Part 72

I said to Strakosch, "I can't go on forever, tripping on and off the stage like that!" He answered, laconically, "Well, you see people have paid much for their tickets, and they want their money's worth."

I said, "I wish the tickets cost less."

The flowers (you should have seen them!) were mostly what they call here "floral tributes" (what you would call des pièces montées), and were brought in by a procession of ushers and placed on the stage. I do not mention the quantities of bouquets handed up to me!

One "floral tribute" received an ovation as it was borne up the aisle by four men, and hauled up on to the stage by a man who came from the side scenes. It was a harp made entirely of flowers, about six feet high. It made quite a screen for me as I went in and out. The card of the harp was brought to me, and I read, "H. P. Stalton, 'Asleep in Jesus,' North Conway." I had no idea what it meant, but mama remembered that some years ago, when she and I were traveling in the White Mountains, we stopped overnight at the little town of North Conway. At the hotel we heard that a lady had died, and her son was terribly grieved. There was to be a funeral service the next morning in the parlor of the inn. I asked, "Do you think that I might sing something?" "Of course, any music would be welcome," was the answer. So I chose the hymn, "Asleep in Jesus," which I sang when the time came. As there was nothing but an old piano, I preferred to sing without accompaniment. I was very much affected, and I suppose my voice showed my emotion, because other people were equally affected. As for the young man, he knelt on the floor and put his hands over his face and sobbed out loud. Poor fellow, my heart bled for him!

I sang the hymn through with difficulty. The last verse I sang pianissimo and very slowly. The silence was painful; you could have heard a pin drop. The whole scene was very emotional, and I remember feeling that I never wanted to go through such a thing again. The young man had not forgotten, after all these years, either the song or the singer. Hence the beautiful harp of flowers to thank me. I should have liked to have seen him, to thank him.

There is a very sad, pathetic, and patriotic song called "Tender and True" by a composer, Alfred Pease, which I sing. Strakosch said, "You must have in your répertoire something American." This song is about a young soldier who takes "a knot of ribbon blue" from his ladylove, and who dies on the battle-field with the knot of ribbon on his breast. When I sing "the flag draped over the coffin lid" the whole audience is dissolved in tears. The women weep openly; the men hide behind their opera-glasses and try to blow their noses noiselessly between the verses.

I always finish with "Beware!" and Charles always accompanies me, which pleases him very much. He thinks that American audiences are very appreciative, because they stand up and clap and the women wave their handkerchiefs.

I tell him they stand up because the next thing they are going to do is to go out.

WORCESTER, December, 1871.

DEAR MOTHER,--Thanks for your letter. I had hoped to have received better news of Charles.

When he left Thursday he did not look well, but I thought it was owing to the excitement and late hours and the irregular life we have been leading. He wanted to go to Cambridge, where he thought that he could take better care of himself. I would have gone with him, but I felt that I could not leave Strakosch and Worcester in the lurch.

If I don't receive a reassuring telegram from you, I shall start off without delay.

I was dreadfully nervous and unstrung, as you will see, when I tell you how I blundered. I do not like singing in oratorio. Getting up and sitting down all the time, holding and singing from a book, losing my place and having to find it in a hurry, is not what I like. However, I got on very well at first, but there is a place in the score where three angels come forward and sing a trio without accompaniment. Then the soprano (me) steps in front and sings, without a helping note: "Hail, Hail, O Lord God of Hosts!" The orchestra and chorus take up the same phrase after me.

I sang boldly enough, "Hail, Hail, O Lord God of Hosts!" but suddenly felt cold shivers down my back when Zerrahn tapped his baton on his stand, thereby stopping all further proceedings, and turning to me said, in a low whisper, "A half-tone lower."

Good gracious, how could I find the right note! First I had to remember the last tone I had sung, then I had to transpose it in my head, all in an instant. It was a critical moment.

Suppose I did not hit the right note! The whole orchestra and the two- hundred-man-strong chorus would come thundering after me--the orchestra on the right key and the chorus following in my footsteps.

I turned cold and hot, and my knees trembled under me. You may imagine what a relief it was when I heard things going on as if nothing had happened. I had struck the right note! And I finished the oratorio without further disaster. I do not think that any one in the audience remarked anything wrong.

I said to Zerrahn, after: "Could you not have helped me? Could you not have given me the note?"

"No," he answered. "Impossible! I could not ask the nearest violinist to play the note, and I could not trust myself to find it. I was as nervous as you were."

CUBA, HAVANA, January, 1873.

DEAR MAMA,--We left New York in a fearful blizzard. It was snowing, hailing, blowing, and sleeting; in fact, everything that the elements could do they did on that particular day. We were muffled up to our ears in sealskin coats, furs, boas, and so forth, and were piloted over the wet and slippery deck to our stateroom on the upper deck, which we wished had been on the under deck, as it was continually washed by the "wild waves."

We knew pretty well "what the wild waves were saying"; at least Laura did, and they kept on saying it until well into the next day.

I being an old sailor (not in years but in experience), as I had crossed the Atlantic several times, felt very superior on this occasion, and looked down without sympathy on the maiden efforts of my suffering sister; and, having dressed, goaded her almost to distraction to get up and do likewise, which she obstinately refused to do.

After ordering breakfast I ventured out on deck, to find myself alone, among deserted camp-stools. I realized then that the others preferred "rocking in the cradle of the deep" in their berths and in the privacy of their cabins. I myself felt very shaky as I stumbled about on the deck holding on to the rails, and I, hurrying back to the haven of my stateroom, happened to meet the struggling steward endeavoring to balance the tray containing the breakfast I had ordered, and to make his way through my door.

The steward, the tray, and I all collided. The result was disastrous: the food made a bee-line for the ceiling, the drinkables flooded the already wet floor and our shoes, while cups, saucers, plates, and dishes were scattered to fragments.

All that day we and every one were dreadfully sick; but what a contrast the next day was! A hot, tropical sun blazed down on us, the awnings were put up, the ladies appeared in lighter costumes, the men in straw hats and thin jackets. How odious our warm wraps and rugs seemed! And how completely our discomforts of the day before had disappeared! Laura had forgotten her miseries, and was already planning another sea-trip, and eagerly scanning the menu for dinner, to which she did ample justice.

The third day was still hotter; parasols, summer dresses, and fans made their appearance, and at four o'clock we saw Morro Castle and the lighthouse; and we steamed (literally, for we were so hot) up the exquisite harbor, where white Havana lay like a jewel on the breast of the water.

Hot! It must have been one hundred and ninety in the shade--if there had been any; but there was none. The glare of the whiteness of the city and the reflection on the water, the air thick with perfumes, gave us a tropical tinge, and made us shudder to think what we should have to endure before we could rest in the hotel, which we hoped would be cool.