25th. Louise went to new Philharmonic to rehearsal. In the evening went to Queen's Theatre to see Toole in Oliver Twist—splendid. Mr. Santley went to Paris.
26th. Sunday. Dr. Quinn, Mr. Fechter and Arditi called. Louise and Miss Jarrett washed the dog! [This pet was one of the puppies of Titjiens's tiny and beautiful Pomeranian and I had it for a long time and adored it.] The 3 Miss Edwards called. Letter from Sarah.
27. Louise and I go to Rehearsal of Gazza Ladra and to hear Mr. Fechter in No Thoroughfare. He thinks more of himself than of the thoroughfare—good performance though. Letter from George Farnsworth.
28. Clear and cold. Rehearsed Gazza Ladra.
29. [Louise] sang at Philharmonic—duet Nozze di Figaro with Foli.
30th. Long rehearsal of Gazza. Dined at Duchess of Somerset's at 8 P.M. Met many best men of London. Duke of Newcastle took Louise in to dinner. Col. Williams took me. Duchess is an old tyrant—sang Louise to death—unmerciful—I despise her for her selfishness.
Indeed, every minute of those spring weeks was occupied and more than occupied. I never was so busy before and never had such a good time. The "season" was a delightful one; and certainly no one had a more varied part in it than I. Thanks to the Dowager Duchess and our friends we went out frequently; and I was singing four and five times a week counting concerts. Private concerts were a great fad that season and I have often sung at two or three different ones in the same evening.
Colonel Mapleson was in great feather, having three prime donne at his disposal at once, for Christine Nilsson had soon joined us, that curious mixture of "Scandinavian calm and Parisian elegance" as I have heard her described. No two singers were ever less alike, either physically or temperamentally, than she and I; yet, oddly enough, we over and over again followed each other in the same rôles. Titjiens, Nilsson, and I sang together a great deal that season, not only in opera but also in concert. Our voices went well together and we always got on pleasantly. Madame Titjiens was no longer at the zenith of her great power, but she was very fine for all that. I admired Titjiens greatly as an artist in spite of her perfunctory acting. Cold and stately, she was especially effective in purely classic music, having at her command all its traditions:—Donna Anna for instance, and Fidelio and the Contessa. I sang with her in the Mozart operas. Particularly do I recall one night when the orchestra was under the direction of Sir Michael Costa. Both Titjiens and Nilsson were singing with me, and the former had to follow me in the recitative. Where Susanna gives the attacking note to the Contessa Sir Michael's 'cello gave me the wrong chord. I perceived it instantly, my absolute pitch serving me well, but I hardly knew what to do. I was singing in Italian, which made the problem even more difficult; but, as I sang, my sixth sense was working subconsciously. I was saying over and over in my brain: "I've got to give Titjiens the right note or the whole thing will be a mess. How am I going to do it?" I sang around in circles until I was able to give the Contessa the correct note. Titjiens gratefully caught it up and all came out well. When the number was over, both Titjiens and Nilsson came and congratulated me for what they recognised as a good piece of musicianship. But Sir Michael was in a rage.
"What do you mean," he demanded, "by taking liberties with the music like that?"
One cannot afford to antagonise a conductor and he was, besides, so irascible a man that I did not care to mention to him that his 'cello had been at fault. He was a most indifferent musician as well as a narrow, obstinate man, although London considered him a very great leader. He only infuriated me the more by remarking indulgently, one night not long after, as if overlooking my various artistic shortcomings: "Well, well,—you're a very pretty woman anyway!" It was his "anyway" that irrevocably settled matters between us. He disliked Nilsson too. He declared both in public and in private that her use of her voice was mere "charlatanry and trickery" and not worthy to be called musical. Nilsson was not, in fact, a good musician; few prime donne are. On one occasion she did actually sing one bar in advance of the accompaniment for ten consecutive measures. This is almost inconceivable, but she did it, and Sir Michael never forgave her.