary. The noise, and the glare of the coloured lights, and the cracking of fireworks which were let off every now and then, aroused men, women, and children from their beds, and scarcely a house but had a window or door open, whence peered forth, to witness the spectacle, persons, many of whom, as was apparent from their night-dresses, had been awakened from their sleep. Not only were these disturbed, but a number of horses were greatly startled at the unusual sound and noise. The procession, which left Hare Street just before midnight, reached the Midland Hotel in about half an hour, almost the whole distance having been traversed at a walking pace. When Mdme. Patti reached the Hotel she was serenaded by the band for a time, and more fireworks were let off. The great crowd which had assembled remained in Euston Road outside the gates, which were closed immediately after the carriages had passed through.

My season having thus terminated, I at once started for the Continent in order to secure new talent for the forthcoming American campaign.

For my New York season of 1885-6, after some considerable trouble, I succeeded in forming what I considered a far more efficient Company than I had had for the previous five years; except that the name of Adelina Patti was not included, she having decided to remain at her castle to take repose after her four years' hard work in America. I subjoin a copy of the prospectus:—

"ACADEMY OF MUSIC, NEW YORK.
Season 1885-86.
PRIME-DONNE—SOPRANI E CONTRALTI.

Madame Minnie Hauk, Madame Felia Litvinoff, Mdlle. Dotti, Mdlle. Marie Engle, Madame Lilian Nordica, Mdlle. de Vigne, Mdlle. Bauermeister, Madame Lablache, and Mdlle. Alma Fohström.

TENORI.

Signor Ravelli, Signor de Falco, Signor Bieletto, Signor Rinaldini, and Signor Giannini.

BARITONI.

Signor de Anna and Signor Del Puente.

BASSI.

Signor Cherubini, Signor de Vaschetti, Signor Vetta, and Signor Caracciolo.

DIRECTOR OF THE MUSIC AND CONDUCTOR.

Signor Arditi.

PREMIÈRE DANSEUSE.

Madame Malvina Cavalazzi.

The following were the promised productions:—

For the first time in New York Massenet's famous opera MANON: words by MM. H. Meilhac and Ph. Gille. Mr. Mapleson has secured the sole right of representation, for which M. Massenet has made several important alterations and additions. "The Chevalier des Grieux," Signor Giannini; "Lescaut," Signor Del Puente; "Guillot Morfontaine," Signor Rinaldini; "The Count Des Grieux," Signor Cherubini; "De Bretigny," Signor Caracciolo; "An Innkeeper," Signor de Vaschetti; "Attendant at the Seminary of St. Sulpice," Signor Bieletto; "Poussette," Mdlle. Bauermeister; "Javotte," Mdme. Lablache; "Rosette," Mdlle. de Vigne; and "Manon," Mdme. Minnie Hauk. Gamblers, croupiers, guards, travellers, townsfolk, lords, ladies, gentlemen, &c., &c. The action passes in 1721. The first act in Amiens; the second, third, and fourth in Paris. The last scene, the road to Havre.

Also Vincent Wallace's opera, MARITANA. For the first time on the Italian stage, by special arrangement with the proprietors. The recitatives by Signor Tito Mattei. "Don Cæsar de Bazan," Signor Ravelli; "The King," Signor Del Puente; "Don Josè," Signor De Anna; "Il Marchese," Signor Caracciolo; "La Marchesa," Mdme. Lablache; "Lazarillo," Mdlle. De Vigne; and "Maritana," Mdlle. Alma Fohström. Mdme. Malvina Cavalazzi will dance the Saraband.

Likewise Auber's FRA DIAVOLO. "Fra Diavolo," Signor Ravelli; "Beppo," Signor Del Puente; "Giacomo," Signor Cherubini; "Lord Allcash," Signor Caracciolo; "Lorenzo," Signor De Falco; "Lady Allcash," Mdme. Lablache; and "Zerlina," Mdme. Alma Fohström.

Ambroise Thomas' opera, MIGNON, will be also presented. "Mignon," Mdme. Minnie Hauk; "Wilhelm," Signor Del Falco; "Lothario," Signor Del Puente; "Laertes," Signor Rinaldini; "Frederick," Mdlle. De Vigne; "Giarno," Signor Cherubini; "Antonio," Signor De Vaschetti; and "Filina," Mdlle. Alma Fohström."

The list of singers, which I give above in extenso, would have done honour to any theatre in Europe. But, alas! the magic name of Patti not being included had at once the effect of damaging seriously the subscription. In addition to this, a strong leaning showed itself on the part of my New York supporters towards the German Opera at the Metropolitan House; while a newly-formed craze had been developed for Anglo-German Opera, or "American Opera," as it was denominated. The prospectus of the latter setting it forth as a "national" affair, everyone rushed in for it, and considerable sums of money were subscribed. Its projectors rented the Academy of Music where I was located. The upshot of it was that a considerable number of intrigues were forthwith commenced for the purpose, if possible, of wiping me entirely out. I will mention a few of them in order that the reader may understand the position in which I was placed. Just prior to leaving England, and after I had completed my Company, I was informed by the Directors that I should be called upon to pay a heavy rental for the use of the Academy, my tenancy, moreover, being limited to three evenings a week and one matinée.

Having made all my engagements, I was, of course, at their mercy, and it was with the greatest possible difficulty that I could even open my season, as they began carpentering and hammering every time I attempted a rehearsal. However, I succeeded in making a commencement on the 2nd of November with a fine performance of CARMEN, cast as follows:—

"Don José," Signor Ravelli; "Escamillo (Toreador)," Signor Del Puente; "Zuniga," Signor De Vaschetti; "Il Dancairo," Signor Caracciolo; "Il Remendado," Signor Rinaldini; "Morales," Signor Bieletto; "Michaela," Mdlle. Dotti; "Paquita," Mdlle. Bauermeister; "Mercedes," Mdme. Lablache; "Carmen" (a Gipsy), Mdme. Minnie Hauk.

The incidental divertissement supported by Mdme. Malvina Cavalazzi and the Corps de Ballet.

This was followed by an excellent performance of Trovatore, in which Mdlle. Litvinoff, a charming Russian soprano from the Paris Opera, made a successful appearance, supported by Lablache, De Anna, the admirable baritone, and Giannini, one of the favourite tenors of America, who after the Pira was encored and recalled four times in front of the curtain. I afterwards introduced Mdlle. Alma Fohström, who had made such a great success during my London season at the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden.

On the occasion of my attempting a rehearsal two days afterwards of L'Africaine, I found the stage built up with platforms to the height of some 30 feet, which were occupied by full chorus and orchestra.

Remonstrance was useless, the Secretary of the Academy being "out of the way," whilst the conductor, Mr. Theodore Thomas, was closed in and wielding the bâton with such vigour that no one could approach him. I said nothing, therefore. In spite of formidable obstacles, the march and the procession in the fourth act of the opera had to be rehearsed under the platform, and, as good luck would have it, the opera went magnificently.

Rehearsals of Manon had now to be attempted; but whenever a call was put up, so surely would I find another call affixed by the rival Company for the same hour; and as they employed some 120 choristers, who had about an equal number of hangers-on in attendance on them, the reader can guess in what a state of confusion the stage was.

The public has but little idea of the difficulties by which the career of an opera manager is surrounded. An ordinary theatrical manager brings out some trivial operetta which, thanks in a great measure to scenery, upholstery, costumes, and a liberal display of the female form divine, catches the taste of the public. The piece runs for hundreds of nights without a change in the bill, the singers appearing night after night in the same parts. The maladie de larynx, the extinction de voix of which leading opera-singers are sure now and then, with or without reason, to complain, are unknown to these honest vocalists; and if by chance one of them does fall ill there is always a substitute, known as the "understudy," who is ready at any moment to supply the place of the indisposed one.

The public, when it has once found its way to a theatre where a successful operetta or opéra bouffe is being played, goes there night after night for months, and sometimes years, at a time. The manager probably complains of being terribly over-worked; but all he has really to do is to see that some hundreds of pounds every week are duly paid in to his account at the bank. To manage a theatre under such conditions is as simple as selling Pears' Soap or Holloway's Pills.

The opera manager does not depend upon the ordinary public, but in a great measure upon the public called fashionable. His prices are of necessity exceptionally high; and his receipts are affected in a way unknown to the ordinary theatrical manager. Court mourning, for instance, will keep people away from the opera; whereas the theatre-going public is scarcely affected by it. The bill, moreover, has to be changed so frequently, so constantly, that it is impossible to know from one day to another what the receipts are likely to be.

What would one give for a prima donna who, like Miss Ellen Terry or Mrs. Kendal, would be ready to play every night? Or for a public who, like the audiences at the St. James's Theatre and the Lyceum, would go night after night for an indefinite time to see the same piece!

Finally, at a London Musical Theatre the prima donna of an Operetta Company, if she receives £30 or £40 a week, boasts of it to her friends. In an Italian Operatic Company a seconda donna paid at such rates would conceal it from her enemies.

CHAPTER XI.

TO return to my difficulties at the New York Academy of Music, I was at length compelled to rehearse where I could; one day at the Star Theatre, another at Steinway Hall; a third at Tony Pastor's—a Variety Theatre next door to the Academy.

In the midst of these difficulties I caught a severe cold and found myself one morning speechless. I was surprised that afternoon to find a bottle of unpleasant sticky-looking mixture left with the hall-keeper, accompanied by a letter strongly recommending it from an admirer, who had heard, with sorrow, that I had taken cold. Not liking the smell of it, I sent it to an apothecary's for analysis, when it was found to contain poison. Fortunately I had not tasted it.

Finding myself so heavily handicapped, I decided, pending the preparation of Manon, to get ready Auber's Fra Diavolo, which had to be rehearsed under the same difficulties. I, however, succeeded in producing it on the 20th November, and an excellent performance we gave. Fohström was charming as "Zerlina," and in the rôles of the two brigands, Del Puente and Cherubini were simply excellent. I have seen many performances of Fra Diavolo in London with Tagliafice and Capponi, whom I considered admirable; but on this occasion they were fairly surpassed in the brigands' parts by Del Puente and Cherubini. The part of "Fra Diavolo" was undertaken by Ravelli, and the scenery and dresses were entirely new; the former having been painted on the roof of the theatre, either late at night or early in the morning, with the finishing touches put in on the Sundays.

The majority of my stockholders were careful to remain away, thus leaving a very bare appearance in the proscenium boxes. They, too, were siding with the enemy, or had not quite recovered from the three-dollar assessment which they had been called upon to pay for Patti the previous year. All these intrigues, however, marked in my mind the future downfall of the Academy and its stockholders, the house being now "divided against itself."

I will quote from the Evening Post, a paper hostile to my enterprise, a criticism on the Fra Diavolo performance:—

"Fra Diavolo, as presented at the Academy last evening, was by far the most enjoyable performance given by Mr. Mapleson's Company for a long time. There was an element of brightness and buoyancy in the acting and singing of all the principals that admirably reflected the spirit of Auber's brilliant and tuneful score. Next Monday, when the season of German Opera opens at the Metropolitan with Lohengrin, there will be doubtless hundreds who will be unable to secure seats. All such we earnestly advise to proceed straight to the Academy next Monday, where Fra Diavolo will be repeated; not only because they cannot fail to enjoy this performance, since it is an entertaining opera entertainingly interpreted, but because Mr. Mapleson ought to be encouraged, when he undertakes to vary his old repertory.... Ravelli sang admirably last evening, and so did Fohström, who acted her part with much grace and dainty naïveté. Lablache, Del Puente, and Cherubini were unusually good and amusing. The Academy, we repeat, ought to be crowded on Monday next."

The production of Fra Diavolo gave great satisfaction. Meanwhile, I made another attempt to continue my rehearsals of Manon. Not only was I excluded from the stage by the hammering and knocking of this new Anglo-German Opera Company, but they turned one of the corners of the foyer into a kind of business office, where their chatterings greatly interrupted my rehearsals with pianoforte. These, at least, I thought, might be managed within the theatre.

On ordering an orchestral rehearsal at Steinway Hall the following morning I was surprised to find that Mr. Thomas and his orchestra had actually gone there before me; and I had to dismiss my principal singers, chorus, and orchestra for a couple of hours, when with difficulty I was enabled to make a short rehearsal.

This went on day after day much to my annoyance. The Directors now began troubling me to pay the rent; to which I replied that I would willingly do so as soon as they performed their portion of the contract by allowing me to rehearse.

About this time I was challenged to meet the Rev. H. Haweis, author of Music and Morals, in a discussion on Wagner to be held at the Nineteenth Century Club, at which a great number of the fashionables of New York were present. After a brief introductory address, Mr. Courtlaudt Palmer, President of the Club, introduced the Rev. Mr. Haweis. His paper was a running series of anecdotes about Wagner, many of them keeping the audience in a continual laugh. He then made an onslaught on Italian Opera, assuring the audience that its days were numbered, that Wagner for the future was the one composer of dramatic music, and that every support should be given to his works now being represented at the Metropolitan Opera-house.

When he had concluded I rose and said, "You have told us much about Wagner, but nothing about his music. I trust I am not unparliamentary when I say that if he is to be judged by the effect of his works on the public—works that have now been for years before the world—Wagner is an operatic failure, and that what the Rev. Mr. Haweis has told us about his operas is sheer nonsense. One question he puts to me is: 'Did I ever lose money by Wagner?' I say emphatically, 'yes.' I once brought over all the material for his trilogy, the Ring des Nibelungen, from Munich to London, where it was to have been produced (according to one of the conditions of the agreement) under the supervision of Wagner himself. The master did not come; but his work was produced under a conductor of his own choice, and when the series had been twice given about six thousand pounds had been lost.

"My time will come yet. I labour under many difficulties now; but when New Yorkers are tired of backing German and American Opera, and will only subsidize me with one per cent. of the millions they are going to lose, I will return and give them Italian Opera."

I remember an interesting and, I must admit, not altogether inexact account of my production of the Ring des Nibelungen being given in the Musical Journal of New York.

"The series," wrote the American journalist, "was given under the special patronage of the Prince of Wales, who loyally remained in his box from the rising to the going down of the curtain, although he confessed afterwards that it was the toughest work he had ever done in his life. When Wotan came on the darkened stage and commenced his little recitative to an accompaniment of discords the Prince took a doze, but was awakened half-an-hour later by a double forte crash of the orchestra, and, having fallen asleep again, was startled by another climax fifteen minutes afterwards, when he found Wotan still at it, singing against time. At the end of five weeks Mapleson's share of the losses was 30,000 dollars; and the Prince told him confidentially that if Wotan appeared in any more operas he should withdraw his patronage."

By dint of perseverance, together with the aid of various managers, I succeeded in producing Wallace's Maritana. I first performed it over in Brooklyn, where it met with the most unqualified success, nearly every piece of music being encored, while Ravelli roused the audience to frantic enthusiasm by a finely-delivered high C from the chest at the conclusion of "Let me like a soldier fall." On a third encore he sang it in English. I then returned to the New York Academy with this opera, thus fulfilling the second of my promises in the prospectus.

It wanted now but nine days to the conclusion of my season, and as I had given to the public, despite the grumbling and cavilling, all the singers announced in my prospectus, I strained every nerve to produce the last of my promised operas, which caused more difficulty than all the others put together. This was Manon, which I succeeded in placing on the stage with entirely new scenery and dresses, and with a magnificent cast.

Glad indeed was I to shake the dust off my feet on leaving the Academy, where during a course of some eight or nine years I had given the New York public every available singer of eminence, including Adelina Patti, Etelka Gerster, Albani, Fursch-Madi, Scalchi, Campanini, Aramburo, Mierzwinski, Galassi, De Anna, Del Puente, Foli, and other celebrities. I confess I was not chagrined when I gradually saw after a couple of seasons had passed the downfall of the Anglo-German-American Opera Company, which from the very beginning had failed to benefit musical art in any way. Not a single work by an American composer was given, the repertory being entirely made up of translations of German operas. I also read without any deep regret of the total break-up of the Academy with all its belongings. It is now the home of a "variety show."

This New York season of 1885 was a most disastrous one financially, as it necessitated my closing for nearly a fortnight in order that the promised productions should all be given. It was with great difficulty that I could start the tour, as every combination seemed to be against me.

However, I opened at Boston with Carmen early in January, 1886, to a crowded house; the other performances of that week being Fra Diavolo, Manon, Maritana, Traviata, and Carmen for a matinée, the receipts of which exceeded even those of its performance on the previous Monday.

During the second week Faust, Don Giovanni, Rigoletto, Martha, etc., were performed. We left the next day for Philadelphia, where we remained until the middle of the following week. From there we went on to Baltimore, Washington, Pittsburg, Chicago, opening in the last-named city very successfully with a performance of Carmen; when a violent scene occurred during the third act from which may be said to date the disastrous consequences which followed throughout the whole of the route; one paper copying from another, with occasional exaggerations, so that in every town we visited the public expected a similar disturbance. Hence a general falling off in the receipts.

It was in the middle of the third act, when "Don José," the tenor (Ravelli), was about to introduce an effective high note which generally brought down the house, that "Carmen" rushed forward and embraced him—why I could never understand. Being interrupted at the moment of his effect, he was greatly enraged, and by his movements showed that he had resolved to throw Madame Hauk into the orchestra. But she held firmly on to his red waistcoat, he shouting all the time, "Laissez moi, Laissez moi!" until all the buttons came off one by one, when she retired hastily to another part of the stage. Ravelli rushed forward and exclaimed, "Regardez, elle a déchiré mon gilet!" and with such rage that he brought down thunders of applause, the people believing this genuine expression of anger to be part of the play.

Shortly afterwards, on the descent of the curtain, a terrible scene occurred, which led to my receiving this letter the following morning:—

The following day I received this, other epistle:—

I had no option but to give the bond.

That evening Signor Arditi, on leaving the theatre, caught a severe cold, which confined him to his bed, developing afterwards into an attack of pneumonia. The assistant conductor, Signor Sapio, was attacked by a similar malady; also Mdlle. Bauermeister, who was soon indeed in a very dangerous condition.

The following evening Mdlle. Fohström appeared as "Lucia di Lammermoor," and met with very great success.

With much persuasion I induced Miss Hauk to reappear as "Carmen", replacing Ravelli by the other tenor, De Falco.

During the ensuing week Arditi's condition became worse and worse. As we were engaged to appear the following evening at Minneapolis we were compelled to leave him behind as well as various other members of the Company, who were also indisposed. Prior to my departure I saw the doctor, who informed me that he considered Arditi's case hopeless; on which I prepared a cable for his wife asking what was to be done with his remains. This I left confidentially with the waiter.

I managed to get with the remnants of my Company to Minneapolis, where a severe attack of gout developed itself, which confined me to my bed; I in turn being left behind whilst the Company went on to St. Paul.

On the Company leaving St. Paul I managed to join the train on its road to St. Louis, where we remained a week. On the last day of our stay there I was pleased to see Arditi again able to join the Company, though in a very delicate state. Mdme. Hauk arrived at St. Louis the last day we were there. The following week we performed in Kansas City, where for the opening we gave Carmen with Minnie Hauk, followed by Faust with Mdme. Nordica as "Margherita." The following night at Topeka we played Lucia di Lammermoor with Fohström.

During these lengthened journeys across the Continent to the Pacific Coast the whole of the salaries ran on as if the artists were performing regularly.

As a rule we all travelled together; but occasionally, when the distance between one engagement and the next was too great, and the time too short, we separated. Sometimes one town in which we performed was four or five hundred miles away from the next. In that case the train was either divided into two or into three pieces, as the case might be. For instance, when we left for Chicago the engineer saw that he was unable to get to that city in time for our engagement the same evening. He therefore telegraphed back to Pittsburg, and the railroad officials there telegraphed on to Fort Wayne to have two extra locomotives ready for us. Our train was then cut into three parts, and sent whizzing along to Chicago at a lively rate, getting there in plenty of time for the evening's performance. It was wonderful, and nothing but a great corporation like the Pennsylvania Railroad Company could accomplish such a feat. By leaving at two o'clock in the morning we arrived at four the same afternoon at our next destination, in ample time to perform that evening; my hundred and sixty people having travelled a distance of four or five hundred miles with scenery, dresses, and properties.

We afterwards visited St. Joseph and Denver, opening at the latter with Carmen on a Saturday at the Academy of Music. Early the next morning we decided to give a grand Sunday concert at the Tabor Opera-house; but as no printing could be done, and no newspapers were published, the announcements had to be chalked upon the walls. With some difficulty we got a programme printed towards the latter part of the day, but notwithstanding this short announcement, so popular was the Company that the house was literally packed full. We played at Cheyenne the following evening, afterwards visiting Salt Lake City, where we presented Carmen. The irascible Mr. Ravelli again showed temper, and by doing so caused great inconvenience. I replaced him by one of the other tenors of the Company.

Of course I was blamed for this. Ravelli, however, had declared himself to be indisposed, and I at once published the certificate signed by Dr. Fowler.

The opera went exceedingly well.

Immediately after the performance we started for San Francisco, where we arrived the following Sunday afternoon, opening with Carmen on the Monday night before a most distinguished audience. Signor Ravelli performed "Don José," but in a very careless manner, omitting the best part of the music. He made little or no effect, whilst Minnie Hauk, who had not recovered from her previous fatigues, obtained but a succès d'estime.

Meantime a sale of seats by auction, which had been held, was an entire fiasco.

The second evening Mdlle. Fohström made a most brilliant success. The third night was devoted to Massenet's Manon, in which Miss Hauk did far better than on the opening night. The following evening we performed La Traviata, in which Mdme. Nordica made her appearance, Signor Giannini undertaking the rôle of "Alfredo." During this time great preparations were being made for a production of L'Africaine. The whole of the scenery and dresses, even to the ship, had been brought to the Pacific coast, at a considerable outlay; no less than £900 being paid for overweight of baggage through transporting this costly vessel across the plains.

The performance was a fine one, and the work was rendered admirably throughout, the great ballets and the processions gaining immense applause.

In the meantime a great deal of unpleasantness was going on in the Company, which greatly crippled my movements, besides diminishing my nightly receipts.

Although Ravelli, who was really the cause of all the trouble, had been ill for nearly three weeks, he refused to sing any more unless his full salary were paid him for the whole of the time. This, of course, I refused, and law proceedings were the consequence.

De Anna, the baritone, had an engagement for the whole six months of our American tour; and there was a clause in his contract which provided that during the interval of eight days, about the latter part of December, whilst the Company was idle, the salary should be suspended. But on our resuming the tour Mr. De Anna immediately notified me that unless I paid him for those eight days he would stop singing. This was the commencement of my trouble with him. Prior to our arrival his salary was handed to him, half in cash, and half in a cheque payable at San Francisco. He presented his cheque at the bank before the money had been placed there, and notified me that in consequence of non-payment he refused to sing that evening. Thereupon the treasurer went down to his hotel with the money, which was only a small amount of some £50 or £60. But he refused to accept it and surrender the cheque. The money was again tendered to him, and again refused.

De Anna, following suit with Ravelli, immediately inserted an advertisement in the daily papers setting forth that the part of "Nelusko" in L'Africaine was one of the most arduous rôles in the répertoire of a baritone, and that he alone was capable of performing it; while he at the same time respectfully informed the public that he did not intend to do so.

In the production of L'Africaine, however, Del Puente undertook the rôle of "Nelusko," and met with signal success, so that the recalcitrant baritone was left out in the cold and not missed. This tended still further to rouse his ire, and he resorted to a series of daily statements of some kind or other with the view of discrediting the Opera.

It was, indeed, a trying matter to me. The baritone, De Anna, refused to sing, and Ravelli was in bed with a bad cold; so, too, was Mdlle. Fohström. News, moreover, arrived from Minneapolis that Mdme. Nordica's mother, who had been left there, was at the point of death. Nordica insisted on rushing off at a moment's notice to make the journey of five days in the hope of reaching her while she was yet alive; and the rest of the Company were in open rebellion.

The season, however, despite these almost insurmountable difficulties, was a complete artistic success; and the Company I presented to my supporters in San Francisco was one that would have done honour to any European Opera-house. But, again, the name of la Diva being missing, the patronage accorded me was of a most scanty kind. The wealthy and luxurious inhabitants of the suggestively named "Nobs' Hill" remained carefully away.

I managed, however, to give the twenty-four consecutive performances promised, together with three Sunday concerts, the penultimate performance being devoted to my benefit.

CHAPTER XII.

SAN Francisco, or Frisco, as the inhabitants pleasantly call it, is at the end of the American world; it is the toe of the stocking beyond which there is no further advance. For this reason many persons who go to Frisco with the intention of coming back do, as a matter of fact, remain. It is comparatively easy to get there, but the return may be difficult. It is obviously a simpler matter to scrape together enough money for a single journey than to collect sufficient funds for a journey to and fro; and the capital of California is full of newly-settled residents, many of whom, having got so far, have found themselves without the means of retracing their steps.

At the period of the operatic campaign conducted by me—which, beginning most auspiciously, ended in trouble, disaster, and a retreat that was again and again on the point of being cut off—contending railway companies had so arranged matters that access to San Francisco was easier than ever. The war of rates had been carried on with such severity that the competing railway companies had at last, in their determination of outstripping one another, reduced the charge for carriage from Omaha to Frisco to a nominal sum per head. £20 (100 dollars) was the amount levied for conveying a passenger to Frisco direct; but on his arrival at the Frisco terminus £19 was returned to him as "rebate" when he gave up his ticket.

The rates from Frisco to New York had also been considerably reduced; and it was not until, after a series of pecuniary failures, we were on the point of starting that, to our confusion and my despair, they were suddenly raised. I had a force of 160 under my command, with an unusual proportion of baggage; and this hostile move on the part of the railway companies had the immediate effect of arresting my egress from the city.

Ravelli, possibly at the suggestion of his oracular dog (who always gave him the most perfidious counsel), had laid an embargo on all the music, thus delaying our departure, which would otherwise have been effected while the railway companies were still at war. They seemed to have come to an understanding for the very purpose of impeding my retreat. Ravelli suffered more than I did by his inconsiderate behaviour, for he was entirely unable, with or without the aid of his canine adviser, to look after his own interests.

It must be understood that in America a creditor or any claimant for money, bonâ-fide or not, can in the case of a foreigner commence process by attaching the property of the alleged debtor. This may be done on a simple affidavit, and the matter is not brought before the Courts until afterwards.

All the foreigner can do in return is to find "bondsmen" who will guarantee his appearance at a future period, or, in default, payment of the sum demanded; and it has happened to me when I have been on the point of taking ship to be confronted by a number of claimants, each of whom had procured an order empowering him either to arrest me or to seize my effects. I used, therefore, on my way to the steamer, or it might be the railway station, to march, attended by a couple of "bondsmen" and a Judge. The "bondsmen" gave the necessary security, the Judge signed his acceptance of the proffered guarantee, and I was then at liberty to depart.

Once, as I have already shown, I had to suffer attachment of my receipts at the hands of a body of "scalpers," who, when I had liberated the money through the aid of two friendly "bondsmen" and a courteous Judge, abandoned their claim; though when next year I returned to Frisco they could, of course, had it not been absolutely groundless, have pressed it before the proper tribunal.

Among other extraordinary claims made upon me immediately after the affair of the "scalpers" was one for 400 gallons of eau de Cologne. Some such quantity had, it was alleged, been ordered for fountains that were to play in front of the Opera-house; but the dealers, in lieu of eau de Cologne, had furnished me chiefly with water of the country. They swore, however, that I really owed them the money they demanded, and an attachment was duly granted.

It was through the treachery, then, of the dog-fearing Ravelli that our misfortunes in Frisco were brought to something like a crisis. In seizing the music in which the whole Company had an interest the thoughtless tenor was, of course, injuring himself and preparing his own discomfiture. The effect of his action was in any case to stop for a time my departure. We had evacuated the city, and now found ourselves blocked and isolated at the railway station. The railways would not have us at any price but their own. The hotel keepers were by no means anxious for our return, and some of the members of my Company had a healthy horror of running up hotel bills they were unable to pay. This may in part at least have been inspired by the following notice which, or something to the same effect, may be found exhibited in most of the Western hotels:—

I had, counting principals, chorus, ballet, and orchestra, 160 persons under my care, and by the terms of the hotel notice just reproduced the penalties incurred by my Company, had they quartered themselves upon innkeepers without possessing the means of paying their bills, would have amounted in the gross to £16,000 in fines and eighty years in periods of imprisonment. It was evidently better to bivouac in the open than to run the chance of so crushing a punishment.

A deputation of the chorus waited upon me, saying that as their artistic career seemed to be at an end, it would be as well for them to take to the sale of bananas and ice creams in the streets; whilst others proposed to start restaurants, or to blacken their faces and form themselves into companies of Italian niggers.

Some of the female choristers wished to take engagements as cooks, and one ancient dame who in her early youth had sold flowers on the banks of the Arno thought it would be pretty and profitable to resume in Frisco the occupation which she had pursued some thirty or forty years previously at Florence.

All these chorus singers seemed to have a trade of some kind to depend upon. In Italy they had been choristers only by night, and in the day time had followed the various callings to which now in their difficult position they desired to return. All I was asked for by my choristers was permission to consider themselves free, and in a few cases a little money with which to buy wheelbarrows. I adjured them, however, to remain faithful to me, and soon persuaded them that if they stuck to the colours all would yet be right. For forty-eight hours they remained encamped outside the theatre. Fortunately they were in a climate as beautiful as that of their native land; and with a little macaroni, which they cooked in the open air, a little Californian wine, which costs next to nothing, and a little tobacco they managed to get on.

From the "Morning Call."

"The scene outside the Grand Opera-house looked very much like Act 3 from Carmen—about 100 antique and picturesque members of Mapleson's chorus and ballet, male and female, were sitting or lying on their baggage where they had passed the night. As these light-hearted and light-pursed children of sunny Italy lay basking in the sun they helped the hours to pass by card playing, cigarette smoking, and the exercise of other international vices. One could notice that there was a sort of expectant fear amongst them seldom seen in people of their class."

What above all annoyed them was that they were not allowed to go to their trunks, an embargo having been laid not only on my music, but on the whole of the Company's baggage. One of them, Mdme. Isia, wished to get something out of her box, but she was warned off by the Sheriff, who at once drew his revolver.

The Oakland steamer was ready to carry us across the bay to the railway station as soon as we should be free to depart. But there were formalities still to go through and positive obstacles to overcome. At last my anxious choristers, looking everywhere for some sign, saw me driving towards them in a buggy with the Sheriff's officer. I bore in my hand a significant bit of blue paper which I waved like a flag as I approached them. They responded with a ringing cheer. They understood me and knew that they were saved.

How, it will be asked, did the Company lose its popularity with the American public to such an extent as to be unable to perform with any profitable result? In the first place several of the singers had fallen ill, and though the various maladies by which they were affected could not by any foresight on my part have been prevented, the public, while recognizing that fact, ended at last by losing faith in a Company whose leading members were invalids.

One of the St. Louis papers had given at the time a detailed account of the illnesses from which so many members of my Company were suffering.

"An astonishing amount of sickness," said the writer, "has seriously interfered with the success of the Italian Opera. Fohström and Dotti sang during the engagement, but both complained of colds and sore-throats, and claimed that their singing was not near as good as it usually is. Minnie Hauk had a cold and stayed all the week in St. Paul. Mdlle. Bauermeister could not sing on account of bronchitis. Signor Belasco was compelled to have several teeth pulled out, and complained of swollen gums. Mdme. Nordica was sick, without going into particulars. Signor Rigo was sick after the same fashion. Signor Sapio was attacked by quinsy at Chicago, and returned to New York. Signor Arditi, the musical conductor, was confined to his bed with pneumonia. Mdme. Lablache had a bad cold and appeared with difficulty. Many of the costumes failed to appear because Signor Belasco, the armourer, was taken sick en route, and held the keys of the trunks."

The illness from which so many of the members of my Company were suffering might, in part at least, be accounted for by their reckless gaiety at St. Paul. The winter festival was in full swing, and the ice-palace and tobogganing had charms for my vocalists, which they were unable to resist. They went sliding down the hill several times every day. The ladies would come home with their clinging garments thoroughly wet. They caught cold as a matter of course, and the sport they had had sliding down hill took several thousand dollars out of my pocket.

Minnie Hauk was nearly crazy on tobogganing; so was Nordica. Signori Sapio and Rigo tried heroically to keep up with the ladies in this sport, and were afterwards threatened with consumption as a reward for their gallant efforts.

But it was above all the conflict between Ravelli and Minnie Hauk in Carmen that did us harm, for the details of the affair soon got known and were at once reproduced in all the papers. It has been seen that Mr. von Wartegg found it necessary to bring Ravelli before the police magistrate and get him bound over on a very heavy penalty to keep the peace towards Mdme. von Wartegg, otherwise Mdme. Minnie Hauk; and the case, as a matter of course, was fully reported.

What could the public think of an Opera Company in which the tenor was always threatening to murder the prima donna, while the prima donna's husband found himself forced to take up a position at one of the wings bearing a revolver with which he proposed to shoot the tenor the moment he showed the slightest intention of approaching the personage for whom he is supposed to entertain an ungovernable passion? "Don José" was, according to the opera, madly in love with "Carmen." But it was an understood thing between the singers impersonating these two characters that they were to keep at a respectful distance one from the other. Ravelli was afraid of Minnie Hauk's throttling him while engaged in the emission of a high B flat; and Minnie Hauk, on her side, dreaded the murderous knife with which Ravelli again and again had threatened her. Love-making looks, under such conditions, a little unreal. "I adore you; but I will not allow you under pretence of embracing me to pinch my throat!"

"If you don't keep at a respectful distance I will stab you!"

Such contradictions between words and gestures, between the music of the singers and their general demeanour towards one another, could not satisfy even the least discriminating of audiences; and the American public, if appreciative, is also critical.

With some of my singers ill in bed, others quarrelling and fighting among themselves on the public stage, my Company got the credit of being entirely disorganized, and at every fresh city we visited our receipts became smaller and smaller. The expenditure meanwhile in salaries, travelling expenses, law costs, and hotel bills was something enormous. The end of it all was that at San Francisco we found ourselves defeated and compelled to seek safety in flight.

We did our best at one final performance to get in a little money with which to begin the retreat; and I must frankly admit that the hotel-keepers on whom the various members of my Company were at this time quartered did their very best to push the sale of tickets, for in that alone lay their hope of getting their bills paid.

It has been seen that at one time I was threatened with a complete break-up: my forces seemed on the point of dispersing.

I succeeded, however, in keeping the Company together with the exception only of Ravelli, Cherubini, and Mdlle. Devigne, who afterwards started to give representations on their own account, and soon found themselves in a worse plight than even their former associates who had the loyalty and the sense to remain with me. After much aimless rambling they turned their heads towards New York, which, in the course of two months, they contrived by almost superhuman efforts to reach.

Before leaving, Ravelli, as I have shown, dealt me a treacherous blow by getting an embargo laid on my music as if to secure him payment of money due, but which was proved not to be owing as soon as the matter was brought before the Court. That there may be no mistake on this point I will here give exact reproductions of Ravelli's claim as set forth in due legal form, and of my reply thereto. Apart from the substance of the case, it will interest the reader to see that an American brief bears but little resemblance to the ponderous document known by that name in England. An American lawyer sets forth in plain direct language what in England would be concealed beneath a mass of puzzling and almost unintelligible verbiage. I may add that law papers in America are not pen-written but type-written, being thus made clear not only to the mind, but also to the eye. In America a lawyer arrives in Court with a few type-written papers in the breast-pocket of his coat. In England he would be attended by an unhappy boy groaning beneath the weight of a whole mass of scribbled paper divided into numerous parcels, each one tied up with red tape.

I will now give the documents in the case of Ravelli against Mapleson, which, after being heard, was dismissed, but which, in spite of the admirable rapidity of American law proceedings, caused me several days' delay, and, as a result, incalculable losses; for apart from the sudden rise in the railway rates I missed engagements at several important cities along my line of march.

"Superior Court City and County of San Francisco,
State of California.
"LUIGI RAVELLI, Plaintiff, v. J. H. MAPLESON,
Defendant.
"Complaint.

"Plaintiff above named complains of defendant above named, and for cause of action alleges:

"That between the 4th day of February 1886, and the 4th day of April 1886 the Plaintiff rendered services to the defendant at said defendant's special instance and request, in the capacity of an Opera singer.

"That for said services the said defendant promised to pay plaintiff a salary at the rate of twenty-four hundred dollars per month.

"That said defendant has not paid the said salary or any part thereof, and no part of the same has been paid, and plaintiff has often demanded payment thereof.

"Wherefore plaintiff demands judgment against the defendant for the sum of forty-eight hundred dollars and costs of suit and interest.

"FRANK & EISNER & REGENSBURGER,
"Attorneys for Plaintiff."

"State of California, City and County of San Francisco.

"LUIGI RAVELLI being duly sworn says that he is the Plaintiff in the above entitled action. That he has heard read the foregoing complaint and knows the contents thereof. That the same is true of his own knowledge except as to the matters therein stated on his information and belief and as to those matters he believes the same to be true.

"LUIGI RAVELLI

"Sworn to before me this 10th day of April 1886.

"SAMUEL HERINGHIE,
"Dep. Co. Clerk."

In reply to the above my attorney and friend, the invincible General W. H. L. Barnes, put in the following "answer and cross complaint":—

"In the Superior Court of the State of California in
and for the City and County of San Francisco.
"LUIGI RAVELLI, Plaintiff, v. J. H. MAPLESON,
Defendant.

"Now comes J. H. Mapleson defendant in the above entitled action by W. H. L. Barnes his attorney and for answer to the complaint of Luigi Ravelli the plaintiff in the above entitled action respectfully shows to the Court and alleges as follows:

"The defendant denies that between the 4th day of February A.D. 1886 and the 4th day of April 1886 or between any other dates plaintiff rendered services to the defendant at defendant's special instance or request or otherwise in the capacity of an opera singer or otherwise except as hereinafter stated.

"Defendant denies that for said alleged services or otherwise or at all this defendant promised to pay plaintiff the salary of twenty-four hundred dollars per month or any sum except as is hereinafter stated.

"Defendant admits that he has not paid the said plaintiff for his alleged services since the 4th day of February A.D. 1886; but he denies that the same or any part thereof is due to plaintiff from the defendant.

"And further answering the defendant alleges and shows to the Court as follows:

"That heretofore to wit on or about the 22nd day of July A.D. 1885 at the City of London, England, the plaintiff Luigi Ravelli and this defendant made and entered into a contract in writing in and by which it was agreed substantially as follows:—

"1st: That said Ravelli engaged as primo tenore assoluto for performances in Great Britain, Ireland, and the United States with the defendant, said engagement to begin at the commencement of the season about the 1st of November A.D. 1885 and to close at the end of the American season, the salary of said plaintiff to be twenty-four hundred dollars per month payable monthly. The said Ravelli agreed to sing in Concerts as well as in Operas, but not to sing either in public nor in private houses in the Kingdom of Great Britain, Ireland, or the United States during 1885-6 without the written permission of the defendant. The said plaintiff also agreed in and by said contract to conform himself to the ordinary rules of the Theatre, and to appear for rehearsals, representations, and concerts at the place and at the precise time indicated by the official call, and in case the said plaintiff should violate said undertaking, the defendant had the right to deduct a week's salary from the compensation of the plaintiff, or at his option to entirely cancel the said agreement as by said contract now in the possession of the defendant, and ready to be produced as the Court may direct, reference being thereunto had may fully and at large appear.

"And the defendant further says that after the making of said contract, said plaintiff commenced to render services as an Opera singer under said contract, and so continued down to about the 8th day of February 1886 at which time this defendant was in the City of Chicago, State of Illinois, and was then and there with his Opera Company engaged in giving representations of Operas, and the like at the Columbia Theatre in said City. That on the night of said day, and while the Opera Company of this defendant was engaged in giving a representation of the Opera known as Carmen in which Madame Minnie Hauk assumed the rôle of 'Carmen,' and the said Ravelli the rôle of 'Don José,' the said Ravelli while on the stage, and in the presence of the audience violently assaulted said Madame Minnie Hauk and threatened then and there to take her life, and shouted at her the most violently insulting epithets and language; that his conduct caused said Madame Minnie Hauk to become violently ill, and she so continued, and from time to time was unable to perform, thereby compelling this defendant to change the operas he had proposed and advertised to give, causing great public disappointment, and great pecuniary loss to this defendant.

"And the defendant further says that from about the 8th day of February 1885 to and until the 20th of February 1885 plaintiff refused to perform any of the parts set down for him to sing, or to attend rehearsals, or to obey calls as they were sent to him, and generally conducted himself in a brutal and insubordinate manner. That on the 20th of February at said City of Chicago this defendant with great difficulty persuaded him to act and sing in the part of 'Arturo' in the Opera of I Puritani, but before said last named day, he had been regularly and formally notified and called to the rehearsals of the Opera of Mignon, and to rehearse, and sing the part of 'Guglielmo,' and he refused so to do, and tore up the calls, or notices sent to him therefor, and threw them in the face of defendant's messenger. The said Ravelli was announced to the public to sing the rôle of said 'Guglielmo' in said opera of Mignon in all advertisements and notices for the 19th day of February A.D. 1885, but wholly refused and neglected so to do, and also neglected and refused to appear and sing in the rôle of 'Don José' in Carmen, announced in bills and advertised for February 20th, 1885.

"That after this defendant had as aforesaid persuaded said Luigi Ravelli to sing in the part of I Puritani, he continued to sing until the 13th March, at which time this defendant was with his Company at the City of Denver, in the Territory of Colorado, at which time and place he again without reason or excuse neglected and refused to sing in a public concert advertised and given in said City by this defendant.

"That thereafter and until the 6th of April 1885 said Ravelli was insubordinate, disrespectful, and self-willed in all his relations with this defendant, and falsely pretended to be unable to sing with the exception of two occasions, and on each of such occasions, without permission of this defendant, and without notice, he wilfully omitted the various principal airs and songs in the presence of the public who had paid to hear him sing the same, thereby causing this defendant great annoyance and loss by reason of the disappointment of the public, and the ill-will of the public towards this defendant caused thereby. That during the past four weeks during which this defendant has been with his said Company in the City and County of San Francisco the said Ravelli has repeatedly wilfully broken his contract, disappointed the public and greatly injured this defendant in his enterprise in business. He has sung only twice during all said period, and on his first appearance wilfully and maliciously omitted to sing a principal part of the music set down for him to sing, thereby disappointing the public, interrupting and injuring the representation and inflicting great injury and loss on this defendant.

"That on the 10th of April last the said Luigi Ravelli was duly called to rehearsal, and to sing certain music selected by himself, and which he had requested this defendant to insert in the Concert programme for April 11th, but refused to rehearse or sing at said concert although this defendant had caused to be prepared said music and the band parts thereof to be written out, and arranged to suit the pleasure and caprice of said plaintiff.

"That said Ravelli not only refused to sing, but then and there declared he would sing no longer for this defendant, and falsely and maliciously inserted advertisements and notices in certain of the public newspapers of San Francisco, which notices and publications were greatly to the injury of this defendant.

"That all of which doings of said plaintiff were in breach of his contract with this defendant, and greatly to this defendant's damage, and to his damage in the sum of five thousand dollars.

"And this defendant further says that he has repeatedly condoned the violations by said plaintiff of said contract with this defendant and his violence and brutality towards persons of the Company other than this defendant in the hope that he will ultimately come to his senses, and behave himself as he should; but that all this defendant's forbearance towards him has been of no effect, and has led only to repeated and further violations of his contract.

"Wherefore this defendant alleges that all and singular the said acts and doings of said Ravelli have constituted, and are so many breaches of his said contract with this defendant and that the same have been to the damage of this defendant over and above the amount of salary to which the said Ravelli would have been entitled had he properly conducted himself in the respects aforesaid, the full sum of five thousand dollars.

"Wherefore the defendant demands that the said complaint be dismissed, and that he may have and recover of the plaintiff as damages for the breach of his said contract with this defendant the sum of five thousand dollars, together with the costs of the action and disbursements incurred in defending this action.

"W. H. L. BARNES,
"Attorney for Defendant."

"State of California, City and County of San Francisco.

"J. H. MAPLESON being duly sworn deposes and says that he is the defendant in the above entitled action, that he has read the foregoing answer and cross-complaint and knows the contents thereof; that the same is true of his own knowledge except as to those matters which are therein stated on his own information and belief and that as to those matters that he believes it to be true.

"J. H. MAPLESON.

"Subscribed and sworn to before me this 16th day of April A.D. 1886.

"GEO. F. KNOX,             "Notary Public."

The suit having been promptly terminated in my favour (General Barnes wins all his cases, even when they are not quite as good as mine was) I had to pay a few dollars for law expenses, and the embargo on the music and baggage was raised. But we could not start on our long journey with something like ten dollars among the whole one hundred and sixty of us, and I had still many difficulties to contend with before I could make a start. In London or Paris I should have begun by parting with my valuable jewellery, but this I could not do in an American city without everyone getting at once to know of it. That jewellery cannot pass from hand to hand without some reasonable proof of ownership being given is undoubtedly an excellent thing, though it did not suit my particular case. In England we are such lovers of liberty that a low-class pawnbroker or a receiver of stolen goods is free to purchase or to accept as a pledge whatever may be offered to him without asking inconvenient questions, or troubling himself in any way as to how the property came into the hands of the person anxious to dispose of it. In America the vendor or pledger of any article of value must give his real name and address, and at the same time brings as reference some respectable person, whose name and address must also be given. This reminds me (if for a few moments I may be allowed to depart from the thread of my story) that in America spirits cannot legally be sold to anyone under the age of fifteen, nor under any circumstances to women. In England we are so wonderfully free that women and children may buy penn'orths of gin at any public-house; and one enterprising publican is said to have made a large fortune by establishing in his drink-den a metal counter low enough to suit the convenience of small children.

I was obliged to leave a fifty-pound ring at one hotel as security for the payment of a singer's bill, and, oddly enough, when this ring was afterwards forwarded me in a registered letter to New York it was seized at the moment of my opening the packet by a creditor, or rather a claimant, who, for a pretended debt, had procured an attachment against my effects; so that it was not until after I had gone through several formalities that I could get it finally into my possession.

I remember a case in which an American manager, whose receipts had been attached, made a point of putting the money, as it was paid at the doors, into his pockets, which in a very short time were laden with coin. To attach the money that a man carries in his pockets a special order known as a "garnishee" is necessary; and the attachment of money carried on the person cannot be obtained unless the bearer admits that he has it about him, or can be proved on sworn evidence to have made such an admission within the hearing of another person.

When an attachment has once been obtained the order of attachment can be sent on by telegraph to be enforced, wherever the person against whom it has been granted possesses property. On the other hand, as a counterbalancing advantage, a manager may pledge his receipts by telegraph, and one man may at any time send money to another by the same means at quite a nominal charge. Deposit the money at a telegraph office, and the clerk telegraphs to the office of the place where your correspondent is staying that a sum equal in amount to the one deposited is to be forthwith paid. Our post-office orders are issued at usurious rates, and within limited hours. One cannot, however, but foresee the day when we shall be reasonable enough in this, as in so many other matters of practical life, to imitate the Americans.

It was absolutely necessary for me at the last moment to part with a certain amount of jewellery, and this I contrived to do without, I hope, attracting too much attention. I was spared the annoyance of seeing the details of each separate sale recorded in the newspapers.

I calculated that the losses caused to me by Ravelli's preposterous conduct amounted to at least 10,000 dollars. At some of the cities along the great line of railway, where I had engaged to give performances, I was unable, having lost the dates that had been fixed, to get others; and at one city, where the manager gave me another date, he stopped the whole of the receipts; which he said were due to him as damages for the injury done to him by not performing on the evening originally appointed.

On the morning of our departure—our escape, I may say—from the city where, a year before, we had been so prosperous, and whence I had borne away not a small, but a very considerable fortune, I was awakened about one o'clock in the morning by a Chinaman, a negro, and several Italian choristers, all crying out for money. But I satisfied every claim before I left; and I was more astonished than delighted to find myself complimented on having done so by one of the San Francisco papers, in which it was pointed out that I could easily have saved myself the trouble and pain in which I had been involved by taking a ticket and travelling eastward on my own account, leaving the Company to take care of themselves in the Californian capital.

I was not in a position to give gratuities to all who, in my opinion, deserved them. But John O'Molloy, the gasman of the Opera-house, had stood by me manfully in all my troubles; and I could not leave without making him a small present. In doing so I rendered the poor fellow a truly tragic service; inasmuch as, for the sake of the twenty-five dollar note which I gave him, he was the same evening robbed and murdered.

On the whole, though in the midst of my difficulties I had been worried a little by interviewers, the San Francisco papers gave me good words at parting. One of them explained my pecuniary failure not by the scandal which Ravelli's conduct had caused, but by my having played to popular prices, instead of the exceptionally high ones which I had charged when the year before Patti was singing for me, and receiving at the time payment at the rate of £1,000 a night.

"Opera," said the journal in question, "is regarded as a luxury, to enjoy which its votaries are willing to pay liberally. High prices are its illusion, and when put down to current rates the romance of the thing is destroyed. Mapleson did not appear to understand this, and his deficiency of the knowledge has caused him to leave us almost a bankrupt by his San Francisco venture. It is admitted on all hands that he had a splendid troupe, but the fact of his performing to what are known as popular prices, and complications arising with certain members of his troupe, seem to deprive him of his usual success."

"By the way," said a writer in the paper called Truth, "I notice that Mapleson is said to be indebted to Ravelli for 6,000 dollars, though an artist notoriously never permits an impresario to owe him more than a few performances. [It was proved in Court that I owed him nothing.] At home, as everybody knows, in their own country they receive in about a year as much as they are paid in a month in America, the streets of which the average Italian singer imagines to be paved with gold coins. As to the success or failure of the venture of the impresario they are supremely indifferent, but pertinaciously continue to demand the utmost farthing, no matter how badly things may be going. Lyric artists are, as a rule, the most grossly ignorant people on all subjects, except their own special art, and money. They are intensely conceited and abominably selfish, and regard an impresario as their natural prey. The sums that Ravelli has received from Mapleson in the last few years are beyond question sufficient to maintain the tenor in comfort and luxury for the rest of his life. Yet the moment he fails to receive his quid pro quo he refuses to render his services, denouncing his manager as a swindler, and abandons him at a moment when by loyalty and a little patience he could have aided in relieving the ill-fortune which must inevitably be anticipated in operatic affairs. Of course on general commercial principles the labourer is worthy of his hire; but in operatic matters the hire is, as a rule, so entirely out of proportion to the services rendered, and the conditions of the enterprise so unlike any other venture, that a little latitude certainly ought to be allowed."

I found on my arrival at Chicago that one of the Chicago papers had, at the beginning of my troubles, published the following telegram from its correspondent at San Francisco:—

"Mapleson is fighting his last week of opera at San Francisco in the teeth of dissensions, his first tenor having published a card to the purport that Mapleson had not fulfilled his obligations with him, and that he would not sing unless he published an announcement over his own name. The San Francisco Chronicle, the leading paper, therefore calls on all music lovers to rally in force for Mapleson's benefit on the 16th. The absurd prices Mapleson pays his operatic cut-throats makes the opera business a ruinous one. Covered with trophies and a due proportion of scars from his many campaigns, Mapleson will march his forces into Chicago to-morrow, Sunday, bivouacing for the night at the Chicago Opera-house, where his principal members will be heard in a sacred concert.

"The different performances given, notwithstanding all these operatic troubles, have been of that high standard which Mapleson alone has ever presented to us. Mapleson remains with us another week. Such performances as he has given are in but few places to be found. No Opera Company existing to-day has a better troupe of singers. There appears to exist a general impression among certain of the newspapers that Colonel Mapleson is operatically dead, and entirely out of the hunt. By his advent here, he proves to the public that he is still on deck."

My plan of retreat was well devised, and with a little good luck might have been thoroughly successful. As it was, it at least enabled us, without too much delay, to reach New York, and from New York to take ship for Liverpool.

Unable to command the railroad in a direct way from Frisco to New York, I determined to undertake a series of engagements at certain selected points all along the line. If the first of these proved successful I should be in a better position for my second encounter. It was certain in any case that at each fresh city I should be able to levy contributions; and with the money thus raised I could lay in a new stock of provisions and continue my advance by rail in the direction of New York, ready to stop at the first city whose population and resources might make it worth my while to do so.

Going back a little I must here explain that before leaving San Francisco, in order that Mdme. Minnie Hauk might be fresh for the proposed performance at Omaha, I had sent her on two days in advance—a distance of not more than 1,867 miles; whilst Mdme. Nordica was placed at another strategical point 2,500 miles away, at Minneapolis. She had to attend her sick mother, but was prepared to rejoin us when called upon to do so. Mdlle. Alma Fohström, not having sufficiently recovered from her late indisposition, was left behind at San Francisco, 2,400 miles from the scene of my next operations.

From Louisville, Kentucky, I telegraphed Mdme. Minnie Hauk to come on at once to play Carmen for the second night of our season; and she arrived in good time. She sang the same evening.

Mdme. Nordica received orders to join us at Indianapolis, where she was to appear in La Traviata, which she duly did the following Friday; whilst Mdlle. Alma Fohström, now recovered, was brought on from San Francisco to Cincinnati, a distance of some 2,500 miles, to perform in Lucia di Lammermoor. She also arrived punctually, and sang the same night.

I mention this small fact to show what can be accomplished with a little discipline. The reason why Mdme. Minnie Hauk was sent on to Omaha beforehand was in order that, by announcing her arrival in that city, I might give confidence to the public, it having been reported that my Company was broken up. Hence there was no booking; though had we arrived punctually for the opera on the promised date, my receipts, which I had already pledged to the Railway Company to get out of San Francisco, would certainly have been not less than £500 or £600. Mdme. Minnie Hauk, moreover, would have been saved a détour of some 2,400 miles.

Altogether I lost about £2,000, as I missed Omaha on the Friday, Burlington on the Saturday, Chicago on the Sunday, and my first performance in Louisville on the Monday.

Notwithstanding my all but insurmountable difficulties the performances never stopped, an announced opera was never altered, and the whole of the promised representations actually took place in each city; the press notices, which I still preserve, being unanimous as to the excellence of the representations.

I may mention that the travelling on these lines averages some 25 miles an hour only, there being several very steep gradients on the road. In some instances the train goes up over 3,000 feet in 57 miles, and down again; whilst the height of several mountains traversed by the train reaches from 7,000 to 8,000 feet.

CHAPTER XIII.

WHEN the Company started for the steamer which was to ferry us across to the railway station, further trouble arose in consequence of the increased sums demanded (now that the rates had been got up) for the Pullman cars which I had ordered for the principal artists; amounting to a considerable sum. But this difficulty was ultimately surmounted, and we left early on Wednesday evening for Omaha, where we were due on the Friday following.

My private car, moreover, had been let, and I was forced to engage an ordinary Pullman, with no facilities whatever for cooking or even heating water. Hasty purchases had now to be made of wine, coffee, etc., and a few tins of preserved meats; and a start was made for Omaha.

I was obliged to make arrangements not only for provisioning my principal artists, but also for cooking their food. I bought, when we were on the point of starting, a couple of hams and some cans of tinned meat, wine, and several gallons of whisky; the latter being intended not for internal consumption, but simply for cooking purposes. I found that there was no kitchen in the train, and I was obliged to improvise one as best I could. Del Puente, besides being an excellent singer, is a very tolerable second-rate cook; and I appointed him to the duty of preparing the macaroni (which I must admit he did in first-rate style), and of acting generally as kitchenmaid and scullion. I myself officiated as chef, and saw at the close of each day that the eminent baritone washed up the plates and dishes and kept the kitchen utensils generally in good order.

Early every morning I prepared the coffee for breakfast; and I believe no better, and certainly no hotter coffee was ever made than that which one day just before the breakfast hour I upset, through a jolt of the train, over my unhappy legs.

The fresh invigorating air of the mountains and of the spacious plains may have had something to do with it; but to judge from results, I may fairly say that my cooking was appreciated. My eight principal artists were, moreover, in charming temper. All professional jealousy and rivalry had been forgotten, except perhaps on the part of Del Puente, who did not quite like the secondary position which I had assigned to an artist who had previously refused all but leading parts.

At most of the principal stations we were able to purchase eggs, chickens, tomatoes, and salad. There was generally, moreover, a cow in the neighbourhood; and wherever we had an opportunity of doing so we laid in a supply of fresh milk.

While on the subject of cows, I must say a word as to the cruel fate which these unhappy beasts meet with at the hands of the railway people. In front of every train there is a "cow-catcher," which, when a cow gets on the line, shunts the wretched animal off and at the same time breaks its legs. I begged the driver more than once to stop the train and put the mutilated animal out of its misery with a revolver shot, but it was not thought worth while.

When a cow is destroyed by the "cow-catcher" the owner can claim from the railway company half its value; and it is said that in bad times when cattle are low in the market, or worse still, unsaleable, they are driven on to the line with a view to destruction. I have often in a day's journey perceived hundreds of the bleached skeletons of the animals killed outright by the "cow-catcher," or maimed and left to die. An inspector, appointed by the railway company, passes from time to time along the line and, after settling up, marks in the left ear and at the tip of the tail the dead beasts for which the company has paid. The former owner disposes of the carcasses and hides; the latter alone possessing appreciable value. The former are left on the ground to become food for the crows; though the Indians will sometimes cut away portions of the meat when they come upon a beast which is still fresh.

During our eight days' journey I acted not only as cook, but also as butler; and our various wines, all of Californian growth, were excellent. They cost from 8d to 10d a bottle, and I was not alone in regarding them as of excellent quality. Singers are not great wine drinkers, but they are accustomed to wines of the first quality; and I may say in favour of the wines of California that they were appreciated and bought for conveyance to Europe by artists of such indubitable taste as Patti, Nilsson, and Gerster. The cost of carriage renders it impossible to send the wines of California to Europe for sale. But someday, when, for instance, the Panama Canal has been cut, there will be a market for them both in England and on the Continent. They are, of course, of different qualities. But the finest Californian vintages may be pronounced incomparable. I remember once being entertained in company with some of my leading artists by Surgeon-General Hammond, at his house in Fifty-eighth Street, New York, when some Californian champagne was served which we all thought admirable. Our facetious host disguised it under labels bearing the familiar names of "Heidsieck" and "Pommery-Greno;" and we all thought we were drinking the finest vintages of Epernay and of Rheims. Then under the guise of Californian champagne he gave us genuine Pommery and genuine Heidsieck; the result being that we were all deceived. The wine labelled as French, but which was in fact Californian, was pronounced excellent, while the genuine French wines described as of Californian origin seemed of inferior quality.

On arriving at Cheyenne I found it would be impossible to reach Omaha in time to perform Carmen, which was announced for the following evening; or Burlington, where Lucia was billed for the Saturday; or Chicago for our Sunday concert, for which every place had been taken. All had to be abandoned. Our special train was consequently diverted off to the right in the direction of Denver, where I telegraphed to know if they could take us in for a concert the following Sunday. On receiving a negative reply, I telegraphed to Kansas City, where my proposition was accepted. I consequently wired the Kansas manager the names of the artists and the programme containing the pieces each would sing. Through the manipulation of the telegraph clerks scarcely one of the artists' names was spelt right, whilst the pieces they proposed to sing, as I afterwards found, were all muddled up together.

In due course our party reached Denver, where we took half an hour's stop for watering the train and obtaining ice for the water tanks in the different cars, after which we started on our road to Kansas City.

Shortly after leaving Denver one of my sergeants belonging to the corps of commissionaires—several of whom I had brought from London—was taken ill and reported to be suffering from sunstroke received many years previously in India.

During our brief stoppage at Denver one of the other sergeants had purchased him some medicine which he was in the habit of taking. About two o'clock in the morning he became very violent, and it was found necessary to cut the bell-cord running through the carriage in order to tie him down. I then gave orders to the sergeant-major to place him in a bed and have him watched by alternate reliefs of the other sergeants, changing every two hours.

About four in the morning, in the midst of a terrific thunderstorm, accompanied by torrents of rain, I was alarmed by the sudden entry of the sergeant-major, stating that the invalid under his charge had opened the window and taken a header straight out.

There was great difficulty in stopping the train in consequence of the absence of the bell-cord; but we ultimately succeeded in doing so. Numbers of us went out to look for the poor man's remains, the vivid flashes of lightning assisting us in our search. As the water on each side of the railway was several feet deep, and as the sergeant was nowhere to be found on the line, we concluded after three hours' search that he must be drowned, and again started the train, leaving word at the first station of the misfortune that had happened.

In consequence of this delay we did not reach Kansas City until half-past ten at night, when a portion of the public met us to express in rather a marked manner their extreme disapprobation. It was afterwards explained to me that nearly every seat in the house had been sold, and that had we arrived in time we should have taken at least £800, which, in my straitened circumstances, would have been of considerable assistance.

We prosecuted our journey straight through to Louisville, Kentucky. But here, too, we failed to arrive at the proper time. The train being so many hours late, we did not reach our destination till eleven o'clock at night, when the audience, who had been waiting some considerable time, had gone home very irate. Minnie Hauk having rejoined us the following evening we played Carmen to but a moderate house, in consequence of the public having lost all confidence in the undertaking. In settling up with the manager he deducted the whole of my share of the receipts, stating that they would partly compensate him for the losses incident to our non-arrival the first night, as well as on the previous night, and for the general falling off in the receipts caused by these mishaps. We afterwards went to the station to take the train for Indianapolis; but on arriving there I found that the Sheriffs had seized and attached, not only all the scenery, properties, dresses, and everybody's boxes, but the whole of my railway carriages; and it was only with the greatest possible difficulty, by giving an order on the next city, that I got the train released. I had, of course, to pay the Sheriff's costs, which were exceedingly heavy.

On arriving at Indianapolis very meagre receipts awaited us, these being absorbed entirely by the railway people on the order which I had given from Louisville. There were likewise sundry claims from San Francisco. During the whole of my stay in Indianapolis I was unable to obtain even a single dollar from the management. I, however, arranged by anticipating the coming week's receipts to clear up all my liabilities and get under way for Cincinnati, where the results of our engagement were something atrocious. The theatre was almost empty nightly, the public, by reason of the threatened riots, being afraid to go out in the streets.

I was now forced, in order to meet the large demands for railway fares, to drop at successive stations scenery, costumes, and properties. At one place an immense box, containing nothing but niggers' wigs, mustachios, and beards, made by Clarkson, of London, passed from my hands into those of the Sheriffs, who held an attachment against it. When I found it necessary to part at one station with L'Africaine, at another to separate myself from William Tell, and at a third to cast away the whole of Il Trovatore and a bit of Semiramide, I felt like the Russian mother who, to secure her own safety, threw her children one after the other to the wolves.

I cannot, however, say that the wolves of the law are worse in America than in other countries. They bear the same honoured names that one is accustomed to among the members of the profession in happy England. I was interested, moreover, to learn that the Levys, the Isaacs, the Aarons, and the Solomons of the United States are all related to the Levys, Isaacs, Aarons, and Solomons of our own favoured land. I had so much to do with them, from the beginning of the retreat from Frisco until my arrival at New York, and the eve of my departure for Europe, that they ended by treating me as their friend, and made me free of their guild. They entertained me also at dinner, and gave me a badge; and when my health was drunk I was assured that in future I should be treated like a brother: for, said the speaker, referring to the fact that I myself was now a Sheriff, "Dog doesn't eat dog."

To return to my story, contracts having been given out for repairing the roads and repaving the city, in consequence of some league amongst the various contractors all the streets had been left unpaved at the same time; and as soon as every paving stone was up a general strike took place. It was impossible for a carriage to pass along anywhere without getting upset by the hillocks of stones. Suddenly we heard that the anarchists were rising, and now the city was filled with State militia accompanied by numerous Gatling guns for the purpose of clearing the streets. These things in combination so injured the business of the Opera that the theatre was empty every night. In many instances choristers were afraid to go through the streets to fulfil their duties.

We were now rejoined by Mdlle. Fohström, also by Mdme. Nordica; but all looked very unpromising. Our previous mishaps had been so much written about, telegraphed, and in every way exaggerated by the various papers, that all confidence seemed to have been withdrawn from us, and it was with the greatest possible difficulty we could carry through our performances.

As if in imitation of the paviours of Cincinnati, portions of my Company now began to strike. First the band struck, then the chorus, then the ballet.

One night, when Lucia di Lammermoor was being played, a delegation of choristers notified me that unless all arrears were paid up they would decline to go on the stage. Argument was useless. The notification was in the form of an ultimatum. The choristers would not even wait until the close of the performance for their money, but insisted upon having it there and then.

I therefore had to begin the opera with the entrance of "Enrico," leaving out the small introductory chorus, which was not missed by the public. We thus got through the first act; also the first scene of the second act. The curtain was now lowered just before the marriage scene; and negotiations were again attempted, but still without success. I felt it necessary to improvise a chorus for the grand wedding scene, and it consisted of the stage-manager, the scene-painter, several of the programme-sellers, the male costumier, the armourer and his assistants, together with several workmen, ballet girls, etc., who, elegantly attired in some of my best dresses, had a very imposing effect. I gave strict instructions that they were to remain perfectly silent, and to act as little as possible; at the same time telling the principal singers to do their very best in the grand sextet.

The result was an encore and general enthusiasm. Everyone, too, was called before the curtain at the close of the act, and one of the leading critics declared that the finale was "nobly rendered."

Finding how well I could do without them the chorus now came to terms.

A concert was given on the following Sunday night which closed the engagement. The whole of the receipts had been absorbed by lawyers, sheriffs, railway companies, and the keepers of the hotels at which the principal members of the troupe put up. The hotel-keepers, moreover, had seized all the boxes. The train was drawn up at the station; but after waiting two hours the engine was detached and taken away into the sheds.

In the meantime dark groups of choristers were congregated in different parts of the city, and things did, indeed, look gloomy. During the night I succeeded in paying the different hotel bills; and ultimately in the small hours of the morning the train was got together and started for Detroit, I remaining behind to make arrangements for paying off the remaining attachments.

On the Company's arriving at Detroit it was discovered that Minnie Hauk's boxes containing her Carmen dresses had been left behind. As they could not possibly reach her in time I had to arrange by telegraph to have new dresses made for her during the afternoon. It took the whole of my time to release the fifty or sixty attachments that had been issued against the belongings of the various members of the Company, and I arrived in Detroit early the following morning with the things which I had at last triumphantly released. The whole of a Pullman car was filled with the various articles I had set free, including the Carmen dresses, sundry stacks of washing, various dressing bags, and piles of ballet girls' petticoats, beautifully starched.

Our artistic success in Detroit was great, and, after performing three nights, we left after the last performance for Milwaukee.

We passed from Detroit to Milwaukee, where but a few days beforehand the mob had been fired upon, with some eighteen killed and several wounded. The whole town was in a state of alarm; neither Fohström's "Lucia" and "Sonnambula," nor Minnie Hauk's "Carmen," nor Nordica's "Margherita" in Faust could attract more than enough cash to pay the board bills and fares to Chicago, for which city we left early the following morning.

The scenes that had taken place there must be fresh in the mind of everyone.

Bombshells had been thrown by the Anarchists; numbers of people had been killed, and the public of Chicago was in the same frame of mind with regard to the opera as so many of the previous cities. It preferred to remain indoors.

Our musical operations were seriously interfered with by the strike, which was promptly responded to by a lock-out. The clothing manufacturers closed their shops, throwing but of employment nearly 2,000 superintendents—"bosses," as the Americans call them—and 25,000 hands. The hands had demanded ten hours' pay for eight hours' work, with 20 per cent. advance on trousers, and 25 per cent. on vests and coats. The "bosses" demanded an advance of from 35 to 50 per cent. on all kinds of work; and it was resolved by the employers not to reopen until all the firms had made a successful resistance to these claims on the part of the workmen. The metal manufacturers and furniture makers had been threatened in like manner by their men; and they also refused to yield to the strikers. At the same time from 30,000 to 40,000 men were on strike at Cincinnati, where the suburbs were occupied by a whole army of troops. It now appeared that the disturbances at Chicago were closely connected with those at Cincinnati. Some of the Socialists on strike were armed, to the number of 600 or 700, with effective rifles, and they controlled the manufacture of dynamite shells. The shells which the rioters had been using at Chicago had been made at Cincinnati, and it was said that the Chicago Socialists had on hand for immediate use a supply of these infernal machines. At Milwaukee, some seventy or eighty miles from Chicago, nineteen Anarchists and Socialists had just been arraigned on a charge of riot and conspiracy "to kill and murder." In the streets of Chicago placards were posted on the walls announcing that groups of more than three persons would be dispersed by force; so that a husband and wife proceeding in company with two of their children to hear Il Trovatore or Lucia di Lammermoor ran the risk of being fired into by Gatling guns.

CHAPTER XIV.

WE opened our Chicago season with a grand concert prior to the commencement of the regular performances in order to let the public know that all the Company was present in the city after the conflicting reports that had been circulated.

Notwithstanding all our recent reverses, my Company was intact, except that the refractory tenor Ravelli had been replaced by Signor Baldanza, and the basso Cherubini by Signor Bologna. Here, again, in Chicago, my usual stronghold for Italian Opera, the reports of our troubles had been exaggerated and enlarged upon, so that the general public had lost all confidence, notwithstanding the fact that, through Mrs. Marshall Field's influence, a party of the most distinguished citizens had secured the whole of the boxes for the entire season.

The Chicago engagement was expected to recoup us for our losses in the West. But, unfortunately, this hope was not realized; and in consequence of the wild reports that got into general circulation, and, of course, into the newspapers, the Company began to clamour for their pay. I referred them to Mr. Henderson, the Manager of the Chicago Opera-house; and his office was crowded daily with prime donne, chorus people, dancers, musicians, property men, bill-board men, and supernumeraries, all demanding money. "Lucia" was begging for dollars and cents; "Manrico" insisted on having at least three meals a day; while the "Count di Luna," who shared his rival's apartments, protested that unless he had a pint of good wine before he went on he could not get out his F's with due effect in Il Balen.

Mr. Henderson proclaimed his managerial life a burden, but made no other response.

Of the orchestral players the drum was the noisiest; though the hautboy and the piccolo were every whit as emphatic. It was a united and determined strike, the keynote of which was, "No pay no play."

Only two weeks' pay was owing to them, and it was agreed that Mr. Henderson, the Manager, should give them one week's salary on account. But when the musicians assembled to receive it they suddenly, through the persuasiveness of one of their body, insisted upon having all arrears paid up; otherwise they would not enter the orchestra.

Finding they were obdurate and would not take the money that was offered them, I was forced to seek musicians from among the various musical societies of the city, and called a rehearsal as soon as I was ready. After the new orchestra had been brought together, a hasty rehearsal was ordered for 7.30 that evening; and not long after the opening of the doors the public was regaled with the sounds of my new orchestra, who were practising underneath the pit, from which they were separated only by a very thin flooring.

On Arditi's notifying Signor Bimboni, the accompanist and under-conductor, that he would require him to assist on the piano in the orchestra, Bimboni replied: "Bless you! I have struck too."

Nothing discouraged, though somewhat wrath, Arditi succeeded in unearthing an accompanist, who struggled bravely with the pianoforte score.

During the performance, Parry, our stage manager, met Bimboni near the stage door, and reproached him sharply for deserting his post. This altercation led to blows. Bimboni struck out wildly, and soon went down with a black eye and a bruised face as a souvenir of the encounter.

The chorus, finding that I had provided another orchestra, and had threatened to find other choristers, gave in; and I must say we succeeded in giving a very excellent performance, despite all difficulties.

The next day all was again serene, and I was enabled to continue my representations until the close, finishing up the season with success. The Chicago engagement concluded with a benefit tendered to me by most of the prominent citizens. They thus showed their appreciation of my efforts as a pioneer; for I was the first manager who had introduced into their city grand opera worthy of the name.

Amongst the signatures to the document embodying this fact were the following well-known names:—The Hon. Carter H. Harrison, Judge Eugene Carey, Marshall Field, Ferd. W. Peck, J. Harding, Professor Swing, George Boyne, Irving Pearce, A. A. Sprague, George Schneider, John R. Walsh, J. McGregor Adams, George F. Harding, S. S. Shortball, J. Russell Jones, Edson Keith, C. M. Henderson, Hon. J. Medill, Potter Palmer, John B. Drake, N. K. Fairbank, T. B. Blackstone, A. S. Gage, &c.

On being called before the curtain I thanked the public for the liberal support they had given to my undertaking; also the press for the encouraging notices which it had published daily, notwithstanding all my troubles. These had been fully made known to everyone by means of the daily papers, which really took more interest in my affairs than I did myself.

In regard to the strike of my orchestra, an account of which was published in the Inter-Ocean, Mr. David Henderson, manager of the Chicago Opera-house, said to an interviewer:—"The new orchestra played this evening in a satisfactory manner. The Musical Union held a meeting during the day, and decided, I am told, that the members of the Colonel's orchestra did wrong in taking the stand in the matter of wages that they did; that is, in demanding from me back salaries. After the meeting several of them expressed a desire to come back; but I only took those needed—five or six in all. The rest are out of employment. The orchestra is now better than before, and everything is going along smoothly. At the conclusion of the engagement of the Company, Sunday night, a number of the principals and of the chorus and executive staff will return with Colonel Mapleson direct to London. I ought to add that since the beginning of the engagement he has not touched one cent of the box-office receipts. I have distributed the money as equitably as I could, giving to each artist, on present and past salaries, as much as the receipts would permit. I have learned that the Colonel is not as much in arrears to his Company as newspaper reports led the public to believe. Some of the leading people have been, as near as I can ascertain, only behindhand some three or four performances, before coming to Chicago. The orchestra that left, I understand, have two weeks' salaries due to them, that were incurred during the past eight weeks since the Colonel's bad business in California, and through the lengthened voyage. The best proof of the belief on the part of his company that the Colonel intends doing what is right by its members is the willingness with which every one of them has consented to appear at his benefit, Saturday evening, without compensation."

"The Mapleson Opera Company," wrote the Tribune, "with the Colonel's trials and tribulations, have pretty well filled the public eye the past week. Outside of the Columbia Theatre, with the McCaull people there has been nothing to talk about but the Colonel. There are times when Mapleson, unconsciously, perhaps, appeals to sympathy. He is the only living man to-day with nerve enough to go into the business at all, who can govern and control the average opera singer. The latter is the most trying beast on earth. Male or female, Italian or Greek, German or 'American,' they are all alike. A more obstreperous, cantankerous, and altogether unreasonable being than an opera singer it is hard to find in any other walk of life. The Italian contingent of the guild is the worst to get along with. The Italian singer is rapacious, improvident, ungrateful, and wholly inconsiderate of his manager. At the same time he is a vain fool whom a word of flattery will move. Mapleson speaks Italian fluently, and hence when trouble arises he seeks the complainer, gives him a lot of Tuscan taffy, and the idiot goes off and sings as if nothing had happened. The Mapleson season at the Chicago Opera-house has had its difficulties, yet it has scored successes. The leading people have stood by the Colonel. He has had trouble with the orchestra, but that was quickly remedied. Yesterday Giannini, whom Mapleson picked up, as it were, out of the gutter in New York, where the Milan Company dropped him, and to whom he has since paid thousands of dollars, whether he earned it or not, made a strike just before the matinée. Giannini wanted 600 dollars. Mapleson offered 400 dollars. Giannini refused it, and would not sing. Then the Colonel began to talk Italian in his charming way, and the result was that the tenor went back, dressed, and sang, and that, too, without a 'cent,' and did it with meekness. La Sonnambula, which gave Mdlle. Fohström her last chance to appear, drew a good house at the matinée, and the Colonel's benefit in the evening was a gratifying tribute. There were no more breaks, and the audience showed a warm appreciation throughout. The programme was just what Colonel Mapleson's admirers wanted. Last night's performance ended the season. From here the company scatters. The principals seek their homes in Europe, and the Colonel travels post-haste to London, where he is to superintend the Patti appearance in June. Mapleson is disgusted with his present season's experience, but he is by no means disheartened. He threatens to come back at an early period."

At the end of some three weeks we learned that Sergeant Smith, the commissionaire who jumped out of the window in his shirt, had been discovered comfortably asleep and unhurt. Some difficulty was experienced in marching him along in the costume in which he then was to the hospital, whither it was thought prudent first to take him until some clothing could be provided. Whilst he was detained there a lady who had come to visit a sick gardener recognized the sergeant as having crossed on the same boat with her some six months previously. He readily accepted her offer of the vacant place, and forthwith began work; and it was only after many inquiries as to how the missing body had been disposed of that we discovered the man was still alive. On this being made known several articles came out in various journals, some giving the life of Sergeant Smith, and saying where and how he had won his numerous medals, whilst others expatiated generally on the valour and endurance of the British army.

In due course the gallant sergeant joined the main body and donned his uniform.

While we were at Chicago another Opera Company, calling itself the Milan Grand Italian Opera Company, was giving performances, and an amusing incident happened during a representation of Lucia. The audience was waiting for the appearance of the heroine in the third act. But they waited and watched in vain. The chorus stood in mute amazement, while the musicians in the orchestra looked somewhat amused. The audience stamped their feet and clapped their hands, while the gallery hissed repeatedly. The curtain was rung down, and there was a wait of a few minutes, when finally Signor Alberto Sarata, the manager of the Company, appeared on the stage, and said that Miss Eva Cummings, who had been singing the part of "Lucia," had suddenly become ill, and was quite unable to continue her performance. The opera would, therefore, go on without her. He had scarcely finished speaking when "Lucia" herself came on to the stage, and declared that she was in perfect health, and that she wanted her salary. This announcement was received with mingled cheers and hisses.

The prima donna bowed gracefully first to one side of the house, then to the other, and was about to follow the manager, who had already left the stage, when she found that the curtain was held fast by invisible forces. From one exit she went to the other, but still was unable to escape from the presence of the public.

"I will get off this time, anyhow!" she exclaimed, and with a rush pushed the curtain back. The invisible forces still resisted; but after a time "Lucia" succeeded in making her way to the wings.

Then the curtain went up, and "Edgardo" began to bewail the death of a "Lucia" who had not died.

Towards the close of our Chicago engagement attachments, writs, summonses, etc., began to fall thick and fast, which had to be dealt with speedily in order to ensure our departure.

I therefore made arrangements for a farewell Sunday concert in order to raise the wind for the purpose.

I cannot allow this opportunity to pass without tendering my sincere thanks to my esteemed and valued friend, President Peck, who very kindly came to the rescue by affording me the monetary assistance I required to enable us to get out of the city.

As fast as one attachment was released another came on. The last one I got rid of about 2 a.m., and left the theatre satisfied that all was serene. On seating myself at the Pacific Hotel, with a view to supper, I was called to the door, and notified that the waggons I had seen properly started had all been arrested and were at the corner of Dearborn Street. Placing down my knife and fork I hastened off; and by the aid of my friend Henderson, who gave bonds, the attachment was released. Meanwhile the whole of the Company was on the qui vive for the entraining order, the steam having been up some ten hours and the train not yet started.

At the station I came across the remnants of the Milan Opera Company which had been stranded some fortnight previously, and whose members were supplicating aid towards getting to New York. I thereupon had the great pleasure of affording them all a free passage in my train; and after sundry salutations from my numerous friends who came to see me off we took our departure. The Company reached Jersey City very early the following Tuesday morning, and went straight on board the boat which was to sail late that afternoon. I meanwhile crossed over into New York, where I attended at the Inman Steamship Office, and arranged for them to give a passage to my Company and to take an embargo on my belongings for their protection, as well as mine.

I must here set forth that every year on entering the port of New York the Customs authorities had charged me duty at the rate of some 50 per cent. on all my theatrical costumes, scenery, and properties, although the majority of them had originally been manufactured in the United States. Explanation was useless. The tax was invariably levied, though I always paid it under protest. I maintained that the things which accompanied me were tools of my profession, and were entitled under the State law to enter free; but inasmuch as I did not wear the clothing myself, it was contended that the property could not be so entered. To be free of duty the costumes, it was argued, must be the personal property of each performer. Mdme. Sarah Bernhardt on entering the United States brought some thousands of pounds worth of beautiful dresses, which were seized, she refusing to pay the amount of import duty claimed. Her case was heard, and it was decided from Washington that her dresses, since she wore them herself, were the tools of her profession or trade, and must be allowed to enter free. My case was different. But I instituted law proceedings against the United States, which, in consequence of various delays, lasted some four or five years. A decision was at last given in my favour. An order was, in fact, issued to refund me the duty I had previously paid, together with 6 per cent. interest.

On leaving the Inman Company's office I met my attorney, who informed me that the money that I was entitled to in the action I had won against the United States was payable to me on demand. This was, indeed, good news, and through my attorney's indefatigable exertions I was enabled to obtain the final signature of the Customs House authorities to the cheque which had been drawn to my order, and through his kindness to get it cashed.

I had, before leaving Chicago, received a letter from the ticket speculator Rullmann, to whom I was indebted upon a libretto contract, suggesting I should embark at Jersey City to avoid difficulties at New York. Angelo also recommended this course, saying that at New York there would be a plant put upon me, in order to delay my departure. As I was a resident of New York, and stood well there, I decided to start from that city; and it was a good thing I did so, as I afterwards learned that preparations had been made at Jersey City to prevent my starting, the "plant" having been prepared there. As I had a deal of business in New York the day of my departure, I decided to sail from Castle Garden in the health-officer's steamer, which was kindly placed at my disposal, the Captain of the Inman steamer having agreed, on my hoisting the health flag, to heave-to when outside in order to allow me to get on board.

Prior to leaving New York I arranged with the Mayor of Liverpool, through the medium of the cable, to give a grand concert at the Liverpool Exhibition building with the whole of my principal artists, for which I was to receive two-thirds of the gross receipts; and as the papers stated that the Exhibition was a very great success, I anticipated sufficient results to enable me, after landing, to take the Company on to London and send the choruses over to Italy.

We arrived in Liverpool three days before the time fixed for the proposed concert.

On landing I at once looked at the morning papers, when to my astonishment no announcement whatever of the concert had been made. On presenting myself at the Mayor's office I was informed that his Worship, who had just been knighted, had gone to the north to rest himself, leaving no instructions whatever with regard to the concert. A few bills had been ordered at the printers', but the proofs had not been corrected.

Feeling myself placed in a very trying position, I set personally about the arrangements, every obstacle meanwhile being thrown in my way by the executive, who contended that the Mayor had no right to enter into any arrangement without their sanction. I at last got placed up in the Exhibition two bills; which had vanished, however, by the next morning.

The concert-room was in a most chaotic state, stray pieces of wood, broken chairs, etc., lying about the floor. I had to arrange the room myself, and even number the seats.

The evening of the concert arrived; but the public as well as my own artists were debarred from entering the doors unless they first paid for admission to the Exhibition, the whole of the gate money having been pledged to some banker in Liverpool.

The concert gave great satisfaction, but the receipts only reached some £70 or £80; of which to the present moment I have been unable to obtain my share.

As I had to pay Mdlle. Fohström £50, Del Puente £40, and all the others in proportion, I found myself, counting the hotel bills, some £180 out of pocket.

The day after the concert we all reached London. As it was now the 18th of June it was too late to think of giving a London season; and my doings were limited to my benefit, which took place at Drury Lane under the immediate patronage of Her Majesty the Queen and H.R.H. the Prince of Wales. Mdme. Patti volunteered her services on this occasion, the Theatre, kindly placed at my disposal by Mr. Augustus Harris, being crowded.

CHAPTER XV.

SHORTLY afterwards I organized a very strong opera party, determining, during the coming September, to revisit the English provinces, which I had rather neglected during the previous seven or eight years. I, therefore, arranged to visit Dublin, Cork, Liverpool, Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Birmingham, etc., etc., resolved on giving a series of excellent performances. Engagements were concluded with Mdlle. Alma Fohström, Mdme. Nordica, Mdlle. Dotti, Mdlle. Marie Engle, Mdme. Hastreiter, Mdlle. Bianca Donadio, Mdlle. Jenny Broch, together with Signor Frapolli, Signor Runcio, Signor Del Puente, Signor Padilla, Signor Ciampi, Signor Vetta, a promising young basso, and Signer Foli; my conductors being Signor Arditi and Signor Vianesi.

My performances were admirably given; which was readily acknowledged by the whole of the provincial Press. But during the seven or eight years I had been away a younger generation had grown up and the elder ones had gone elsewhere. Inferior English Opera seemed now to be preferred to my grand Italian Opera; and it was only after I had been playing three or four nights in a town that the public began to understand the superiority of the latter.

In Dublin we had to feel our way with the performances, which culminated on the last night with a crowded house. I was anxiously expecting the arrival of Mdlle. Fohström, who had been delayed in Russia through the illness of a relative. She made her appearance at Dublin in the latter part of September to one of the most crowded houses I have ever seen.

We afterwards visited Cork, where I fear, as in Mdme. Gerster's case some years previously, Mdlle. Fohström took the germs of typhoid fever, which developed some ten days afterwards. Whilst singing at the grand concert of the Liverpool Philharmonic the lady found herself scarcely able to move, much to the astonishment of myself as well as the Committee. She, however, got through her work, and came on to Manchester, where she lay in bed for nearly three months, which was, of course, a great drawback to our success.

At Manchester, which is a great musical centre, our receipts the first week were miserable. But with the commencement of our second and last week they gradually increased, until there was not standing room. I endeavoured in vain to buy off another Company in order to continue our success.

Again, in Glasgow, where our old triumphs had been evidently forgotten, we played to most miserable receipts until the second week, when gradually the business grew until we had to refuse money. In fact, I had to re-take the theatre, and return there a fortnight afterwards, when on my last performance of Il Flauto Magico people were paying 10s. for standing room, while private boxes fetched London prices.

We next moved on to Birmingham, where my sole consolation was the admirable articles, making over a column in each of the daily papers, which appeared the morning after each representation, according the most unstinted praise to my really excellent performances. We afterwards left for Brighton, where we closed up just before Christmas.

Very early in the following month I started my Spring concert tour, visiting some forty cities in as many days, and meeting with great artistic success in every place we stopped at. My party consisted of Mdme. Nordica, Mdme. Marie Engle, Mdme. Hélène Hastreiter, and Mdlle. Louise Dotti; likewise Signori Runcio, Del Puente, and Vetta, with M. Jaquinot as solo violinist. No more excellent artistic party could have been put together; but here, again, the provincial public, not knowing my singers, attended with great caution; preferring old names to the young voices I had with me.

In Liverpool, as well as in Bradford, both said to be great musical centres (?), the receipts were nil.

We finished up in Dublin, where, as usual, the houses were crowded with large and appreciative audiences. The Irish, thoroughly understanding music, and judging for themselves, crammed the hall, and encored every piece.

In England, as a rule, singers take some years to acquire a reputation; but having once got it, they can never get rid of it.

I recollect hearing Mr. Braham sing when he was 82; and he was applauded. We are a conservative nation, and value old friends as we do old port wine.

Both on the Continent and in America I have been frequently interrogated as to why the London opera season is held at a time when it is next to impossible for so many patrons and supporters of music to attend on account of the numberless fêtes, flower shows, balls, garden parties, races, &c., that are taking place; to say nothing of the Crystal Palace, the Alexandra Palace, and (as regards the present season of 1888) the Irish, Danish, and Italian Exhibitions.

I, of course, could make no reply, being fully aware that alike in France, Spain, Austria, Germany, Italy, Russia, America, etc., the opera season begins generally about the third week in October; at a time when all outdoor attractions have ended. In the countries above mentioned dances and balls are, it is true, given during the winter months, whereas in London these social gatherings generally take place when the weather is extremely hot; and, as a rule, the smaller the house the greater the number of the guests invited.

In former times the London season was set by the opera; and its beginning usually coincided with the arrival of the singers from abroad, who in those days had to cross in sailing vessels, and would only come in fine weather.

Returning to London in the latter part of February, I decided on opening the Royal Italian Opera early in March; for which purpose I formed an admirable Company, consisting in the prima donna department of Mdlle. Alma Fohström, Mdlle. Emma Nevada, Mdlle. Jenny Broch, Mdlle. Marie Engle, Mdlle. Lilian Nordica, Mdlle. Louise Dotti, Mdlle. Hélène Hastreiter, Mdlle. Borghi, Mdlle. Bauermeister, Mdme. Lablache, Mdlle. Rosina Isidor, and Mdme. Minnie Hauk; my tenors being Signor Ravelli, M. Caylus, and Signor Garulli; my baritones Signor Padilla, Signor Del Puente, and M. Lhérie; with Signor Miranda, Signor Vetta, Signor de Vaschetti, and Signor Foli as basses, Signor Ciampi as buffo, and Signor Logheder as musical conductor—in which capacity he proved most efficient. I moreover introduced two danseuses of remarkable excellence, Mdlle. Dell'Era and Mdlle. Hayten; both of whom must have left a favourable impression.

The novelties I produced were Leila (Bizet's Pêcheurs de Perles); and Gounod's Mirella, for the first time since twenty-five years. Thus Mirella was practically a new opera. Both works were newly mounted, and both made their mark artistically.

But the season being a short one, and having no spare capital, I could not resort to my old Faust and Carmen plan and hammer the music of Leila into people's heads. Consequently my production of the work did not meet with the financial success it should have done. The day will, however, come when it will form an attractive gem in the operatic crown. Leila is readily accepted all over the Continent; and even in Italy has been the mainstay of some twelve or fourteen opera-houses. Here, unfortunately, at its first production, many of the Pressmen were absent; and at its repetition no further notice was taken of it—though numbers of the public rely entirely upon what the newspapers say for their opinions and views.

The same fate awaited Gounod's Mirella—another most charming opera, in which Mdlle. Nevada sang to perfection.

The season continued for upwards of eight weeks, and was a pronounced success, both artistically and financially. It terminated about the middle of May. As I knew that London would be full of strangers on account of Her Majesty's Jubilee, I rented Her Majesty's Theatre, and on taking possession of it discovered it to be in a most desolate state. There was not a scene or a rope in working order, and the interior of the theatre was in a most deplorable condition, entailing upon me considerable expense for cleaning and restoring, painting, papering, carpeting, etc. There was nearly a mile of corridors and staircases to whiten, paper, paint, and carpet.

I opened a fortnight afterwards, when I again brought forward a powerful Company, including such valuable new-comers as Mdlle. Lilli Lehmann, Mdme. Trebelli (after an absence of eight years), and Mdlle. Oselio.

The season commenced most auspiciously on Saturday, June 4. But soon there was a difficulty with the orchestra, for there were now two other Italian Operas going on. It was impossible to induce the players I had engaged to attend rehearsals. There were Philharmonic, Richter, and other concerts in full swing; and although I paid them weekly salaries I could never command the services of my musicians for rehearsal, even though I closed my theatre at night for the purpose. I therefore had to suspend the representations for a week and form another orchestra, in order that I might sufficiently rehearse Boito's Mefistofele, which I had then in preparation. Ultimately I succeeded in bringing out that work, when, as on its first performance, it met with considerable success. This was followed by the rentrée of Mdlle. Lilli Lehmann in Beethoven's Fidelio, which was probably the grandest and most perfect performance given in London for many years. In the meantime I placed Bizet's masterpiece, Leila, in rehearsal.

About this time the Royal Jubilee excitement began, followed by extremely hot weather; and notwithstanding the brilliant performances given the house was empty nightly, the public preferring the free show they got out of doors, in the shape of processions, illuminations, etc., to performances at the theatre, where the temperature was now averaging 90°, notwithstanding all I did to keep it cool.

In fact, the only receipts I got for the purpose of paying my way were from the letting of the exterior of my theatre instead of the interior; seats on the roof fetching £1 apiece, whilst windows were let for £40. These receipts helped to provide the sinews of war for carrying on my arduous enterprise.

I now bestirred myself in order to obtain some attraction that would replenish the depleted operatic chest. My efforts seemed rewarded when I secured the services of Mdme. Adelina Patti, at the small salary of £650 per night. Mdme. Patti in due course made her first appearance at Her Majesty's Theatre in her favourite rôle of "Violetta" in La Traviata, when there was £1,000 in the house. My hopes, however, of recouping my heavy losses were dashed almost instantly to the ground. Mdme. Patti having accepted an invitation from a wealthy banker for a trip up the river, to be followed by a dinner, she took a violent cold, from having been placed in a draught with a light muslin dress on. The next evening Mdlle. Lilli Lehmann again made the old theatre ring with her magnificent impersonation of "Fidelio." The house, however, was nearly empty, all attention being directed to the next night, which was to be Patti's second appearance—in Il Barbiere di Siviglia.

At five o'clock, however, on the evening of the performance, Signor Nicolini came in to inform me that Patti was too ill to sing, but that I might rely upon her services the following Saturday, when she would appear as "Margherita" in Faust, transferring the Barbiere performance to the following Tuesday. He himself added to the programme an announcement to the effect that she would introduce in the lesson scene the valse from Romeo and Juliet.

It being too late to substitute another opera, I had no alternative but to close the theatre that evening, leaving hundreds of carriage folks who had sent their coachmen home to get away as best they could, disappointed, and declaring (in many cases) that there was no reliance to be placed on Mapleson!

On the following Friday, finding that the booking for the second Patti night was very light, the public having lost all confidence, as is generally the case after a disappointment, I suggested to Mdme. Patti and to Nicolini that a small allowance ought to be made towards the vast expenses I had incurred (rent, salaries to artists, band, chorus, &c.) while keeping the theatre closed, which her incautiousness of the previous Sunday up the Thames had alone prevented me from opening.

The following day Signor Nicolini offered to contribute a sum of £50. I replied that that would be scarcely enough for the orchestra, and that the entire representation would be jeopardized. He thereupon went home, stating that Mdme. Patti would not sing that evening unless the orchestra was duly secured.

I immediately made arrangements with my orchestra, and notified the fact to Mdme. Patti by half-past three o'clock through her agent at her hotel, who, after seeing her, informed me that it was all right. She was then lying down in view of the evening performance, for which her dresses had already been looked out by herself and her maid.

Just as I was leaving the hotel Mr. Abbey came downstairs, and accompanied me to the ticket-office, adjoining the theatre, the proprietors of which were large speculators for the occasion. On ascertaining that some four or five hundred of the best seats had not been disposed of—the public naturally holding back until Mdme. Patti should have made her reappearance after the disappointment they had experienced—Mr. Abbey informed me that Mdme. Patti should not sing that evening. I may here mention that the full £650, being the amount of her honorarium, was already deposited to her credit at the bank, so that it was not on the score of money matters that her services were refused.

I waited until eight o'clock for the arrival of Mdme. Patti, her room being prepared for her; but no message was sent, nor any notification whatever, that she was not coming down. After the previous disappointments the public had met with I could not find heart to close the theatre. I, therefore, informed the numbers who were then getting out of their carriages and gradually filling the grand vestibule that I would perform the opera of Carmen, and that I invited all present to attend as my guests; adding that their money would be returned to them on presentation of their tickets. This, of course, it was.

As to the gratuitous representation of Carmen (with Trebelli in the principal part), it went off admirably. The audience was numerous and enthusiastic; and among the distinguished persons who honoured me with their presence, was, I remember, H.R.H. the Duchess of Edinburgh.

I wrote to Mdme. Patti the following day, entreating her not further to disappoint the public, and to stand by the announcement Signor Nicolini had given me of her appearance the following Tuesday in Il Barbiere. To this I had no reply; and I afterwards learned that Mdme. Patti had gone off by a special morning train to Wales, to avoid meeting the chorus and employés who, hearing of her probable flight, had assembled in large bodies at Paddington to give her a manifestation of their disapprobation.

I was now placed in a most difficult position, and left to struggle on as best I could, having some three weeks' rent still to pay for the use of the theatre until the end of the month; together with the salaries of singers, choristers, bill-posters, supernumeraries, orchestra, etc., etc. These unfortunate people were actually following me in the street, clamouring for money. There were, moreover, some sixty Italian choristers, whose travelling expenses had to be provided for to send them home to Italy. In fact the Opera Colonnade had become a regular Babel, and it was only by dint of hard work amongst my numerous friends that I was enabled to collect funds and see the last of my chorus singers depart.

This affair threw me into contact with several supernumeraries as well as bill-board men, and I was very much interested to hear their different histories. One man, who had been a "Sandwich," gave me the following account of his life:—

THE "SANDWICH'S" STORY.

"I was formerly," he said, "a captain in the—— Regiment, and many a time have I paid my six guineas for a box at your Opera, both in Edinburgh and in London. Subsequently I began to take a great interest in the turf, and soon met with heavy losses, which compelled me to give various promissory notes. This at last came to the knowledge of my colonel, who recommended me to leave the regiment without delay. Having nothing to live upon, and being a fair performer on the cornet à piston, I joined a travelling circus, and ultimately came across your Opera Company in Philadelphia, where I was one of your stage band. Later on I joined a party who were bound for the diamond fields in South Africa, where I was most unsuccessful; and I had to work my passage home in a sailing ship, till I got to London, where I became a supernumerary under your management at Drury Lane.

"During your third season an aunt of mine died, and I found myself the possessor of £10,000. My cousin, who was largely interested in building operations, which he assured me paid him at least 60 per cent., induced me to place half my fortune in his speculations. His houses were in the west part of London, which had been considerably overbuilt; and being mortgaged they would have been lost but for my paying away the remainder of my fortune with the view of saving them. In spite of this the mortgagee foreclosed, and I again became a supernumerary, when, in the mimic fight in the second act of Trovatore, one of my companions by mere accident with a point of a spear put my eye out.

"I was now no longer qualified for engagement even as a supernumerary, and I became a 'sandwich' man. My duties during the last four and a half years have been to parade Bond Street and Regent Street, receiving as payment ninepence a day."

On my handing the poor man his salary and settling up he at first declined to take the money, saying that I had done him so many kindnesses at different periods of his life that now, when I was in trouble myself, he could not think of taking his week's pay. I, however, not only insisted upon his accepting it, but gave him a sovereign for himself. The unfortunate gentleman, as he showed himself to the last, went away blessing me.

CHAPTER XVI.

ALTHOUGH an operatic impresario cannot reasonably count on making his own fortune, it is often a source of satisfaction to him to reflect that he in his lavish expenditure makes the fortune of singers, officials, and various people in his service. At the time when I was in my greatest trouble through the disappointments I had to put up with from some of my leading singers, I heard that an enterprising Italian who had been employed by me for many years had taken the New York Academy of Music for a brief season, and that he was actually performing the duties of manager.

Angelo was, or rather is, a very remarkable man. I engaged him many years ago as my servant at 10s. a week, and he is now said to be in possession of some thousands or even tens of thousands of pounds, which he gained while in my service by turning his opportunities and his talents to ingenious account. Angelo is well known in the United States, chiefly by the unwashed condition of his linen. Reversing the custom by which, in England and America, gentlemen who cannot trust their memory to keep appointments write with a black pencil the time and place on one of their wrist-bands, Angelo used to write on his wrist-band, as nearly as possible black, with a piece of white chalk which, primarily with a view to billiards, he used to carry in his pocket. I mention this as an example of his proneness to imitation, and also of his economical habits.

How, it will be asked, did he amass a fortune in my service when I was paying him only at the rate of 10s. a week?

He began by starting a claque of which he constituted himself chief, and which was at the service of any of my singers who chose to pay for it. He was always ready, moreover, to act as interpreter. There was no language which he did not speak in courier fashion more or less well; and as in a modern operatic Company artists from such outlandish countries as Spain and Russia as well as from Italy, France, and Germany are to be found, Angelo's talents were often called into requisition by singers who did not understand one another and who were altogether ignorant of English.

Angelo knew where to buy cheap cigars, and he used to make the members of my Company buy them as dear ones. He speculated, moreover, largely and advantageously in vermuth, which he sold in the United States for at least a dollar a bottle more than he had paid for it in Italy. Campanini acted as his friend and accomplice in these vermuth sales. Entering a bar, in no matter what American city, the great tenor would call for a glass of vermuth. "Pah!" he would exclaim when he had tasted what the bar-keeper had offered him. Then, after making many wry faces, he spat out the liquor which had so grievously offended him.

"Where did you get this horrible stuff?" he would then inquire. "Vermuth? It is not vermuth at all. What did the rascal who sold it to you charge for it?"

"Three dollars a bottle."

"And here is a gentleman," pointing to Angelo, "who has genuine vermuth of the finest quality and will sell you as much as you like for two dollars a bottle."

The bar-keeper thought, with reason, that an eminent Italian tenor like Campanini must know good vermuth from bad, and at once bought from Angelo a case or two of the true vermuth di Torino.

Angelo, in addition to his other talents, is a first-rate cook, and in the preparation of certain Italian dishes, dear to those born in the "land of song," has scarcely an equal. He was too important a personage to act as cook to any one singer; but on the Atlantic passage he would take a pound a-head from some thirty different vocalists in order to see that each of them was provided with Italian cookery during the voyage.

Angelo made most of his money, however, by speculating in opera tickets during my Patti seasons. He had, of course, peculiar facilities for getting (unknown to me) almost as many tickets as he wanted at box-office prices; and he could count as a matter of certainty on selling them at enormous premiums—often as much as two or three pounds a-piece.

During the retreat from Frisco, seeing that there would be a scarcity of food along the line, he laid in a stock of provisions, which he retailed at enormous profits.

Angelo had made himself a prominent figure in connection with my Company, and was frequently spoken of in the newspapers. On our arrival at New York he waited upon the Secretary of the Academy, as I found out some time afterwards, and actually took the building from him for a season of opera, which was to begin in the following October. He accompanied us, however, to London as though nothing had happened. He returned at the appointed time to America, taking with him a company which included Mdme. Valda, Giannini, and others. When his prospectus came out I noticed two announcements which struck me as strange in connection with his costumes and music. The former, said the prospectus, had been "lent" by Zamperoni, the latter by Ricordi and Mdme. Lucca. They would not, then, be liable to seizure. He had taken the precaution to secure what he considered a proper reception at New York. Thus he had hired a steam tug with a brass band on board. This excited the mirth of all the New York journals.

When the season began Angelo on the opening night occupied my box, wearing for the first time in his life a white shirt; and it was noticed that when he made memoranda on his cuffs he now did so with a black lead pencil.

After the first week, the salaries having become due, the theatre closed, and the would-be impresario found himself surrounded in his hotel by infuriated choristers, who, with drawn stilettos presented, formed a veritable chevaux de frise in front of him. Angelo appeared himself at the second floor window in order to hold parley with his aggressors at a safe distance, and for some days he remained confined to his hotel.

A public subscription was got up for the choristers to enable them to return to Europe, and Angelo himself now accepted an appointment as interpreter in Castle Garden, where he had to receive the emigrants, make known their wants, and give them instructions in whatever happened to be their native tongue; but he would do nothing for them unless they began by buying a certain number of his detestable but high-priced cigars. Even Dr. Gardini, the husband of the distinguished prima donna, Mdme. Gerster, was actually afraid in Angelo's presence to smoke any cigars but his. I remember on one occasion giving Dr. Gardini an Havanna of the finest brand. He knew that Angelo, who was acting at the time as chef de claque to Mdme. Gerster, would, if he came in, recognize at once its superior flavour; and when the door-keeper suddenly entered to tell me that Angelo wished to speak to me for a moment, the doctor thought it politic to throw aside the cigar I had given him and replace it by one of Angelo's vile weeds.

As to Angelo's exact pecuniary position at this moment it is difficult to speak with certainty. Some say that he is without a shilling, and my baritone, Signor de Anna, declares that he accommodated him with that sum a few weeks ago when he was passing through New York. According to other accounts he is a millionaire, with his millions safely invested in Italian securities.

To return to my own managerial business. I now fitted out an expedition for the following October, when I proposed to make an operatic tour throughout Great Britain and Ireland. Some few days before my departure I was much astonished at an embargo being laid on all my costumes and music under a bill of sale, voluntarily given by me to two friends, in order to secure a sum which they had advanced as subscribers for the previous season; which, but for Mdme. Patti's refusal to sing, would have been completed. I thought that, under the circumstances, my friends might have waited until after the tour had started. This incident prevented me from getting away at the appointed time, and I was delayed in London for nearly a week with the whole of my artists and chorus on my hands. I, however, got over this difficulty, and left for Ireland with a most attractive Company.

We opened in Dublin about the middle of October with an excellent performance of Carmen; Minnie Hauk not having appeared there since ten years previously on our way to America for our first visit, when Bizet's opera was totally unknown. On this occasion we were rewarded with a very crowded audience. Mdme. Rolla made her début as "Michaela," in which she met with great success; Del Puente, of course, being the "Toreador."

On the following night Mdlle. Dotti appeared as "Leonora" in Trovatore, when the house was again crowded. The third night was devoted to the Barbiere, for which I expected Mdlle. Arnoldson, who did not turn up. The part was, therefore, undertaken by Mdme. Rolla, who met with great success. Some eight months previously it had been agreed with Ravelli, prior to his departure for South America, that he should return to me in Ireland for this engagement, and I must give him credit this time for having kept his word. He had been travelling continuously for over seven weeks, and, landing at Bordeaux, had to work his way on to Dublin, where he joined the Company. There was now no murderous feeling between him and Minnie Hauk; they seemed to be the best of friends. I felt sure, however, that this reconciliation would be only temporary. I remained in Dublin a fortnight, during which time I produced Le Nozze di Figaro, and Ernani, with Mdme. Rolla's excellent impersonation of "Elvira" and Signor De Anna's superb rendering of "Carlo V." This was followed by Don Giovanni, Faust, Rigoletto, Il Flauto Magico, in which the whole Company took part, the exceptionally difficult rôle of the "Queen of Night" being undertaken with great effect by Mdlle. Marie Decca. I afterwards left for Cork, where the Company met with great artistic success, the Press notices being more favourable than they had ever been on previous visits.

On the 29th October, being the centenary of Mozart's Don Giovanni, I was determined to celebrate the event with due circumstance; and the great opera was given with the following very efficient cast:—"Donna Anna," Mdlle. Louise Dotti; "Donna Elvira," Mdme. Rolla; "Zerlina," Mdme. Minnie Hauk; "Don Ottavio," Signor Ravelli; "Leporello," Signor Caracciolo; "Il Commendatore," M. Abramoff; "Masetto," Signor Rinaldini; and "Don Giovanni," Signor Padilla; conductor, Signor Arditi.

I had arranged at the close of the first act to place a bust of Mozart on the stage, executing at the same time the grand chorus of the Magic Flute while the High Sheriff of the County crowned the immortal composer. Alas! there was no bust of Mozart to be obtained. But the property-man reported that he had one of Parnell, which, by the removal of the beard and some other manipulation, could be made to resemble Mozart. The High Sheriff having declined to perform the ceremony in connection with the bust of Parnell, the Mayor of Cork immediately volunteered to replace him. The public soon got wind of what was going on; and, fearing a popular commotion—as this very day the city had been proclaimed in consequence of the Land League meetings—I had to content myself with performing the opera as Mozart originally intended.

The part of the dissolute "Don" was superbly rendered by Signor Padilla, the eminent Spanish baritone, whose appearance reminded me forcibly of Mario. He had just returned from Prague, where Mozart's centenary had been duly celebrated, the whole of the arrangements having been left in his hands. He told me many interesting stories concerning his researches in the museums and libraries that had been placed by the Government at his disposal during his stay there, which extended over some five or six weeks. He succeeded in ascertaining the correct date of the original production of Don Giovanni at Prague. The authorities in Paris insisted that it had been first performed on the 27th October, 1787, and they even went so far as to regulate their centenary performance by that day. Signor Padilla, however, obtained the original play-bill from the National Library, in which it was clearly set forth that Il Don Giovanni, Ossia, Il Dissoluto Punito was first produced on the 29th day of October, 1787.

In my representation the absurd scene of "Don Giovanni" surrounded by a lot of stage demons flashing their torches of resin all over him was, of course, omitted. He simply went below in the hands of the Uomo di Pietra.

This reminds me of an amateur operatic performance we once had at Woolwich, in which I took part for the benefit of some regimental charities.

I was dining at my Club with some friends when the performance was first suggested. It was decided to give Rigoletto, in which I was asked to undertake the part of the Duke; this to be followed by the last act of Don Giovanni.

I, of course, said "Yes," as I usually do to everything; and before the dinner was over so many bets had been made on the question whether or not I would appear as the "Duke of Mantua" that, on making up my book, I found I must either play the arduous part or pay some £300 or £400. I determined on the former course.

I, of course, kept the matter a profound secret from all connected with my theatre. On the night of the performance, on the rising of the curtain, I was horrified in the midst of my first aria at seeing Mdme. Titiens, Mdme. Trebelli, Sir Michael Costa, and Adelina Patti amongst the audience; and it required some nerve to pull myself together and continue the part. I succeeded, however, in obtaining the customary encore for the "La donna è mobile" and for the quartett; and on the whole I believe I acquitted myself well. So, at least, said the notices which, to my astonishment, appeared next morning in the daily papers.

A catastrophe occurred at the close of the last scene, where the late Colonel Goodenough, in the character of "Rigoletto," had to mourn over the corpse of the murdered "Gilda." At the rehearsal a man had been placed in the sack, but he was too heavy to be dragged out; and, as Colonel Goodenough was very nervous, the property-man made the sack lighter by placing inside some straw and two large bladders full of air. Just as the curtain was descending Goodenough, who was a very heavy man, threw himself for the final lament on to the corpse of his daughter, when a loud explosion took place, one of the bladders having burst.

The performance concluded with the last act of Don Giovanni, in which Colonel Stracey undertook the part of the dissolute "Don." The demons were gunners from the Royal Artillery. It was most ludicrous, every time the Colonel gave the slightest stage direction as to where these men were to go and when they were to take hold of him and carry him down, to see the eight demons all give the military salute at the same time. Stracey told them not to salute him, on which they said "No, Colonel!" and gave another salute.

On leaving Cork we had to return to Dublin, where, in consequence of enormous success, we were called upon to give an extra week. We finished up on the following Saturday evening with a performance of Wallace's Maritana, in the Italian language, to a house literally packed to the very roof. Ravelli sang the part of "Don Cæsar;" and being encored in "Let me like a soldier fall," gave it the second time in English.

We afterwards went to Liverpool, when suddenly Mdme. Minnie Hauk, without a moment's warning, left the Company. Two days afterwards I received a medical certificate from Dr. Weber, to the effect that the lady was in a precarious state of health, and utterly voiceless, so that it was necessary for her to go to a certain mountain in Switzerland to recover her health. It was the month of December.

I afterwards ascertained that en route she had sung at three concerts for her own benefit.

We next visited Nottingham, Manchester, Birmingham, Bristol, Brighton, etc., concluding at the last-named town just before Christmas with a memorable performance of Maritana, when the curtain had to be raised no less than five times.

On the termination of the season we returned to London, where the Company disbanded for the holidays, my Italian chorus being now sent back to Italy.

It costs £8 to get an Italian chorus singer from his native land to England; and this seems money wasted when one reflects that just as good voices are to be found in this country as in Italy. If such a thing as a permanent Opera could be established in London arrangements might be made by which it would look for its chorus to one or more of our numerous musical academies, which at present seem to exist and to be multiplied solely to deluge the country with music teachers, whose keen competition lessens daily the value of their services. When the Royal Academy of Music was established the Earl of Westmorland, who presided at the first meeting of the promoters, said, in reference to the expected advantages of such an institution, that he hoped to see the day when music lessons would be given in England at the rate of 6d. an hour.

A nice time music teachers will have when ten hours' work a day will give them an income of 30s. a week! But what, if not music teachers, are the pupils of our four leading musical academies to become? The Royal Academy of Music, the Royal College of Music, the Guildhall School of Music, and Dr. Wylde's London Academy of Music must send out annually some thousand or two well-taught musicians who have nothing to turn to but teaching.

Except among the richer classes almost everyone who studies music ends by teaching music to someone else. Such is his fate whatever may have been his ambition. What, except a music teacher, or an orchestral player, or, by rare good luck, a concert singer, is he or she to become? In other countries there is an established musical theatre with which the recognized Academy of Music is in connection, and which in some measure depends upon it as upon a feeder. The students of the Paris Conservatoire sing in the chorus of the Grand Opera; and those students who gain prizes, or otherwise distinguish themselves, obtain an appearance, as a matter of course, at the great Lyrical Theatre, for which they may be said to have been specially trained. In England, however, we occupy ourselves exclusively with the teaching of music, never in any manner dealing with the question what the students are to do when their period of study is at an end. In other countries there is together with one musical academy one Opera-house. Here we have four musical academies and not one permanent operatic establishment.

Such is the national mania for establishing schools of music that a few years ago some £200,000 was collected for establishing a new musical academy with, for the most part, the same professors as those already employed at existing academies; and an attempt, moreover, was made to shelve Sir Arthur Sullivan (who may yet, it is to be hoped, compose an opera), by placing him at the head of this quite superfluous establishment. More recently Sir Arthur refused to allow himself to be shackled in the manner contemplated; and not many years afterwards another composer, Mr. A. C. Mackenzie, who has already proved himself capable of writing fine dramatic music, was put on the retired list in similar fashion. Mozart, Rossini, Auber, Bellini, Verdi studied at no academy; and my friend Verdi was rejected from the Conservatorio of Milan as incapable of passing the entrance examination. We, however, hope everything from music schools though we have nothing to offer our composers or our singers when, in a theoretical sort of way, they have once been formed. The money wasted in establishing the Royal College of Music might have been usefully spent in founding a permanent lyrical theatre for which our young composers might have worked, on whose boards our young vocalists might have sung. Thus only, by practice in presence of the public, can composers and singers perfect themselves in their difficult art. It should be remembered too that for operatic music the best school is an operatic establishment where fine performances can be heard.

The unhappy students, meanwhile, receive but small benefit from their tuition, seeing that they are simply turned out to swell the ranks of indigent teachers. No capital in Europe has anything like so many music schools as London, and no capital in Europe is so entirely without the means of offering suitable work to students who have once qualified themselves for performing it. We have some twenty or thirty theatres in London without one school of acting; which is possibly a mistake. But it is not such a bad mistake as to have four large music schools without one lyrical theatre. Nothing can be more preposterous. Yet there is at this moment more chance of a fifth music school being established than of an Opera-house being founded at which the shoals of composers and vocalists shot out every year would have an opportunity of pursuing their profession.

Sixty years ago, since which time we are supposed to have made progress in musical as in other matters, the Royal Academy of Music, which has produced so many excellent singers, instrumentalists, and composers, was intimately connected with the King's Theatre. Its students sang in the Opera chorus, and every fortnight gave performances of their own, at which leading vocalists, choristers, and orchestra were exclusively from the Academy. These performances took place in the King's Concert Room, a sort of annexe to the theatre in which the performances of Italian Opera were given.

Nor in those days were singers who happened to be English ashamed to call themselves by their own names. The present custom of Italianizing English names as the only process by which they can be made fit for presentation to the public is much more modern than is generally known. Even in our own time two admirable vocalists, Mr. Sims Reeves and Mr. Santley, have had the manliness to reject all suggestions for Italianizing their names. The foreign musicians, often of the highest eminence, who have settled amongst us, seem, on the other hand, to have taken a pride in passing themselves off as Englishmen. Handel is always called in the bills of the period Mr. Handel; Costa (until he was knighted) was always Mr. Costa; Hallé (until he also was knighted) Mr. Hallé; Benedict (until the moment when he was empowered to adopt the "Sir"), Mr. Benedict; Herren Karl Rosa, August Manns, Alberto Randegger, Wilhelm Ganz, and Wilhelm Kuhe (whose knighthood has not yet reached them), are Mr. Carl Rosa, Mr. Manns, Mr. Randegger, Mr. Ganz, and Mr. Kuhe. It cannot be a disgrace even for a musician to be an Englishman, or so many foreign musicians of eminence would not so readily have called themselves "Mr."

An English vocalist, on the other hand, will not hesitate to pass himself off, so far as a name can assist him in his enterprise, as some sort of foreigner. My old pal, Jack Foley, becomes Signor Foli, and the Signor sticks to him through life. We have a Signor Sinclair, a name which seems to me as droll as that of Count Smith at the San Francisco Hotel. Provincial managers have often entreated me to use my influence with Mr. Santley in order to make him change his name to Signor Santalini, which they assured me would look better in the programme, and bring more money into the house. A Mr. Walker being engaged to appear at Her Majesty's Theatre, called himself on doing so Signor Valchieri (Signor Perambulatore would certainly have been better); and a well-known American singer, Mr. John Clarke, of Brooklyn, transformed himself on joining my Company into Signor Giovanni Chiari di Broccolini. The English and American young ladies who now sing in such numbers on the Italian stage take the prefix not of Signora or Signorina, but of Madame or Mademoiselle. This, also, is confusing.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN the early part of January, 1888, I gave forty-two grand concerts in forty-two different cities, commencing in Dublin, where I was placed in a position of the greatest difficulty by the non-arrival of Padilla, the baritone, Ravelli, the tenor, and my principal soloist, Van Biene, who was laid up with rheumatism; so that it was only with the greatest difficulty that I could even make a beginning. In due course Ravelli arrived, but with such a cold that he was unable to speak. I, therefore, had to proceed to the south of Ireland minus a tenor and a baritone. I succeeded, however, in replacing the instrumentalist by M. Rudersdorf, the eminent violoncellist, who resides in Dublin.

Prior to going to Belfast, towards the latter part of the week, Signor Padilla joined us, and for the next evening in Dublin all was arranged for the appearance of Ravelli, who had been living the whole week with his wife in the hotel at my expense. On notifying him to go to the concert, he replied that he must be paid a week's salary for the time during which he had been sick or he would not open his mouth. He conducted himself in so disrespectful a manner that he deserved, I told him, to be taken to the concert-room by force. I had scarcely made a movement of my hand as in explanation when he thought I was going to strike him, and made a rush at me in a most violent way, kicking up in the French style in all directions, while his wife assisted him by coming behind me with a chair.

I knew that if I injured him in the slightest degree there would be no concert that night. Meanwhile he was going full tilt at me to strike me in any way he possibly could, and it taxed my ingenuity to stop all action on his part without injuring him. It was fortunate I did so, as, after he had calmed down, seeing me in earnest, he dressed himself and went on to the concert. All this occurred only half an hour before its commencement. Afterwards Ravelli sang with comparative regularity.

Business, however, was not what it ought to have been, in consequence of the absence of favourite names from the programme. The musical excellence of my Company was beyond question, but the public must have old names of some kind or other, whether with voices or not, to ensure an audience.

We reached Leicester some four days afterwards. On the Company arriving in a body at the hotel, the hostess looked at us with amazement, and asked me if I had not come to the wrong town, since no announcement whatever had appeared as to any concert taking place. I thereupon made inquiries and found the landlady's statement to be perfectly true. All the printed matter—bills and programmes—previously sent on was discovered hidden away; and the person who had undertaken the arrangement of the concert, being in difficulties, had been unable even to announce our coming in the newspapers.

I, of course, insisted upon giving the concert, and as evening approached some half-dozen people who were accidentally passing purchased tickets. The performance proceeded in due form, and Ravelli, much to his disgust, obtained an encore from his audience of six.

In a hall adjoining I heard excellent singing, as if from a large chorus. I at once saw a way of giving encouragement to my artists, who were going on with the concert. On entering I found that the local Philharmonic Society was practising. It included many of the leading ladies and gentlemen of Leicester, and numbered altogether some two or three hundred singers.

I told the conductor that a capital concert was going on in the adjoining hall, to which I invited all present. If he would suspend the rehearsal they could go and help themselves to the best seats. Great astonishment was evinced amongst the six members of our public when they suddenly found the room filling with a well-dressed and distinguished audience, who were so delighted with the excellence of the performance that they encored every piece. Prior to the close of the concert I thought it was better to address a few words to my visitors, in which I stated that the concert, having been given secretly, without the knowledge of the town, I should look upon it as a private rehearsal only; and that it was my intention to return to Leicester some two or three weeks afterwards, when the public performance would take place. On leaving the hall my new audience booked some £20 or £30 worth of seats to make sure of obtaining places at my next visit.

When I returned shortly afterwards the Concert Hall was packed from floor to ceiling, and I was even requested to come back and give a third entertainment. The Press declared that no better concert had ever been given in Leicester.

We afterwards visited Cheltenham, Bristol, Exeter, and some twenty other cities, in each of which we were considerably handicapped by amateurs giving concerts for the entertainment of other amateurs; neither performers nor listeners seeming to have any high idea of art.

On reaching Cardiff Ravelli, without any reason, in the middle of the concert, said that he was indisposed, and walked home. As there was no other tenor present, and as it was impossible to continue the performance without one, I volunteered my services. I had previously notified the public; and after I had sung in the Trovatore duet I was recalled twice, and on taking an encore was again twice recalled. This helped us for the moment. But I have no intention of again appearing as a vocalist.

Ravelli, after going home to bed, had requested me to send for a doctor, as he was in a desperate state. The next morning, prior to leaving the town, I gave instructions to the landlady that proper care should be taken of him, adding that I would return in three or four days to see how he was progressing. I requested her, moreover, to paste up the windows to prevent any draught blowing into the room.

I then started with the Company to Exeter. On reaching that city I received a telegram from the landlady, stating that after my departure Mr. Ravelli had gone to Paris by the next train with his wife.

From Exeter we passed on to Plymouth and Torquay, where we gave a morning concert, remaining in that delightful watering-place till the following Monday morning, when we left for Salisbury; after which we visited Southampton, Southsea, Cambridge, Leicester, and Nottingham. The concert tour being now at an end, I returned to London.

Although both Mdme. Minnie Hauk and Signor Ravelli had left me on the plea of sickness without being seriously indisposed, I took no steps against either of them. For a time, I must admit, I thought of having recourse to the good services of my friend and solicitor—strange conjunction!—Mr. Russell Gole; who during my career as impresario has brought and defended for me actions innumerable, and invariably, I believe, with the best results that under the circumstances could have been obtained. The reader has already heard of Mr. Gole's ingenious suggestion at a time when for six minutes I was in the position of a bankrupt. During those memorable six minutes Mr. Registrar Hazlitt had occupied the position of an impresario, and it would be difficult to say whether at that momentous crisis he or I was most out of place. When Mr. Gole reminded him that he was now ex-officio the manager of Her Majesty's Theatre, and that advice was expected from him as to the cutting of Lohengrin, the making up of the ballet girls' petticoats, and the pacification of an insubordinate tenor, he sent for the Book of Practice, and after consulting it rescinded the order, observing that he did so "in the interest of the public."

Once more, only a few weeks ago, I stood in the presence of Mr. Registrar Hazlitt, and, as in the days of Sir Michael Costa's disputed cheque, had Mr. Russell Gole by my side. Once more, too, when an order of bankruptcy was impending over me it was withdrawn partly through the instrumentality of my solicitor, but mainly, of course, through the goodwill of my creditors, who subscribed among themselves sufficient money to pay into Court a sum which was at once accepted in liquidation of all claims.

I am generally regarded and have got into the habit of looking upon myself as a manager of Italian Opera. But, accepting that character, I do not think I can be fairly accused of exclusiveness as towards the works of German or even of English composers. Nor can I well be charged with having neglected the masterpieces of the lyric drama by whomsoever composed. For a great many years past no manager but myself has given performances of Cherubini's Medea. Fidelio is a work which, from the early days of Mdlle. Titiens until my last year at Her Majesty's Theatre, with Mdlle. Lilli Lehmann in the principal part, I have always been ready to present. I was the first manager to translate Wagner's Tannhäuser and Lohengrin into Italian, and the only one out of Germany who has been enterprising enough to produce the entire series of the Ring des Nibelungen.

As regards English Opera, Macfarren's Robin Hood and Wallace's Amber Witch owe their very existence to me. It was I who, at Her Majesty's Theatre in 1860-61, brought out both those works, which had been specially composed for the theatre. I myself adapted Balfe's Bohemian Girl to the Italian stage, and in the course of my last provincial tour I gave for the first time in Italian, and with remarkable success, the Maritana of Wallace.

Casting back my recollection over a long series of years I find that the only composer of undisputed influence and popularity whose propositions I could at no time accept were those of Jacques Offenbach; whom, however, in his own particular line I am far from undervaluing. The composer of La grande Duchesse de Gérolstein, La Belle Hélène, and a whole series of masterpieces in the burlesque style, tried to persuade me that his works were not so comic as people insisted on believing. They had, according to him, their serious side; and he sought to convince me that La Belle Hélène, produced at Her Majesty's Theatre with an increased orchestra, and with a hundred or more additional voices in the chorus, would prove a genuine artistic success. I must admit that I gave a moment's thought to the matter; but the project of the amiable maestro was not one that I could seriously entertain. I may here remind the reader that Offenbach began life as a composer of serious music. He was known in his youth as an admirable violoncellist, playing with wonderful expression all the best music written for the instrument he had adopted. He was musical conductor, moreover, at the Théâtre Français in the days when the "House of Molière" maintained an orchestra, and, indeed, a very good one. When Offenbach composed the choruses and incidental music for the Ulysse of M. Ponsard he did so in the spirit of Meyerbeer, who had undertaken to supply the music of the piece; and he then showed his aptitude for imitating the composer of Les Huguenots in a direct manner, as he afterwards did in burlesquing him.

Offenbach was destined not to be appreciated as a serious composer, though in one of his works, the little-known Contes d'Hoffmann, there is much music which, if not learned or profound, is at least artistic.

Had I agreed to Offenbach's offer, I was also to accept his services as conductor; which would have been more, I think, than Sir Michael Costa, who would have had to direct on alternate nights, would have been able to stand. Sir Michael was not only peculiarly sensitive, but also remarkably vindictive; and the engagement of Offenbach at a theatre where he was officiating would certainly have caused him no little resentment. He forgave no slight, nor even the appearance of one in cases where no real slight could possibly have been intended. When he left the Royal Italian Opera he was of opinion that the late Mr. Augustus Harris, who was Mr. Gye's stage manager at the time, should also have quitted the establishment; and carrying his hostile feelings in true vendetta fashion from father to son, he afterwards objected to the presence of the Augustus Harris of our own time, at any theatre where he, Sir Michael, might be engaged.

"Who is that young man?" he said to me one day when the future "Druriolanus" was acting as my stage manager. "He seems to know his business, but I think I heard you call him 'Harris.' Can he be the son of my enemy?"

I tried to explain to Sir Michael that the gentleman against whom he seemed to nourish some feeling of animosity could not be in any way his foe. But the great conductor would not see this. The father, he said, had shown himself his enemy, and he was himself the enemy of the son.

The hatred sometimes conceived by one singer for another of the same class of voice and playing the same parts, is, if not more reasonable, at least more intelligible. I shall never forget the rage which the tenor Fancelli once displayed on seeing the name of the tenor Campanini inscribed on a large box at a railway station with these proud words appended to it: "Primo Tenore Assoluto, Her Majesty's Opera Company." It was the epithet "assoluto" which, above all, raised Fancelli's ire. He rushed at the box, attacked the offending words with his walking-stick, and with the end of it tried to rub off the white letters composing the too ambitious adjective, "assoluto."

"Assoluto" was an epithet which Fancelli reserved for his own private use, and to which he alone among tenors considered himself justly entitled. Unfortunately, he could not write the word, reading and writing being accomplishments which had been denied to him from his youth upwards. He could just manage to scribble his own name in large schoolboy characters. But his letter-writing and his "autographs" for admiring ladies were done for him by a chorister, who was remunerated for his secretarial work at the rate of something like a penny Pickwick per month. The chorister, however, in agreeing to work on these moderate terms, knew that he had the illustrious tenor in his hands; and in moments of difficulty he would exact his own price and, refusing cheap cigars, accept nothing less than ready money.

Occasionally when the chorister was not at hand, or when he was called upon, to give his autograph in presence of other persons, Fancelli found himself in a sad plight; and I have a painful recollection of his efforts to sign his name in the album of the Liverpool Philharmonic Society, which contains the signatures of a large number of celebrated singers and musicians. In this musical Book of Gold Fancelli made an earnest endeavour to inscribe his name, which with the exception only of the "c" and one of the "l's" he succeeded in writing without the omission of any of the necessary letters. He had learned, moreover, to write the glorious words "Primo tenore," and in a moment of aspiration tried to add to them his favourite epithet of "assoluto." He had written a capital "A," followed by three "s's," when either from awkwardness or in order to get himself out of the scrape in which he already felt himself lost, he upset the inkstand over the page. Then he took up the spilt ink on his forefinger and transferred it to his hair; until at last, when he had obliterated the third "s," his signature stood in the book and stands now—

"FANELI PRIMO TENORE ASS—"

Some rude critics having declared of Signor Fancelli's singing that it would have been better if he had made a regular study of the vocal art, he spoke to me seriously about taking lessons. But he declared that he had no time, and that as he was making money by singing in the style to which he was accustomed it would be better to defer studying until he had finished his career, when he would have plenty of leisure.

About this time the strange idea occurred to him of endeavouring to master the meaning of the parts entrusted to him in the various operas.

"In Medea," he innocently remarked, "during the last two years I have played the part of a man named 'Jason'; but what he has to do with 'Medea,' I have never been able to make out. Am I her father, her brother, her lover, or what?"

Fancelli had begun life as a facchino or baggage porter at Leghorn, so that his ignorance, if lamentable, was at least excusable. On retiring from the stage he really applied himself to study; with what success I am unable to say. At his death he left a large sum of money.

It has often astonished me that singers without any education, musical or other, should be able to remember the words and music of their parts. Some of them resort to strange devices in order to supply the want of natural gifts; and one vocalist previously mentioned, Signor Broccolini, would write his "words" on whatever staff or stick he might happen to be carrying, or in default of any such "property," on the fingers and palm of his hand. In representing the statue of the Commander, in Don Giovanni, he inscribed beforehand the words he had to sing on the bâton carried by the Man of Stone; but to be able to read them it was necessary to know on which side in the scene of the cemetery the rays of the moon would fall. On one occasion he had majestically taken up his position on horseback, with the bâton grasped in his right hand, and reposing on his right hip, and was expecting a rush of moonlight from the left, when the position of the orb of night was suddenly changed, and he was unable to read one syllable of the words on which he depended. Having to choose between two difficulties, he at once selected the least, and, to the astonishment of the audience, transferred the Commander's bâton from the right hand to the left.

The vanity of an opera singer is generally in proportion to the lowness of his origin. This rule, however, does not seem to apply to dramatic artists, for I remember that when I once called upon Mdme. Ristori at Naples I found her principal actors and actresses, who had apparently begun life as domestic servants, continuing the occupations of their youth while at the same time impersonating on the stage the most exalted characters. "Sir Francis Drake" waited at table, the "Earl of Essex" opened the street door, "Leicester" acted as butler; and I have reason to believe that "Dirce" dressed "Medea's" hair.

Two more anecdotes as to the caprices and the exactions of vocalists. My basso, Cherubini, on one occasion refused to go on with his part in Lucia because he had not been applauded on entering.

An incident of quite an opposite character occurred at Naples during the Titiens engagement. Armandi, a tenor of doubtful repute, who resided at Milan, always awaited the result of the various fiascos of St. Stephen's night (26th December) which marks the beginning of the Carnival season, when some hundreds of musical theatres throw open their doors. He had a large répertoire; and, after ascertaining by telegraph where his services were most in need, and where they would be best remunerated, he would accept an engagement as a kind of stop-gap until another tenor could be found. Generally, at the close of the first evening he was paid for his six performances and sent back to Milan.

But on the occasion I am speaking of Armandi had stipulated in his contract that he should be paid the six nights and sing the six nights as well; for he was tired, he said, of being systematically shelved after a single performance.

The part in which he had to appear at Naples, where the leading tenor of the establishment had hopelessly broken down, was that of "Pollio" in Norma; but every time he attempted to sing the public accompanied him with hisses, so that he soon became inaudible. At the close of the first act he came before the curtain, and after obtaining a hearing begged the audience to allow him to finish the opera in peace, when he would leave the city. If they continued hissing he warned them that he would sing the remaining five nights of his engagement.

The public took the candour of the man in such good part that they not only applauded him throughout the evening, but allowed him to remain the entire season.

FINAL CHAPTER.

FIGURES are dull and statistics fatiguing; or I might be tempted to give the reader particulars as to the number of miles that I have travelled, the sums of money I have received and spent during my career as manager; with other details of a like character. I may mention, however, that for many years during our operatic tours in the United Kingdom and in the United States, our average annual travelling with a large company of principal singers, choristers, dancers, and orchestral players amounted to some 23,000 miles, or nearly the length of the earth's circumference. This naturally necessitated a great deal of preparation and forethought. The average annual takings were during this period over £200,000. All this involved so much organization and such careful administration, that a mere impresario might, without disgrace, have proved unequal to the work. The financial department, in particular, of such an enterprise ought, to be thoroughly well managed, to enjoy the supervision of a Goschen.

Difficulties, however, are only obstacles set in one's way in order to be overcome, and mine have never caused me any serious trouble. I am disposed by nature to take a cheerful view of things, and I can scarcely think of any dilemma in which I have been placed, however serious, which has not presented its bright, or at least when I came to think of it, its amusing side. When, moreover, one has had, throughout a long career, difficulties, often of a very formidable character, to contend with, the little inconveniences of life are scarcely felt.

I remember one day dining with a millionaire of my acquaintance who got red in the face, stamped, swore, and almost went into convulsions because the salmon had been rather too much boiled. He had led too easy a life; or so trifling a mishap would have had no effect upon him.

Often when affairs looked almost tragic, I have been able to bear them by perceiving that they had also their comic aspect. The reader, indeed, will have seen for himself that some of my liveliest anecdotes are closely connected with very grave matters indeed. Of such anecdotes I could tell many more. But I feel that I have already taken up too much of the reader's time, and, having several important projects on hand which will take up the whole of mine, I must now conclude.

APPENDIX.

SINGERS AND OPERAS PRODUCED BY ME.

The following is a list of the principal artists whom I first had the honour of engaging for this country, and, with two exceptions (marked by asterisks), of introducing for the first time to the British public:—

European Prime Donne.

*Adelina Patti,

Christine Nilsson,

Etelka Gerster,

Marguerite Chapuy,

Ilma di Murska,

Marie Roze,

Marie Marimon,

Emelie Ambré,

Caroline Salla,

Lilli Lehmann,

Eugénie Pappenheim,

Harriers Wippern,

Victoire Balfe,

Jenny Broch,

Elena Varese,

Marianina Lodi,

Alma Fohström,

Caroline Reboux,

Clarice Sinico,

Louise Sarolta,

Mathilde Sessi,

Bianca Donadio,

Matilda Bauermeister,

Zelie Trebelli,

Sofia Scalchi,

Anna de Belocca,

Borghi-Mamo,

Carolina Guarducci,

Caroline Bettelheim.

American Prime Donne.

*Emma Albani,

Clara Louise Kellogg,

Alwina Valleria,

Marie Vanzandt,

Emma Nevada,

Emma Abbott,

Marie Litta,

Lilian Nordica,

Louise Dotti,

Hélène Hastreiter,

Emma Juch,

Annie Louise Cary,

Kate Rolla,

Laura Harris-Zagury,

Lilian Lauri,

Marie Engle,

Genevieve Ward,

Minnie Hauk,

Nikita,

Etc., etc., etc.

Tenors.

Pietro Mongini,

Roberto Stagno,

Italo Campanini,

Luigi Ravelli,

Dr. Gunz,

Carlo Bulterini,

Ernesto Nicolini,

De Capellio-Tasca,

Victor Capoul,

Giovanni Vizzani,

Tom Hohler,

Allesandro Bettini,

Antonio Aramburo,

Giuseppe Fancelli.

Baritones.

Enrico Delle-Sedie,

Mariano de Padilla,

Charles Santley,

Enrico Fagotti,

Jean de Reszke,

Antonio Galassi,

Giuseppe Del Puente,

Innocente de Anna,

Pandolfini,

Agnesi,

Senatore Sparapani,

Colonnese,

Varese,

Badiali,

Paul Lhérie,

Giovanni Rota.

Basses.

Rokitansky,

Bagagiolo,

Medini,

Castelmary,

Belval,

Junca,

Behrens,

Novara,

Cherubini,

Foli.

Buffos.

Scalese,

Ciampi.

Bevignani,

Vianesi,

Logheder,

Fred Cowen,

Bisaccia,

Pasdeloup,

Etc., etc., etc.

Tragedian.

Tommaso Salvini.

The following celebrities ended their operatic career with me, having remained for many years previously under my management.:—

Thérèse Titiens,

Giulia Grisi,

Marietta Alboni,

Fanny Persiani,

Pauline Viardot,

Mario,

Antonio Giuglini,

Italo Gardoni,

Ignazio Marini,

Karl Formes,

Sir Michael Costa.

INDEX TO VOLS. I. AND II.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T V W Y Z

A.
Aaron, Sheriff, Vol. II., 81.
Abbey, Mr., Vol. I., 265, 308, 318, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325; Vol. II., 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 22, 27, 31, 32, 37, 38, 39, 79, 254.
Abbot, Emma, Vol. I., 190; Vol. II., 297.
Abramoff, M., Vol. II., 266.
Adams, J. McGregor, Vol. II., 232.
Adini, Mdme., Vol. I., 232.
Agnesi, Signor, Vol. I., 155; Vol. II., 299.
Albani, Emma, Vol. I., 142, 143, 148, 251, 288, 304, 305, 306, 307, 309, 310, 312, 313, 314, 315, 317, 318, 319, 320; Vol. II., 5, 174, 297.
Alboni, Vol. I., 9, 26, 27, 35, 36; Vol. II., 300.
Aldighieri, Vol. I., 19, 26, 47.
Ambré, Emelie, Vol. I., 220, 229; Vol. II., 296.
Angelo, Vol. II., 241, 258, 259, 260, 262, 263.
Antrobus, Captain, Vol. I., 281.
Aramburo, Vol. I., 232; Vol. II., 174, 298.
Arditi, Signor, Vol. I., 16, 17, 36, 37, 55, 68, 70, 77, 89, 104, 127, 129, 131, 199, 215, 216, 217, 243, 244, 250, 266, 288, 312; Vol. II., 12, 16, 67, 85, 129, 147, 161, 178, 179, 193, 231, 244, 266.
Arditi, Mdme. and Signor, Vol. I., 104.
Armandi, Signor, Vol. II., 290.
Arnoldson, Mdlle., Vol. II., 264.
Arnoux, Judge W. R., Vol. I., 326.
Arthur, President, Vol. I., 313, 314, 315.
Auber, Vol. II., 169, 272.
Austin, Mr., Vol. I., 193.
Austin, Fredk., Vol. II., 138.

B.
Babbitt, Councillor, Vol. II., 42.
Bacon, Arthur, Vol. I., 45.
Badiali, Signor, Vol. I., 10, 11; Vol. II., 299.
Bagagiolo, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Baldanza, Signor, Vol. II., 229.
Balfe, M. W., Vol. I., 2, 161; Vol. II., 283.
Balfe, Victoire, Vol. I., 16; Vol. II., 296.
Ballantine, Serjeant, Vol. I., 14.
Barnes, General W. H. L., Vol. II., 57, 63, 198, 204, 205.
Bauermeister, Mdme., Vol. I., 198; Vol. II., 116, 161, 162, 164, 178, 192, 248, 296.
Baxter, Mr., Vol. I., 70.
Bedford, Duke of, Vol. I., 175.
Beecher, Rev. Henry Ward, Vol. II., 89.
Beethoven, Vol. I., 82; Vol. II., 251.
Behrens, Herr, Vol. II., 299.
Belart, Signor, Vol. I., 27.
Belval, M., Vol. I., 152; Vol. II., 299.
Belasco, Signor, Vol. II., 192, 193.
Belletti, Signor, Vol. I., 2, 3.
Bellini, Vol. I., 90; Vol. II., 272.
Belocca, Mdlle. Anna de, Vol. I., 225, 227, 228, 261; Vol. II., 296.
Belmont, August, Vol. I., 274.
Belmont, Mrs. August, Vol. I., 316.
Benedict, Sir Julius, Vol. I., 16, 17, 27, 172, 197; Vol. II., 274.
Bentinck, Cavendish, Vol. I., 155.
Berghi, Mdlle., Vol. I., 288; Vol. II., 248.
Bernhardt, Sarah, Vol. I., 129, 265; Vol. II., 240.
Bertini, Signor, Vol. II., 13, 14.
Bettelheim, Mdlle., Vol. I., 81; Vol. II., 296.
Bettini, Signor, Vol. I., 6, 7, 73, 76, 77, 81, 120; Vol. II., 298.
Bettini-Trebelli, Mdme., Vol. I., 7.
Beviguani, Signor, Vol. I., 109; Vol. II., 300.
Bidwell, David, Mr., Vol. II., 102.
Bieletto, Signor, Vol. II., 161, 162, 164.
Billing, Dr., Vol. I., 8.
Bimboni, Signor, Vol. II., 231.
Bisaccia, Signor, Vol. II., 300.
Bizet, Vol. II., 249, 251, 264.
Blackstone, T. B., Vol. II., 232.
Blondin, Vol. I., 283, 284.
Boito, Vol. I., 240, 241, 242, 249, 252, 253, 254; Vol. II., 251.
Bologna, Signor, Vol. II., 229.
Bolton, George, Mr., Vol. I., 61, 298.
Booker, British Consul General, Vol. I., 326.
Borchardt, Mdme., Vol. I., 45, 46, 47, 52, 54.
Borghi-Mamo, Vol. I., 26; Vol. II., 296.
Bossi, Signor, Vol. I., 89.
Bowdoin, Mrs., Vol. I., 317.
Bowen, Detective, Vol. II., 57.
Boyne, George, Vol. II., 136, 232.
Bradwell, Vol. I., 271.
Brady, Judge J. R., Vol. I., 326.
Braham, Marquis, Vol. I., 65.
Braham, Charles, Vol. I., 10, 12; Vol. II., 247.
Brichanteau, Count, Vol. II., 68.
Brignoli, Signor, Vol. I., 220, 235, 236; Vol. II., 92.
Broccolini, Signor Giovanni Chiari di, Vol. II., 275, 288.
Broch, Mdlle. Jenny, Vol. II., 244, 248, 296.
Brodie, Dr., Vol. I., 310.
Brooks, Captain, Vol. I., 201.
Browne, Dr. Lennox, Vol. I., 182.
Buck, Dr. J. D., Vol. I., 269.
Burdett-Coutts, Baroness, Vol. I., 172.
Burnett, C. J., Vol. I., 278.
Burroughs, Colonel, Vol. I., 282.
Bulterini, Signor, Vol. II., 298.

C.
Cairns, Sir Hugh, Vol. I., 14.
Calzolari, Signor, Vol. I., 3.
Campanini, Signor, Vol. I., 153, 154, 155, 166, 197, 199, 202, 214, 215, 220, 232, 233, 235, 240, 243, 247, 261, 268, 271, 288; Vol. II., 3, 11, 174, 260, 286, 298.
Capoul, M., Vol. I., 152; Vol. II., 298.
Capponi, Vol. II., 169.
Caracciolo, Signor, Vol. II., 161, 162, 164, 266.
Carden, George, Vol. I., 278.
Cardinali, Vol. II., 130, 152, 153.
Carey, Hon. Eugene, Vol. II., 106, 136, 232.
Carrion, Signor, Vol. I., 172.
Cary, Annie Louise, Vol. I., 235, 243, 247; Vol. II., 297.
Carvalho, Mdme. Miolan, Vol. I., 71, 72.
Castelmary, M., Vol. II., 299.
Castlereagh, Lord, Vol. I., 93.
Catalani, Mdme., Vol. I., 42.
Cavalazzi, Mdme. Malvina, Vol. II., 161, 162, 164.
Caylus, M., Vol. II., 248.
Cesnola, General, Vol. I., 326.
Chappell, Mr. Thos., Vol. I., 28, 66, 67.
Chappell, Mr. Frank, Vol. I., 66, 67.
Chapuy, Mdlle. Marguerite, Vol. I., 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172; Vol. II., 295.
Charlier, Professor A., Vol. I., 326.
Chatterton, F. B., Vol. I., 110, 111, 189, 190, 191, 199.
Cherubini, Vol. I., 88, 89; Vol. II., 32, 119, 127, 161, 162, 163, 169, 170, 195, 229, 282, 289, 299.
Choate, Mrs. W. G., Vol. I., 319.
Choudens, M., Vol. I., 66, 67.
Chorley, Mr., Vol. I., 28.
Ciampi, Signor, Vol. II., 244, 249, 299.
Cirilla, Duke and Duchess of, Vol. I., 19, 20, 21, 22.
Clarke, Mr. John, of Brooklyn, Vol. II., 275.
Clarkson, Vol. II., 223.
Clementine, Mdlle., Vol. I., 31.
Clewes, Mrs. Henry, Vol. I., 317.
Clodio, Signor, Vol. I., 294, 326.
Coffee, John, Vol. II., 110, 111.
Colman, Commissioner J. S., Vol. I., 326.
Colonne, M., Vol. II., 9.
Colonnese, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Colville, Lord, Vol. I., 110.
Commander-in-Chief, H.R.H., Vol. I., 277.
Cooke, H., Vol. I., 278.
Cornell, Mrs. Alonzo B., Vol. I., 317.
Corsini, Signor, Vol. I., 314.
Corsi, Signor, Vol. I., 53, 54, 55, 56.
Costa, Sir Michael, Vol. I., 2, 9, 33, 125, 126, 139, 140, 151, 157, 166, 167, 189, 190, 193, 197, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 237, 238, 239; Vol. II., 148, 268, 274, 282, 284, 285, 301.
Cottrell, Mr., Vol. I., 14.
Cowen, Mr. F., Vol. II., 300.
Crane, R. T., Vol. II., 136.
Crittenden, Governor, Vol. II., 68, 69.
Crosmond, Hélène, Vol. I., 220.
Crowley, Chief, Vol. II., 55.
Cummings, Miss Eva, Vol. II., 237.

D.
Daly, Chief Justice C. P., Vol. I., 326.
Daniel, Vol. I., 14.
Dater, Councillor, Vol. II., 42.
Davis, Chief Justice Noah, Vol. I., 326.
De Anna, Signor, Vol. II., 97, 108, 119, 122, 130, 131, 161, 164, 174, 182, 184, 263, 265, 299.
Decca, Mdlle. Marie, Vol. II., 265.
Dell'Era, Mdlle., Vol. II., 249.
Delmonico, Vol. II., 80.
Del Puente, Signor, Vol. I., 156, 197, 199, 203, 215, 233, 261, 268, 288; Vol. II., 6, 7, 11, 127, 161, 162, 163, 164, 169, 170, 174, 182, 216, 243, 244, 247, 249, 264, 299.
Dierck, Theodore, Vol. II., 117.
Didiée, Mdme. Nantier, Vol. I., 71, 82.
Dix, Mrs. General, Vol. I., 316.
Dogherty, Hon. Daniel, Vol. I., 289.
Dolby, Miss, Vol. I., 7.
Donadio, Mdlle. Bianca, Vol. II., 244, 296.
Donizetti, Vol. I., 90.
Dotti, Mdlle., Vol. I., 265, 268, 288, 293, 306, 307, 314; Vol. II., 108, 127, 161, 164, 192, 244, 246, 248, 264, 265, 297.
Douste, Louise and Jeanne, Vol. I., 201; Vol. II., 16.
Drake, John B., Vol. II., 232.
Drisler, Professor Henry, Vol. I., 326.
Dudley, Lord, Vol. I., 23, 40, 70, 112, 136, 138, 139, 140, 141, 146, 147, 148, 152, 173, 190, 191.
Durat, M., Vol. I., 288.

E.
Edinburgh, H.R.H. the Duchess of, Vol. I., 185, 186, 187, 188, 189; Vol. II., 255.
Edinburgh, H.R.H. the Duke of, Vol. I., 178, 179, 185.
Edson, Mayor, Vol. I., 326.
Edson, Mrs. Franklin, Vol. I., 316.
Eldridge, Joe, Vol. II., 113, 114, 115, 116.
Engle, Mdlle. Marie, Vol. II., 161, 244, 246, 248, 297.
Evans, Judge Oliver P., Vol. II., 57.
Everardi, Signor, Vol. I., 26, 27.

F.
Faccio, Signor, Vol. I., 253.
Fagotti, Signor Enrico, Vol. II., 298.
Fairbank, Mr. N. K., Vol. II., 232.
Falco, Signor de, Vol. II., 161, 162, 163, 179.
Fancelli, Signor, Vol. I., 155, 220; Vol. II., 286, 287, 288, 298.
Faure, Mons., Vol. I., 71, 128, 129, 131, 172, 221.
Fennessy, Mr., Vol. II., 32, 37.
Ferri, Signor, Vol. II., 92.
Field, Henry, Vol. II., 136.
Field, Mr. Marshall, Vol. II., 232.
Field, Mrs. Marshall, Vol. II., 229.
Fitzgerald, Thos., Vol. I., 22.
Flattery, Father, Vol. II., 17, 18, 19.
Fohström, Mdlle., Vol. II., 156, 161, 162, 163, 164, 169, 179, 180, 182, 184, 192, 213, 224, 227, 235, 243, 244, 245, 248, 296.
Foli, Signor, Vol. I., 87, 89, 129, 139, 155, 172, 199, 208, 215, 217; Vol. II., 174, 244, 249, 275, 299.
Forchheimer, Dr. F., Vol. I., 269.
Ford, Hon., Vol. II., 42.
Formes, Carl, Vol. I., 7; Vol. II., 301.
Fowler, Dr., Vol. II., 181.
Fowler, Mr., Vol. I., 177, 178, 179.
Fox, Mr. Charles, Vol. II., 129.
Franchi, Signor, Vol. I., 290, 325; Vol. II., 4, 23, 24.
Francis, George, Vol. I., 4, 5.
Frank, Eisner and Regensburger, Vol. II., 197.
Frapolli, Signor, Vol. I., 199, 215, 220, 314; Vol. II., 244.
Fraschini, Signor, Vol. I., 117.
French, Mrs. Barton, Vol. I., 317.
Freret, William, Vol. II., 103.
Fursch-Madi, Mdme., Vol. I., 288, 294, 306, 307, 312, 314; Vol. II., 30, 105, 119, 130, 174.

G.
Gage, A. S., Vol. II., 232.
Galassi, Mdme., Vol. I., 294.
Galassi, Signor, Vol. I., 166, 199, 203, 208, 215, 235, 247, 255, 259, 261, 265, 271, 288, 307, 310, 312, 314, 318; Vol. II., 32, 56, 67, 85, 174, 299.
Ganz, Mr. Wilhelm, Vol. II., 274, 275.
Gardini, Dr., Vol. I., 245; Vol. II., 263.
Gardoni, Signor, Vol. I., 2, 95, 146; Vol. II., 301.
Garibaldi, Vol. I., 45, 81.
Garulli, Signor, Vol. II., 248.
Gassier, Mdme., Vol. I., 8.
Gassier, Signor, Vol. I., 36, 68, 81.
Gayarré, Signor, Vol. I., 149.
Genese, Sam, Vol. I., 29, 30.
Gerster, Etelka, Vol. I., 195, 197, 199, 200, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 228, 229, 233, 240, 242, 244, 245, 247, 249, 250, 251, 274; Vol. II., 4, 6, 11, 13, 22, 25, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 53, 54, 58, 62, 67, 68, 69, 72, 74, 76, 77, 174, 218, 245, 263, 295.
Giannini, Signor, Vol. II., 108, 119, 127, 161, 162, 164, 182, 235, 261.
Giffard, Mr., Vol. I., 14.
Gille, M. Ph., Vol. II., 161.
Giuglini, Vol. I., 9, 17, 23, 26, 35, 36, 37, 38, 43, 44, 45, 47, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 60, 68, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 89; Vol. II., 300.
Gluck, Vol. I., 95.
Goddard, Arabella, Vol. I., 7.
Gole, Messrs. J. and R., Vol. II., 145.
Gole, Mr. Russell, Vol. II., 281, 282.
Goodenough, Colonel, Vol. II., 268.
Goschen, the Right Honourable G. J., Vol. II., 292.
Gounod, Vol. I., 68, 70, 72, 250; Vol. II., 123, 130, 249.
Graziani, Signor, Vol. I., 13, 14, 71.
Grisi, Mdme., Vol. I., 9, 26, 33, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93; Vol II., 300.
Guarducci, Mdlle., Vol. I., 17, 18, 19, 22; Vol. II., 296.
Gunz, Dr., Vol. I., 95; Vol. II., 298.
Gye, Mr. Ernest, Vol. I., 305, 310, 320, 321, 322, 325; Vol. II., 1, 3, 4, 5, 81, 82, 84, 85.
Gye, Commander, Vol. I., 288, 290, 303, 304.
Gye, Messrs., Vol. I., 260, 287.
Gye, Mr., Vol. I., 8, 9, 13, 14, 33, 36, 41, 42, 67, 70, 71, 72, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 119, 124, 125, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 142, 143, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 153, 154, 160; Vol. II., 285.

H.
Haines, Vol. I., 216.
Hallé, Chas., Vol. I., 28, 172; Vol. II., 9, 274, 282.
Hammond, Surgeon-General, Vol. II., 218.
Hancock, General, Vol. I., 326.
Hancock, Mrs. General, Vol. I., 317.
Handel, Vol. II., 274.
Harding, George F., Vol. II., 136, 232.
Harding, J., Vol. II., 232.
Harrison, Mr. Carter H., Vol. II., 134, 232.
Harris, Augustus, the late, Vol. I., 42, 67, 145.
Harris, Miss Laura, Vol. I., 187; Vol. II., 297.
Harris, Augustus, Vol. I., 276; Vol. II., 243, 285.
Hastreiter, Mdme., Vol. II., 244, 246, 248, 297.
Hauk, Minnie, Vol. I., 61, 125, 197, 199, 200, 202, 203, 206, 207, 215, 220, 261, 268, 271, 288; Vol. II., 161, 162, 163, 164, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 181, 182, 192, 193, 194, 201, 213, 214, 221, 226, 227, 248, 264, 265, 269, 281, 297.
Haweis, Rev. H., Vol. II., 171, 172.
Hawkins, Vol. I., 14.
Hayes, Miss Catherine, Vol. I., 8.
Hayten, Mdlle., Vol. II., 249.
Hazlitt, Mr. Registrar, Vol. I., 239, 240; Vol. II., 281.
Heatly, Mr. Tod, Vol. I., 183.
Henderson, Mr., Vol. II., 230, 233, 238.
Henderson, C. M., Vol. II., 232.
Heringhie, Samuel, Vol. II., 198.
Hinds, J. Clowes, Vol. I., 279.
Hingston, Vol. I., 108.
Hoffman, Rev. Dr., Vol. I., 326.
Hogg, Sir James McGarel, Vol. I., 179.
Hohler, Tom, Vol. II., 298.
Holliday, Councillor, Vol. II., 42.
Homer, Councillor, Vol. II., 42.
Hopkins, Mrs. Mark, Vol. II., 118.
Humphreys, Sir John, Vol. I., 182.

I.
Insom, Signor, Vol. I., 11.
Irvine, Councillor, Vol. II., 42.
Irving, Henry, Vol. II., 37.
Isia, Mdme., Vol. II., 191.
Isidor, Mdlle. Rosina, Vol. II., 248.

J.
Jacobi, Dr., Vol. I., 202.
Jaquinot, M., Vol. II., 247.
Jarrett, Mr., Vol. I., 110, 111, 129, 130, 132, 133, 160, 231.
Jay, Mrs., Vol. I., 316.
Jones, Hon., Vol. II., 42.
Jones, J. Russell, Vol. II., 232.
de Jong, Mike, Vol. II., 75.
Joseffy, Herr Rafael, Vol. I., 320.
Joyce, Mr., Vol. I., 5.
Juch, Miss Emma, Vol. II., 297.
Junca, Vol. I., 146; Vol. II., 299.

K.
Kalakana I., H.M. King, Vol. I., 295, 296.
Keith, Edson, Vol. II., 232.
Kellogg, Clara Louise, Vol. I., 117, 153, 220; Vol. II., 297.
Kendal, Mrs., Vol. I., 100; Vol. II., 167.
Kernochan, Mrs. Frederick, Vol. I., 317.
Kleist, Albert, Vol. II., 138.
Knox, Colonel E. B., Vol. II., 138.
Knox, George F., Vol. II., 205.
Knox, Colonel Brownlow, Vol. I., 147.
Kuhe, Herr Wilhelm. Vol. II., 274, 275.

L.
Lablache, Signor, Vol. I., 3, 89.
Lablache, Mdme., Vol. I., 233; Vol. II., 6, 7, 116, 127, 161, 162, 164, 170, 248.
Lamoureux, M., Vol. II., 9.
Lanner, Mdme. Katti, Vol. I., 196; Vol. II., 116.
Lauri, Lilian, Vol. II., 297.
Lavine, Mr. John, Vol. II., 84.
Lawrence, Judge Abraham R., Vol. I., 326.
Lee and Paine, Vol. I., 173.
Lehmann, Mdlle. Lilli, Vol. II., 250, 251, 252, 282, 296.
Leinster, Duke of, Vol. I., 146.
Lennox, Lord Algernon, Vol. I., 208.
Lewis, Vol. I., 276.
Lhérie, M., Vol. II., 249, 299.
Lido, Mdlle. Marie de, Vol. I., 211.
Lilly, General, Vol. I., 316, 318.
Lincoln, Dr., Vol. I., 202.
Lind, Jenny, Vol. I., 2, 172, 173, 205.
Litvinoff, Mdlle. Felia, Vol. II., 161, 164.
Litta, Miss Marie, Vol. II., 297.
Livingstone, Mrs., Vol. I., 316.
Lodi, Mariannina, Vol. II., 296.
Logheder, Signor, Vol. II., 249, 300.
Lombardelli, Signor, Vol. II., 63, 67.
Lorillard, Pierre, Vol. I., 273.
Lorillard, Mrs. Pierre, Vol. I., 317.
Lotti, Mdlle., Vol. I., 7.
Lucca, Pauline, Vol. I., 72, 134, 135, 229.
Lucca, Mdme., Vol. II., 262.
Lumley, Mr., Vol. I., 8, 9, 12, 23, 24, 25, 35, 41.
Lyon, Geo. W., Vol. II., 138.

M.
Macpherson, Captain Fitzroy, Vol. I., 280.
Mackenzie, Sir Morell, Vol. I., 182.
Mackenzie, Dr. A. C., Vol. II., 272.
Macfarren, Sir G., Vol. II., 283.
Macvitz, Mdlle., Vol. I., 156.
Magnani, Vol. I., 241, 271.
Manns, Mr. August, Vol. II., 274, 275.
Mapleson, Vol. I., 15, 16, 20, 21.
Maple, Mr., Vol. I., 226, 227.
Maple, Blundell, Vol. I., 192.
Mario, Vol. I., 9, 33, 72, 89, 93, 94, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 128; Vol. II., 25, 266, 300.
Marini, Vol. I., 10, 11; Vol. II., 301.
Maretzek, Max, Vol. I., 7.
Martindale, Mr., Vol. I., 14.
Marchisio, Sisters, Vol. I., 43.
Marimon, Mdlle., Vol. I., 140, 143, 155, 171, 229, 230, 231, 233, 234, 235, 236; Vol. II., 295.
Marchesi, Signor, Vol. I., 144, 145.
Massenet, Vol. II., 161.
Masini, Signor, Vol. I., 220, 221, 222, 223; Vol. II., 148.
Mathews, Charles, Vol. I., 173.
Mattei, Signor Tito, Vol. II., 162.
Mazzucato, Signor, Vol. I., 4, 6.
McCaull, Vol. II., 234.
McCray, Colonel, Vol. I., 141, 143.
Means, Mayor, Vol. I., 308.
Medill, Hon. J., Vol. II., 232.
Medini, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Meilhac, M., Vol. II., 161.
Melcy, M. de, Vol. I., 93.
Mercadante, Vol. I., 18, 65.
Meyerbeer, Vol. I., 3, 43, 266; Vol. II., 284.
Middleton, Admiral Sir George Broke, Vol. I., 182.
Mierzwinski, M., Vol. I., 288, 307, 312; Vol. II., 174.
Miller, Hon., Vol. II., 42.
Millais, Vol. I., 72.
Miranda, Signor, Vol. II., 249.
Mitchell, Vol. I., 40.
Mongini, Signor, Vol. I., 16, 26, 27, 95, 96, 97, 98, 117, 128, 129, 131; Vol. II., 298.
Monti, Signor, Vol. I., 304, 307.
Moriami, Signor, Vol. I., 152.
Morris, Vol. I., 183.
Mott, Dr., Vol. I., 295.
Mozart, Vol. I., 11, 117, 270, 319; Vol. II., 265, 266, 272.
Müller, Miss Marie, Vol. I., 201.
Murska, Mdlle. Ilmade, Vol. I., 87, 95, 129, 131, 133, 143, 152, 155, 156, 163, 164, 165, 166, 190; Vol. II., 295.

N.
Nannetti, Vol. I., 240, 252, 253.
Naples, King of, Vol. I., 19.
Nassau, Dr., Vol. II., 127.
Nandin, Signor, Vol. I., 10, 11, 44.
Nevada, Emma, Vol. II., 86, 89, 90, 97, 109, 110, 111, 116, 119, 121, 122, 123, 124, 130, 149, 150, 248, 250, 297.
Niagara, Vol. I., 297.
Nicolini, Signor, Vol. I., 152, 288, 310, 319, 320, 323, 324; Vol. II., 32, 35, 44, 47, 48, 49, 65, 78, 88, 107, 122, 131, 149, 150, 155, 252, 253, 255, 298.
Nichols, Colonel George Ward, Vol. I., 247, 267.
Nikita, Vol. II., 297.
Nilsson, Christine, Vol. I., 104, 106, 117, 128, 129, 131, 133, 143, 148, 150, 152, 153, 155, 157, 158, 159, 160, 162, 163, 166, 172, 178, 190, 193, 194, 195, 220, 221, 224, 229, 237, 240, 241, 243, 253, 254, 303, 308, 321, 322; Vol. II., 2, 11, 30, 33, 38, 81, 86, 218, 295.
Nixon, Mr. William Penn, Vol. II., 136.
Nordica, Mdme. Lilian, Vol. II., 161, 180, 182, 184, 193, 213, 224, 227, 244, 246, 248, 297.
Novara, Vol. I., 243, 247, 261; Vol. II., 11, 299.
Novello, Clara, Vol. I., 7.
Nugent, Mr., Vol. I., 68, 70.

O.
O'Connell, Officer, Vol. II., 64.
Offenbach, Jacques, Vol. II., 283, 284, 285.
O'Gorman, Judge, Vol. II., 7.
Ole Bull, Vol. I., 218.
O'Molloy, John, Vol. II., 209.
Orczy, Baron Bodog, Vol. I. 254, 255, 258, 260.
Oselio, Mdlle., Vol. II., 250.
Oxenford, John, Vol. I., 28.

P.
Padilla, Signor, Vol. II., 244, 249, 266, 267, 276, 277, 298.
Paget, Lord Alfred, Vol. I., 177, 178, 183.
Palmer, Potter, Mr., Vol. II., 232.
Palmer, Mr. Courtlandt, Vol. II., 171.
Palmer, Dr., Vol. II., 116.
Palmer, Colonel H. W., Vol. I., 281.
Pandolfini, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Pappenheim, Madame, Vol. I., 203; Vol. II., 6, 14, 296.
Parepa, Madame, Vol. I., 29.
Parnell, Mr., Vol. II., 266.
Parmenter, Judge, Vol. I., 212.
Parodi, Mdlle., Vol. I., 211.
Parry, Mr., Vol. II., 6, 7, 116, 231.
Pasdeloup, M., Vol. II., 300.
Patey, Madame, Vol. I., 28.
Patti, Adelina, Vol. I., 33, 35, 36, 72, 82, 83, 145, 150, 153, 167, 224, 251, 264, 265, 267, 268, 269, 270, 272, 273, 274, 288, 290, 291, 295, 296, 300, 301, 302, 303, 305, 306, 307, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 315, 317, 318, 319, 320, 323, 324; Vol. II., 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 12, 14, 15, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 28, 30, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 46, 47, 48, 49, 51, 52, 54, 58, 59, 65, 67, 68, 69, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 101, 103, 105, 107, 113, 116, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 127, 130, 131, 132, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 160, 161, 163, 169, 174, 209, 218, 236, 243, 252, 253, 254, 255, 261, 268, 295.
Peabody, George, Vol. I., 5, 6.
Pearce, Mr. Irving, Vol. II., 232.
Peck, President Ferd. W., Vol. II., 106, 133, 135, 136, 232, 238.
Persiani, Mdme., Vol. I., 10, 11; Vol. II., 300.
Peyten, Father, Vol. II., 17.
Phelps, Mr., Vol. I., 8.
Phillips, Mr. R., Vol. I., 69.
Phillips, Colonel L. E., Vol. I., 281.
Piccolomini, Mdlle., Vol. I., 9, 19.
Planché, J. R., Vol. I., 27, 43.
Ponchielli, Vol. II., 31.
Ponsard, M., Vol. II., 284.
Pope, His Holiness the, Vol. I., 18.
Post, Mr. Chas. N., Vol. II., 138.
Potter, Cipriani, Vol. I., 1.
Pratt, Mr. S. G., Vol. II., 136.
Prévost, M., Vol. I., 262.
Prussia, Crown Prince of, Vol. I., 8.
Pryor, Mrs., Vol. I., 317.
Puzzi, Mdme., Vol. I., 49, 50, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57.

Q.
Queen, Her Majesty the, Vol. II., 243.
Quilter, Vol. I., 183.

R.
Randegger, Mr. Alberto, Vol. II., 274, 275.
Rattray, Colonel J. C., Vol. I., 279.
Ravelli, Signor, Vol. I., 242, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 288, 294, 297, 298, 299, 307, 313, 320, 326; Vol. Vol. II.199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 209, 210, 229, 248, 264, 266, 269, 276, 277, 280, 281, 298.
Reboux, Caroline, Vol. II., 296.
Reeves, Sims, Mr., Vol. I., 4, 7, 28, 74, 75, 78.
Reeves, Sims, Mrs., Vol. I., 74, 75.
Remenyi, M., Vol. I., 2.
Reszke, M. Jean de, Vol. II., 298.
Rhaden, Baron von, Vol. I., 134.
Richter, Herr, Vol. I., 237, 239.
Ricordi, Vol. I., 252; Vol. II., 262.
Rigo, Vol. II., 193.
Rinaldini, Signor, Vol. II., 161, 162, 163, 164, 266.
Risley, Professor, Vol. I., 107.
Ristori, Mdme., Vol. I., 156; Vol. II., 289.
Rives, George L., Vol. I., 152; Vol. II., 85.
Rives, Mrs. G. L., Vol. I., 316.
Robertson, Madge, Vol. I., 100.
Roger, M., Vol. I., 3.
Rokitanski, Herr, Vol. I., 87, 95; Vol. II., 299.
Rolla, Mdme., Vol. II., 264, 265, 297.
Rolt, Mr., Vol. I., 14.
Ronconi, Signor, Vol. I., 326.
Rosa, Mr. Carl, Vol. II., 274, 275.
Rosenbecker, A., Vol. II., 138.
Rossi, Signor, Vol. I., 189.
Rossini, Vol. I., 90; Vol. II., 272.
Rossini, G., Vol. I., 265, 313.
Rossini, Mdlle. Paolina, Vol. I., 265, 266, 267, 288, 293.
Rota, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Rothschild, Messrs., Vol. II., 145.
Rothschild, Vol. I., 230.
Rouzand, M., Vol. I., 155, 159.
Rovere, Vol. I., 10, 11.
Roze, Marie, Vol. I., 155, 156, 163, 190, 206, 207, 214, 215, 220; Vol. II., 295.
Rudersdorff, Mdme., Vol. I., 11.
Rudersdorff, M., Vol. II., 276.
Rullman, Mr. F., Vol. II., 241.
Runcio, Signor, Vol. II., 244, 247.

S.
Salla, Mdlle., Vol. I., 193, 196, 220, 225; Vol. II., 296.
Salvini, Vol. I., 166, 167, 185, 189, 190, 238; Vol. II., 300.
Salvini-Donatelli, Vol. I., 10.
Santa, Della, Signor, Vol. I., 7.
Santley, Mr., Vol. I., 28, 68, 81, 87, 88, 89, 95, 117, 129, 131, 133, 139, 146; Vol. II., 275, 298.
Sapio, Signor, Vol. II., 178, 193.
Sarata, Signor Alberto, Vol. II., 237.
Sarolta, Louise, Vol. II., 296.
Savio, Mdlle., Vol. I., 288, 294.
Saxe-Weimar, Prince Edward of, Vol. I., 281.
Sayers and Heenan, Vol. I., 25, 26.
Scalchi, Madame, Vol. I., 124, 155, 288, 292, 296, 301, 305, 306, 307, 309, 312, 313, 314, 317, 319, 320; Vol. II., 2, 5, 11, 31, 79, 85, 90, 94, 97, 105, 108, 112, 113, 116, 119, 120, 122, 124, 127, 130, 131, 151, 152, 174, 296.
Scalese, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Schneider, Mr. George, Vol. II., 106, 136, 232.
Scott, Dr. Joseph, Vol. II., 102.
Seabury, Rev. Professor, Vol. I., 326.
Sedie, Signor Delle, Vol. I., 36; Vol. II., 298.
Selika, Mdlle., Vol. II., 100.
Sembrich, Mdlle., Vol. II., 2, 30.
Sessi, Mdlle. Mathilde, Vol. II., 296.
Shah of Persia, Vol. I., 156, 157, 158.
Sharon, Mr., Vol. II., 74.
Shea, Chief Justice, Vol. I., 326; Vol. II., 151.
Sherman and Clay, Messrs., Vol. II., 49, 50, 51, 52.
Sherrington, Mdme. L., Vol. I., 28.
Short, Captain, Vol. II., 55, 57, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 74, 75.
Shortball, S. S., Vol. II., 232.
Sinclair, Signor, Vol. II., 275.
Sinico, Mdme., Vol. I., 87, 215; Vol. II., 296.
Sivori, Vol. II., 32.
Smith, Count, Vol. II., 275.
Smith, Health Officer, Vol. II., 88.
Smith, Mr. E. T., Vol. I., 9, 11, 12, 18, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 41, 283.
Smith, Right Honble. W. H., M.P., Vol. I., 179, 285, 286.
Smyth, Recorder, Vol. I., 326.
Snowe, Vice-Consul, Vol. I., 22.
Sontag, Mdme., Vol. I., 3.
de Sortis, Bettina, Vol. II., 56.
Sparapani, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Spencer, Lady, Vol. I., 227, 228.
Spencer, Lord, Vol. I., 227.
Sprague, Mr. A. A., Vol. II., 136, 232.
Springer, Reuben, Vol. I., 251, 308.
Stanley, Dean, Vol. I., 155.
Stagno, Signor, Vol. I., 89, 95; Vol. II., 298.
Stanton, Mr., Vol. II., 85.
Starin, John H., Vol. I., 326.
Steinway and Sons, Vol. I., 214, 215; Vol. II., 77.
Steinway, William, Vol. I., 326.
Stone, Dr., Vol. II., 115.
Stores, Hon. Emery A., Vol. II., 106.
Stracey, Colonel, Vol. II., 269.
Strauss, Oscar S., Vol. I., 326.
Strakosch, Maurice, Vol. I., 33, 36.
Sullivan, Sir Arthur, Vol. II., 272.
Swanstone, Clement, Vol. I., 14.
Swing, Professor, Vol. II., 232.

T.
Tabor, I. W., Vol. II., 117.
Tagliafico, Signor, Vol. II., 169.
Tamberlik, Signor, Vol. I., 71, 72, 82, 172.
Tasca, Signor, Vol. I., 102, 103; Vol. II., 298.
Taylor, The Prophet, Vol. II., 44, 45, 76.
Telbin, Mr., Vol. I., 82, 94.
Terry, Miss Ellen, Vol. II., 167.
Thalberg, M., Vol. I., 3.
Thomas, Ambroise, M., Vol. II., 163.
Thomas, Theodore, Vol. II., 9, 10, 165, 171.
de Thomsen, Baroness, Vol. I., 317.
Thornycroft, Vol. I., 182.
Thurber, Mr. F. B., Vol. I., 326.
Thurber, Mrs. F. B., Vol. I., 317, 319.
Titiens, Thérèse, Vol. I., 9, 12, 18, 19, 23, 26, 27, 35, 36, 37, 38, 42, 43, 45, 47, 49, 51, 55, 56, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 68, 72, 77, 78, 81, 82, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 95, 100, 101, 103, 104, 109, 112, 117, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 128, 139, 140, 143, 146, 152, 154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 161, 162, 166, 167, 177, 178, 190, 193, 194, 196; Vol. II., 15, 25, 268, 282, 290, 300.
Trebelli, Mdme., Vol I., 43, 58, 59, 60, 68, 72, 73, 77, 79, 89, 101, 104, 129, 131, 139, 140, 146, 154, 155, 156, 160, 190, 199, 220, 221, 240; Vol. II., 3, 30, 250, 255, 268, 296.

V.
Vachot, Mdlle., Vol. I., 261, 262, 263.
Valda, Mdme, Vol. II., 261.
Valchieri, Signor, Vol. II., 275.
Valleria, Mdlle., Vol. I., 156, 190, 198, 199; Vol. II., 297.
Van Biene, Auguste, Vol. II., 276.
Vanderbilt, Mrs., Vol. I., 317.
Vanderbilt, Mr. W. H., Vol. I., 324, 325.
Vanderpoel, Aaron, Vol. I., 326.
Van Zandt, Vol. I., 164, 220; Vol. II., 297.
de Vaschetti, Signor, Vol. II., 161, 162, 163, 164, 249.
Varese, Mdlle. Elena, Vol. II., 296.
Varese, Signor, Vol. II., 299.
Verdi, Vol. I., 43, 45, 271; Vol. II., 272.
Vetta, Signor, Vol. II., 161, 244, 247, 249.
Vianelli, Mdlle., Vol. II., 6.
Vianesi, Signor, Vol. I., 10, 127; Vol. II., 244, 300.
Viardot, Mdme., Vol. I., 3, 10, 11; Vol. II., 300.
Victoria, Princess, Vol. I., 8.
de Vigne, Mdlle., Vol. II., 161, 162, 163, 195.
Vivian, Colonel, Vol. I., 208.
Vizzani, Signor, Vol. II., 298.
Vocke, Mr. William, Vol. II., 178.
Volpini, Mdme., Vol. I., 72, 78, 79.
Volpini, Signor, Vol. I., 73, 74, 76, 79, 298.

W.
Wagstaff, Mr., Vol. I., 113.
Wagner, Vol. I., 263, 315; Vol. II., 171, 172.
Wahl, Mr. Louis, Vol. II., 136.
Wales, Prince of, Vol. I., 111, 139, 157, 192; Vol. II., 243.
Wales, Prince and Princess of, Vol. I., 91.
Wallace, Vincent, Vol. I., 28.
Wallhofen, Baron Von, Vol. I., 134, 135.
Walker, Mr. J. W., Vol. I., 279, 280.
Walker, Mr., Vol. II., 275.
Wallace, Vincent, Vol. II., 162, 173, 269, 283.
Walsh, Mr. John R., Vol. II., 136, 232.
Ward, Miss Genéviève, Vol. II., 297.
Wartegg, Baron E. de Hesse, Vol. II., 177, 194.
Warren, Councillor, Vol. II., 42.
Weber, Dr., Vol. II., 269.
Weber, Vol. I., 27, 43; Vol. II., 131.
Weber, Vol. I., 216.
Webster, Mr., Vol. I., 175, 176, 177, 179.
Wellington, Duke of, Vol. I., 41.
Wetterman, Vol. II., 52.
White, Mayor, Vol. I., 300.
Whitney, Mrs. W. C., Vol. I., 317.
Willis, Mrs. Benjamin, Vol. I., 317.
Wippern, Mdme. Harriers, Vol. II., 296.
Wixom, Dr., Vol. II., 116.
Wood, Vice-Chancellor, Vol. I., 14.
Wood, Mr. George, Vol. I., 129, 130, 131, 132, 133.
Woodford, General Stewart L., Vol. I., 326.
Wyndham, Mr., Vol. I., 52.
Wyndham, Mrs., Vol. I., 57.

Y.
Yorke, Miss Josephine, Vol. II., 6, 32.

Z.
Zacharoff, Count, Vol. II., 47.
Zagury, Mdlle., Vol. I., 288, 293.
Zamperoni, Signor, Vol. II., 262.
Zimelli, Signor, Vol. I., 141.

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