New-York tribune., 1922-11-19


cause he had won prizes in singing at
meetings in which no one dared to COM
pete with him.
In celebrating his own glories more
modern singers have been less original
and only little less modest. To un-
hitch the horses from prima donna'a
carriage and have it dragged to her
hotel by man power, with howling,
hurrahing, huzzaing crowd surround
ing it, was once popular device, but
1t had not been seen in New York for
many years until it was revived last
| season. 1t had seemed to be for
gotten and neglected because, per-
hsps, it was too silly and, also perhaps,
q bit too obvious. We remember an
occasion when the trick appeared SO
tawdry that two newspaper critics
tried to wipe out the disgrace OF it by
giving banquet to its object which
| was really worthy Of the artist and
the anniversary which it had been de-
signed to celebrate. 1t came back into
our mind few days ago when we
read an amusing story Of how a like
enort to make advertising for an
artist had gone amiss. First, our own
account.
a Torchlight Procession
And Banquet for Patti
Nine. Adelina Patti was 6l1ing
an engagement at the Academy of
Music just twenty-five years after her
DEBUT In opera, which had taken place
IN the same theater. Colonel Maple
son, the manager, was playinp
losing game with his season, but
thought something might be done to
ralse the wind. So, after an "anni.
vefsary performance" of Martha he
collected lot Of hoodlums from the
East Side, provided them with torches,
ana after the show was over had them
pun mis- carriage to the Windsor Hotel
and march in procession behind it.
1At the next representation the critics
OF THE Times" and Tribune. vexed
(foolishly perhaps, but Nine. Patti
was great artist who had their pro-
fesslonal admiration) at the rap-tap
and bob-tail demonstration" decided
that the lady should be worthily hon
ored. They planned dinner at which
people of artistic and social quality
should testify to her greatness. IN
happily, society was looking askance
at the singer just then because she
had discarded her husband, the Mar
quls de Caux, and eloped with the
French tenor Nicolini, and after the
invitations were out the two unselfish
enthusiasts discovered that the ladies
who had been invited refused to ait
at table with her who was called the
diva. 1t was an awkward predicament,
but way out was found by inviting
her over again to a "stag" party COM
posed Of men Of ietters-the bench,
the bar and music. She accepted, and
all was we'll. 1t was in several RESPECTS
an extraordinary occasion and it served
its purpose.
How Madame Calves Maid
Was Fosed in Venice
Now for another story, which, be-
cause we cannot tell it better and
know nothing about the facts, we copy
from just-published autobiography
of Emma Calvs, entitled my Life"
(New York, D. Appleton & Coz.
Madame CaIve is recounting the story
of her first tour in Italy and has re-
ferred to her triumph as Ophelia Gin
Ambrose Thomas's opera s"Hamlet'')
at the Fenice Theater in Venice.
One afternoon went to the theater
rather earlier than usual. As I en-
tered saw group of porters and
mechanics hovering around a little
sedan chair which stood in the wings,
and which | had not noticed before. 1t
| had been built for Patti on her last
stay in Venice. She feared the damn.
ness of the canals and insisted on
being carried to and from her hotel in
this specially constructed portantina.
AS I made my way toward my dressing
! room the stage manager, who had been
in animated conversation with tho
/ group around the sedan chair. ap-
preached me.
"Will Mademoiselle be so kind as to
tell me how much she weighs?" he
asked.
"a hundred and twenty-five pounds"
]. answered, much surprised at the
the question.
"Spiendid!" he exclaimed. "Just the
| thing! Mademoiselle, If she wishes,
can use PATHS sedan chair. The
porters will not carry more than a GER
tain weight, but Mademoiselle is ex-
actly right"
was Of course delighted. Every
evening I made the journey through
the narrow alleys Of old Venice, and,
as my portantina was unique, / was
known all along the route. The street
urchins began cheering as soon as they
saw it appear at the end of street.
"Ecco Ia prima donnal" they shouted.
"Here she comes! e viva! Z viva!"
My farewell performance at Venice
was gala night. The stage was
inundated with flowers, the audi
ence wildly enthusiastic. Finally, it
was time 20 go home, and my mother
sent my maid to call the porters. Tais
maid, Valerie, was Partisan, dark,
graceful and not unlike me in build
and coloring. She loved to initiate my
way Of walking, my gestures, some
times even my clothes. She wore n
mantilia, and at distance might cas-
lily be mistaken for her mistress.
lfy mother and I sat waiting in my
dressing room for a long time. Valerie
sasr,ed fs, ne r1nacc0untabIy slow Wa