The herald., 1896-02-23
ABOUT THE WORLDS SINGERS
Good nature-or what!

AOVOl VVNkD SsiNO6NS
Good nature-or what!
Many years ago, when the one and
only Jenny Lind was here, she drove
her audiences wild by her charming
rendition of the simplest melodies
Home, Sweet Home was a fsvorite song
with her as an encore, and I remember
distinctly an expression of then emf
nent critic, Mr.. Frye, to the effect that
"Jenny Lind sang Home, Sweet Home
as if she had one." or late years, that
is, all along from 1865 to 1896, Patti's
before the curtain is also and always
Home, Sweet Home. 1t would be
amusing If any critic, however emf
nent, were to challenge the great diva's
Interpretation Of anything musical
but every man to his taste, and l am
free to say that PATHS continuous
harping upon that particular string
has to me become decidedly monoton.
GUS and wearisome. Christine Nilsson
made her great popular hit by singing
Way Down Upon the Suwanee River,
over which vast audiences tumultuous-
ly raved, and now Melba. recognizing
the vigor Of the popular epidemic, gra-
ciously yields herself to the Home,
Sweet Home fever, combining herself,
however, as a rule, to single verse.
Why do they do it?
With the final fall Of the curtain,
after complying with the demands of q
nerve-straining. physique-testing role,
one would think these great artists
would seek the rest and comfort af-
forded by the eeclusion Of their dres S.
ing rooms and the subsequent quiet of
their homes. They do nothing of the
kind. They not only respond, but re-.
respond with apparent alacrity and evil
dent enjoyment, to the calls and re-
calls; sometimes six or eight appear
ances in succession, each requiring
smiles. and bows in profusion. and
often parade across the stage and
back again, giving no sign of fatigue,
no evidence of annoyance. As in the
instance of the great artists referred to
above, occasionally these responses are
supplemented by demand for "Home,
Sweet Home" q demand invariably
supplied. Sunday night concerts are
patronized by classes of men and
women who are not found, as
q rule, in the auditorium during an
operatic performance. It is noted that
in the Metropolitan Opera House, for
instance, when the great body of the
thester is crowded, with hundreds Of
people standing about and the galleries
packed, the box tier is nearly deserted.
Here and there a group of actresses,
elsewhere unemployed members of the
opera company, with now and then a
dude and his best girl, cit in the boxes,
but their presence simply emphasizes
the absence of the regular occupants.
With these audiences the habit Of en-
core becomes q positive, an unmiti-
gated nuisance. Men who rarely 60 to
q concert and women who but semi-oc-
casionally are privileged to hear great
artists, naturally desire to get all they
can for their moneys worth, and per-
hsps are not to be censured because
they, make the endeavor. To the great
audience, however, q repetition is q
nuisance.
But how about the artists?
What one sees with his eyes he must
telieve. If, therefore, when a singer,
man or woman, eminent in the lyric
armament, having done his devoir per-
fectly, jumps so quickly to an encore
as sometimes to suggest that he mis-
takes approval for request for more,
what is the inevitable inference? lam
told that artists who are not encored
feel keen sense of disappointment,
while those who are asked to do it
again feel complimented and repaid
for the exertion. So it becomes q
rather difficult problem to solve; but it
may we'll be urged, in defense of the
custom, that il the audience demands
it with earnestness and the singers
supply it with eagerness, it's the busi-
ness Of nobody else. To this, however,
I take exception. Ushers. claquers
and personal friends very often initiate
and maintain q vexatious applause,
which, although noisy, is not general,
and in no sense indicates the desire of
the majority. They carry their point,
however, and are pleased.