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would suffice; whether comedy or tragedy were the theme, she would work upon it and elaborate it with wonderful skill. Once while we were rehearsing "La Tosca," Sir Augustus Harris quietly slipped in and took a seat in the dark auditorium. He watched the proceedings with the amusement of a master of the game who is enjoying a holiday. Soon Mme. Patti perceived him. She called out to him: "Gus, what are you doing there? Why don't you come on the stage and help us?" "My dear Adelina," answered Sir Augustus, "if this were an opera or a play, I would with pleasure. But it is neither, and whatever it may be, there is no need of my help so long as you are there. I am just beginning to realize that if you had not been the world's greatest singer you could have been one of its best actresses.'

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He meant it, and it was true. The "Tosca" performance did not come off until August 29, after the impresario had left the castle. At the last moment we found it was too long, so we determined to omit the dramatic action and give it as a series of tableaux vivants, in which form it vastly pleased a large audience of friends from the "Valley." They missed, however, the thrilling effect of Mme. Patti's gliding, serpentine movements in the supper scene, where she stabs Scarpia; and they could not guess that the dead Minister of Police, in the person of myself, was positively shuddering while he lay prone between the two lighted candles. I had been told to keep my eyes open and stare; but that tragic look upon the countenance of La Tosca as she placed the crucifix upon my breast was so terrible that if I had not shut out the vision I should have had to jump up before the curtain fell. Patti's attitudes throughout were a wonderful study, and I feel sure Sarah Bernhardt and Ternina would both have given a great deal to witness her remarkable impersonation.

A week prior to this event Mme. Patti had been honored by a visit from the late Prince Henry of Battenberg, who was staying at Clyne Castle, and came out to lunch, accompanied by Count Gleichen, Lord Royston (now the Earl of Hardwicke), and other friends. The Queen's son-in-law witnessed a repetition of the garden scene from "Faust," and altogether spent a most agreeable afternoon. A few

days later we all went over to Swansea to take part in the annual concert given by Mme. Patti in aid of the local charities. The journey each way assumed the character of a triumphal progress, the entire route from the station to the concert-hall being lined by dense crowds. It was touching to witness the eagerness of the humble folk-men, women, and children-to catch a glimpse of the illustrious vocalist who once every year came from her mountain home to aid the institution that succored their needy and suffering. The concert itself was memorable because on this occasion the famous songstress for the first time in her life delivered as an encore the soul-stirring strains of the Welsh national air, "Land of my Fathers"; and when, at her request, her enthusiastic auditors joined in the chorus, the effect was simply electrifying.

Altogether that delightful month at Craig-y-nos Castle was replete with excitement and bustle. It was my privilege during the next few years to spend many weeks there-visits not less merry and gay, but not so eventful, and far more restful. In the evenings we would sit and listen to the orchestrion, and when it had exhausted its round of Wagnerian excerpts, I would occasionally supplement the selection upon the piano with fragments from "Die Meistersinger," "Tristan," and the "Nibelungen." It was extraordinary to see the pleasure Mme. Patti took in this music. One year August Wilhelmj was there, and to please her he played his own transcription of the "Preislied" upon Nicolini's fine Guarnerius, Clara Eissler executing the accompaniment upon the harp. To reward him, Patti sang Gounod's "Ave Maria" to his violin obbligato, Clara Eissler again playing the harp part, while I took the harmonium. Never did the familiar piece go better. But the real reward came later, when some one brought a copy of Wagner's "Träume" to the castle, and the diva, for the first time in her career, wedded her golden tones to one of Wagner's longdrawn melodies. By her request we worked at it together; but her German accent and phrasing were faultless, and, beyond marking the breathing-places, I had virtually nothing to suggest.

In the following season she sang "Träume" in London at one of the concerts at the Albert Hall, and so rapturously was it

applauded that we subsequently took up the study of Elizabeth's Prayer ("Tannhäuser"). This suited her to perfection, and she rendered it with a depth of fervid expression and a wealth of glorious tone that have never been equaled. Further than this, however, Mme. Patti has not yet consented to pursue her active alliance with the music of Wagner. She loves to listen to it, but hesitates to impose upon her delicate organ the strain of singing it in public. During our Wagner chats she would often ask me about Bayreuth, and I begged her to seize the first opportunity of attending the festival. She did not do so, however, until after her marriage with Baron Rolf Cederström, who is extremely fond of traveling, and, besides taking his wife to Sweden every summer, introduces her to many interesting European resorts. The following letter tells its own tale:

Fåhrens Villa, near Saltsjöbaden,

Stockholm, August 5, 1901. DEAR MR. KLEIN: We have just arrived at this lovely place after spending a very pleasant time in Switzerland and at Bayreuth, and I must send you first these few lines to tell you how immensely I was impressed by the Bayreuth performances. I never could have imagined anything so perfect as the mise en scène, and I thought the" Ring "simply divine. There are no words to express it; it is all so wonderful and beautiful. I thought "Parsifal" was glorious, especially the last act, and I am indeed glad to have heard all these marvelous works.

After a three weeks' stay at Schinznach we went to Lucerne, where we had a most delightful time, taking long excursions every day. Can you imagine me going up the Righi, Pilatus, the Bürgenstock, and similar places? I was well rewarded for my courage in mounting those perpendicular heights, for the view from the top was simply beyond descrip

tion.

We expect to remain here until the beginning of September, when we shall return to England, as my concert tour commences the first week in October. The Baron joins me in sending you kindest remembrances.

Yours very sincerely,

Adelina Patti-Cederström.

The accompanying portrait of Adelina Patti at the age of nine is taken from a daguerreotype in her possession, which she showed me at Craig-ynos Castle a few years ago. The complete picture shows three little girls seated together at a table - Adelina in the center and a playmate on each side. I was so much struck by the intelligence of the expression and the extraordinary maturity of the

Many are the pleasant recollections of Craig-y-nos that I could commit to these pages did space allow. The days there were always full of interest and variety. It was an inestimable privilege to enjoy the daily society and conversation of Adelina Patti, to hear her ever and anon burst into song, to catch the ring of her sunshiny laugh, to come under the spell of a personal charm such as few women possess. She converses with equal facility in English, French, Italian, and Spanish, speaks German and Russian well, and by this time, I dare say, can carry on a fluent conversation in Swedish. Her memory is extraordinary. She tells a hundred stories of her early life in America, dating from the age of seven, when she made her first appearance in public. She tells how they used to stand her upon the table to sing; how she first rendered "Casta Diva" by ear without a single mistake; and how, when her eldest sister, Amelia, was striving hard to master the shake, the tiny Adelina stopped her and asked, "Why don't you do it like this?" therewith executing a natural and absolutely irreproachable trill.

Patti says that she never studied the art of producing or emitting the voice. Nature, alone and unaided, accomplished that marvel. To keep her voice in perfect condition, it suffices for her to run over the scales ten minutes every morning. Her vocalization is one of those miracles that cannot be explained. Its wondrous certainty and finish are assuredly not arrived at without some labor, but in the end the miracle seems to have accomplished itself. Her "ear" is phenomenal. She never forgets a tune, and will instantly name the opera or composition in which it occurs. Another mystery is the perennial freshness of her voice, which, after half a century of constant use, retains well-nigh unimpaired the delicious sweetness and bell-like timbre of early womanhood. No other such example of perfect preservation stands on record in the annals of the lyric art. To analyze its secret one can only say, Here is surely a singer of marvelous constitution, features generally-so like, even at that age, to the familiar face of later years-that I begged Mme. Patti to allow me to have a photographic enlargement made of the central figure. She kindly consented, and three copies were executed. Of these she herself owns one, the widow of Sir Augustus Harris has another, and I possess the

third.

heaven-gifted with a faultless method, who has sedulously nursed her physical resources, and has never, under any circumstances, imposed the smallest undue strain upon the exquisitely proportioned mechanism of her vocal organs.

And the triumphs of this incomparable artist have not spoiled her. The homage of kings, the adulation of friends, the applause of multitudes, have not robbed her of that unaffected simplicity, that absence of ostentation, that yearning for home life and domestic tranquillity, which are among her most characteristic attributes. As evidence of this fact, I quote a portion of a letter which Mme. Patti wrote me from Nice in the spring of 1895. It was obviously not "intended for publication," but herein lies its chief value as a communication emanating from the friend rather than the artist.

When I gave my extra performance of the "Barbiere," my triumph was, if possible, even greater than usual, but on each occasion the success has been so enormous that it would be

difficult to say which performance excited the greatest enthusiasm, or when I received the biggest ovation. It has indeed become a succession of triumphs the whole time. Do you not feel proud of your little friend, who was fiftytwo last month, and has been singing uninterruptedly every year from the age of seven! I

who were naturally doubtful lest her return to opera should interfere with the financial success of the customary concerts at the Albert Hall. Ultimately the fears of Mr. Percy Harrison were allayed, and Mme. Patti confided to me that she would not be unwilling to consider an offer on certain terms from her old friend. I immediately set about arranging an interview between them in London. This was not altogether an easy matter. The great prima donna was to spend only one evening in town on her way to the Riviera, and the busy impresario, with whom minutes reckoned as hours, was not readily to be moved on an uncertain mission, as he chose to deem it, from one quarter of London to another. But eventually I persuaded him that Mme. Patti was really in earnest, and he consented to accompany me to Paddington station to meet the express from South Wales.

It was a bleak January evening, and of course the train was late. This was the more unlucky because it so happened that Tennyson's "King Arthur" was to be produced at the Lyceum that night, and we were both anxious to be at the theater at the time the curtain went up, I having to write a notice of Sullivan's incidental music to the new play. We were already in even

am really beginning to believe what they all ing dress, and as Harris was suffering from

tell me

that I am a wonderful little woman!

It is no exaggeration to say that every one without exception has been running after me and loading us with invitations, in fact to such a degree that I must honestly confess that I am getting decidedly tired of all the parties and gaieties we have been going through during the past few weeks. It has been an incessant lunching out, dining out, and receiving visitors from morning till night. I shall be very happy to see my dear Castle again and have a little peace and quietness.

It was just prior to this visit to the south of France that negotiations, in which I had the honor of acting as ambassador or intermediary, were concluded between Mme. Patti and Sir Augustus Harris for the diva's reappearance in opera at Covent Garden during the season of 1895. I had long devoutly wished for this consummation; but there were many obstacles to be removed, not the smallest of these being concerned with Messrs. Harrison of Birmingham, the managers of the "Patti Concerts" throughout the United Kingdom,

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a cold, I took care not to let him stand upon the drafty platform. We waited, therefore, by a warm fire at the station hotel, and discussed current events. My companion was not in his usual spirits, while that his mood was not sanguine was palpable from his frequent remark: "Klein, I can't believe Patti means to sing at Covent Garden this season." So I felt heartily glad when the train was signaled and the youthful little lady, as vivacious as ever in bearing, but silent under a mountain of wraps to protect her from the biting air, stepped buoyantly out of her saloon carriage and took Harris's arm to walk into the hotel. Not a word was spoken until we got to the private sitting-room. Then, greetings over, Mme. Patti, with an arch smile, asked Sir Augustus if he would like a little quiet conversation with her. He bowed graciously. The rest of us discreetly retired. Ten minutes later he came out of the room beaming with pleasure. "Make haste and say good-by. Adelina would like us to stay and dine, but we must n't;

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we must get a snack somewhere, and then hurry to the Lyceum." In the hansom he added: "It's all right. She sings at six performances, beginning the second week in June!" And we both felt as happy as school-boys.1

In the late summer of 1895 I was at Craig-y-nos once more. Work was all over for the season, and the indefatigable mistress of the castle, satiated with triumphs surpassing any that she had ever previously earned at Covent Garden, was thinking only how she could best amuse her guests and herself upon the stage of her beloved theater. It was decided to do a new "play without words." Several subjects were proposed, but the choice eventually fell upon Mrs. Henry Wood's " East Lynne," which, as every one knows, was dramatized many years ago and makes a most effective play. The scenario was soon prepared, and the rehearsals started. There was ample talent available for the rather lengthy cast. Mme. Patti, of course, played the heroine, Lady Isabel (afterward Mme. Vine); that talented amateur actor, C. P. Colnaghi (since deceased), was the Archibald Carlyle; another well-known amateur, Augustus Spalding, played Captain Levison; and I undertook the part of Richard Hare. Music for the mélodrame was expressly composed (at lightning speed) by our hostess's distant relative André Pollonnais, the clever French musician who afterward wrote for her the pantomime play " Mirka," in which she appeared at Nice for the benefit of the charities there. M. Pollonnais also set to music the lines of a lullaby which I especially wrote for Mme. Patti to sing in the scene where the supposed governess watches over her dying child in the nursery at East Lynne. This lullaby she afterward sang in public in London and elsewhere.

The performance of the wordless "East Lynne," on August 17, was perhaps the most complete artistic achievement in this direction accomplished at Craig-y-nos Castle. Certainly it yielded the finest piece of acting on Mme. Patti's part that I have known her to give at her own theater. It was also notable for a curious incident. Readers familiar with the novel or play will remember that when Mme. Vine revisits her former home she is dressed in widow's

weeds. Such a costume was worn by Mme. Patti, and very charming she looked in it. One person, however, objected strongly to her having donned a crape dress. That person was M. Nicolini. After the curtain had fallen he expressed himself on the subject in no measured terms, declaring that such attire "portait malheur," and that he did not like to see his wife in a costume which she might one day be compelled of necessity to wear. I pointed out to him that he might make the same complaint about the peignoir worn by Violetta when dying, or the prison garb of Marguerite in the last act of "Faust." But he refused to see it, and remarked: "Elles n'étaient jamais veuves, cettes femmes-là!" Which was perfectly true; and, having regard to subsequent events, his objection would appear to have been not altogether unjustifiable.

It was in the June of the succeeding year that Mme. Patti honored me by being the center of attraction at a dinner-party which I gave at Whitehall Court, followed by a large reception whereat some three hundred guests, well known in the musical, theatrical, and literary worlds, were bidden to meet the diva. The peculiarity of this function was that it united a good many celebrities who, for various reasons, are seldom brought together. For this, no doubt, good luck was largely responsible. One may know and invite many famous folk to dine or sup during the London season, but it will rarely happen that ninetyfive per cent. are disengaged and willing to come. In the present instance I cannot have received more than twenty refusals, all told. Thus it fell that when I took Mme. Patti in to dinner she found on her right her old friend Jean de Reszke, whom she had not met since the glorious "Roméo" time in Paris, eight years before. Édouard was of course there, facing his old confrère Nicolini, who chatted about his pet Cremona violins with the evergreen Alfredo Piatti. Among others present were my father's old friend and pupil, Lord Suffield, with Lady Suffield (now lord and lady in waiting to King Edward and Queen Alexandra), Sir Edward and Lady Lawson, Sir Augustus and

1 Her six appearances (as Violetta and Rosina) resulted in an unparalleled triumph for herself and a handsome profit for her old friend. Excepting on one occasion when she sang for a charity, she has not since appeared in opera at Covent Garden.

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