Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1892-03-31

~ 8AA8 WQ00GE4W4 8U11lGY &8 an AGT0E
quite as much as by his voice. The
king, who had saluted Fasquelo, the
pride Of the peninsula and entitled to-
wear his hat In the presence Of his
ruler like q grandee of Spain, rose to
his feet, clapped his hands and applaud
ed like any other enthusiast. After the
Fornos, and he was apparently indiRer-
emit to the transcendant honors that had
been showered upon him.
But it was different when saw him
last. He would have given the rest Of
his life for repetition Of such o scene.
The experiences Of kings In exile, ex-
presidents Of our republic and aged ten
orr must be filed with regrets and
griefs.
Campanini was q generous fellow
while his prosperity lasted. Not that
he threw money away, or gave it to his
friends; but he encouraged young sing
ers. bought himself q pretty country
place near Padua, where he entertained
guests in truly hospitable fashion and
lived well, but never extravagantly.
His chief mistake was the hberality
with which he dispensed his voice. He
was always willing to sing for any char
ity; he was obliging to the verge Of
generosity with his managers. Time
and again he has volunteered to sing
when his associates or the second tenor
were 'indisposed" was present at
the opera the night Gerster's voice failed
her. The opera was LA Sonambula."
The utmost confusion followed after
the poor prima donna was led of the
stage in tears. Colonel Mapelson an.
nounced that the money would be re-
funded at the box; but Campanini, who
was in the foyer with his wife, at once
volunteered to sing in ''n Trovatore."
After q delay Of half an hour the cur
tain rose and the opera was given to the
entire satisfaction of the vast audience.
The night was saved, but for that service
he positively declined to receive a dol
lar. This is only one Of many instances
of similar character, all of which re-
| dound to the glory of Campanini, but
prevented the growth of his bank &C
count for protection against the rainy
season of his life that has now set in.
The sadness of poor little Marie
Aimee's last days is quite unknown in
this country, where she had so many
| devoted admirers. I recollect distinct
ly her first appearance in New York
under the opera bouffe regime of
Jim Fisk. Her success was immediate.
We had heard Tosti, but Aimee's vivac-
| ity and suggestiveness were a revelation.
Not one of her successors up to the
time of Theo was worthy to be thought
rival. Persigny, Montaland and sew
| eral other freaks were brought over
from the gay capital, but for fifteen
years, or until her voice failed, Aimee
was easily the popular French favorite.
Yet the end came, and very gloomy
end it was. l remember to have picked
up a copy of Figaro in Paris one morn
| ing during the summer of 1887. Her
death from a tumor was announced in
half dozen lines, although worthy an
extended obituary notice.
The funeral was set down at an early
hour on the following day. Another
American and undertook to go, and
met at the Vincennes station in the
cold, raw morning air. We a1ighted at
a little station near Nogent, in the
Marine valley, and found sleepy cab
man who drove US through the mist
several miles to the quaint little cottage
In which Aimee had passed her last days.
There was no splendor. All the radi!
ance of the footlights was gone. A
few trophies and many photographs,
| inscribed with words Of afPectionate re-
| membrance, were there; but, alas,
| frugality appeared stamped upon every
article In the house.
The mourners appeared to be confined
to few neighbors, an aged bonnie and
peaked-faced girl of perhaps thirteen
years. This little child appeared utter
~ friendless, and was plunged in the
deepest sorrow. She spoke of the dead
singer as ''auntie," but the hard
featured old maidservant wouldn't
clear up the mystery, and q neighbor
who intimated that she could explain
positively refused to do so. The best
opinion obtainable was that the girl
was a wan that Aimee had adopted in
times Of prosperity; but during the
three years Of the mistress illness the
child had Jared little better than q
slavey.
The funeral service was brief as that
OF pauper's. In q few minutes the
little procession wendell its way to the
cemetery, and we two Americans found
ourselves among less than q dozen
mourners. Albert Wolff was there,
remember, and in my heart this act Of
his atoned for many Of the vicious things
said of him in his latter years. After
the grave was sealed up and the few
flowers that had been brought to the
place Of burial carefully bestowed, my
companion made final effort to ascer-
tain the fate Of the lonely child. She
said she was going back to the house
she had left, and with this indefinite
reply we had to be satisfied. Aimee's
effects were hardly worth enumerating.
A few thousand dollars would cover
their value.
She had had her fling. poor girl, and
paid dearly for it in her last days.