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."