SOME AUTHENTICATED GHOST STORIES.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 233, 28 February 1885, Page 1

SOME AUTHENTICATED GHOST STORIES.

By H. L. Cowen.

11. THE CANTKATI-ICE'S STOItY. Most of us artists had heard the report that the Teatro Reale, in the City of Benvenuto, was haunted. People declared that on any night when Bellini's opera of ' I Montecchi c I Capuletti' happened to be performed there, the ghost of the slain Mercutio appeared to the Giulietta, whoever she might be, and scared that lady more or less ; generally more than less. The accredited story of the cause of the apparition was tbat many, many years ago the actor then filling the part of Romeo at the theatre I have named had quarrelled with him playing Merculio, anent a marked predilection which Giulietta in her everyday and off the stage existence exhibited towards the said Meroutio, and, to revenge himself, he (Romeo) had taken the opportunity, when he interfered in the duel with Tybalt, of giving poor Mercutio a thrust with his sword, which wounded him so grievously that he died within an hour in the dressing-room appropriated to the first lady of the company, and to which, as the nearest apartment, the injured gentleman had been conveyed. Such was the legend ; and as for the ghost making itself visible to the prima donnas, that was unmistakable. Signoras Catasqualli and Screechvelli had both scon it, or said they had, which came to the same thing. And Sottovoce, the fat and antiquated soprano! Why, wheu it stood before her, it so completely shook her nerves, that never from that evening could she again attempt dramatic singing. But then folk were uncharitable enough to say that Sottovoce's organ was gone "from old age, obesity, and Dublin stout ; and that on the night previous to the apparition she had been so 'goosed' (the exertions of the d-tfjite notwithstanding) that the administration of tlie Teatro Reale had said, 'It is enough, madam e ; you must go into retirement and give lessons, the public will no longer listen to you on the boards." So you will quite understand that when, in 187 — , II Signor Costa-Monga engaged me for a tour through the Italian provinces, stipulating not only the characters I was to take, but the places wjbere such were to be token, I was much alarmed at finding that ' I Montecchi c I Capuletti ' was named in the repertoire, and the Teatro Reale, Benvenuto, tlie very identical spot where it was to be rendered. With tears in my eyes, I begged the director to substitute another opera for the ' spectre ' one, as we were wont to call it; but Costa-Monga, who was a terrible selfwilled savage, and could gaze unmoved upon a young girl's tears, replied — ' No ; certainly not. Romeo is my tenor, Enrico Collini's ' — his real name was 'Arry Collings, and he was an Englishman, born in ' Acini cy — ' best character ; in the serenade scene he takes bis not-to-be-equalled G sharp in alto, and I could notr^eprive Collini of his G for all the world. Therefore, charming Signorina Violette di Qualchi Cosa, you will either sing, as I propose, "Giulietta," in Benvenuto, or you will not sing at all in my troupe. The option rests with you. entirely, ma belle. ' What could Ido ? I was yoking, and had my name to make, otherwise I would have said — ' Go to the dickens, my disobligingfriend; I shall not take the role of the lovesick Capulet girl, and run the risk of being confronted vrijih. the wraith ot Mercutio, dead and turned to clay. If you be not contented with Marguerite and Zerlina, with Lucrecia and Aniina, with Lucia and Elvira, and half-a-dozen other star parts of mine, addfo. It will suit my book* equaUy well, or letter, to engage with Mapelsoni,

who wants me.' But as neither my risingreputation or my purse could afford the loss, into the provinces I went with the Co3ta-Monga. It is quite unnecessary to toll you in what rotation we took the different cities of King Humbert's dominions, or what operas wo gave in each ; enough to say that quite at the end of our theatrical outing we found ourselves in Benvenuto, which then had, and still has, the reputation of being the most musical town of musical Italy, the noble art being deeply loved and cultivated there, just as it is in your Manchester of England. In thi3 celebrated abode of melody and its vcta.ie:. our success was marked; and as 'Norma,' ' Somnambula,' and other works of the great msestro Bellini had been rendered by us, I endeavoured once again — upon the toujours perdrix principle— to induce CostaMonga to eliminate ' I Montecchi c I Capuletti ' from his list, and more particularly so* as one morning, upon my going to the Teatro Reale for rehearsal, I had found the following billet left for me with the sta°*edoorkeeper: — ° ' One who has seen the shade of Signor Beluomini, the slain Mercutio of this theatre, warns the young prima donna to avoid the character of Giulietta. and let the dead rest.' When I showed this note to Costa-Monga, he burst out laughing, said what in English may be translated as 'bosh,' and declared that the whole thing was a ruse of Rivalli, an opposition tenor of Collini, to prevent his singing the serenade I have spoken of. '.No, my little one,' he continued, 'I never alter my programme, and the work we talk about must be represented, for see this !' He brought out of a corner of his office a huge coloured poster, ready to be placarded all over the place. It read thus : — ' On Monday next will be produced, with grand scenic effect, Bellini's favourite tragic opera, ' I Montecchi c I Capuletti.' Romeo, Signor Enrico Collini : Giulietta, Signorina Violette di Qualchi Cosa. During the ball scene the world-famed danscnw, Mademoiselle Blnncpied, from the Grand Opera in Paris, will give her marvellous pas de Diablerie, and her renowned galop, Des Grimaces et des Contortions. Conductor, llerr JSteeke.' What could I now do '. Simply nothing but let matters take their course. I had * set my life upon a cast. And must withstand the hazard of the dig.' or, to be correct, the dead. Besides, who could say? Maybe the ill-fated Mercutio, who had frightened the uncomely Catasqualli and the somewhat "deformed, unfinished" Screechveliivft-nn I had (supposititiously) driven the antiquated and obese Sottovoce off the stage with his presence, might be gallant enough to remain in his tomb when he knew that he had to appear to a young and well-favoured little cantatrice. . Thus, for t\vo or three days, I went about in a sort of nervous tremour andlapprehension 5 and on the night of the performance, as I repaired to the theatre, I was quiveringlike an aspen leaf, and felt that for voice I had not a note in its whole compass which was not tremnloso. But still, it surprised me that having* " screwed my courage to the stickiug-place," clothed myself in the rich and most becoming costume of the belle of the Capulets of Verona, and having on my entrance been greeted with enthusiastic applause by a crowded and critical audience, how my spirits rose to the occasion. I was heart and soul in my role ; the ghost was quite forgotten. The opera proceeded, and at every scene of mine,. success followed upon success. At last tho curtain fell amidst the loudest of bravas. and clapping of hands; my recall twice, thrice, was insisted upon, and upon every entree bouquets of the choicest flowers were showered upon. me. Moreover,, the Prince Leandro .d'Elles-

ponte came into the salon, offered me his warmest congratulations, and gave me this ring as a souvenir of the enjoyment I had afforded him. Emanuel, of the Palais Royal, says that its •diamonds are only paste. No matter ; they sparkle, and look real at a distance. Of course several times during the piece I •had to retire to my dressing-room to make alterations in my costume. On each occasion asi entered itl was in terrible fear and trepidation, expecting to be greeted by the dreaded Mercutio: but as I saw nothing, I became more and more assured, and convinced myself that the ghost must have beeu purely imaginative, or that its counterfeiting was a secret and clever trick of stage machinists, done to keep up a time-honoured theatrical tradition. When, as I said before, the whole thing was ended, I repaired once more to my apartment, to cast aside altogether stage habiliments, and to put on my own more homely and every-day attire. This time the French dresser, Fifine, wag with me, and I felt quite plucky and chivalrous as we passed along the coulisses and entered the room. The gas had been lowered, aud but the very tiniest of sparks glimmered in the lamp. The candles also on the dressing-table had been extinguished, so that almost complete darkness reigned around. •Ma foi!' exclaimed the woman ; • the manager is stingy indeed ! Hardly half an hour are you, mademoiselle, out of this musty old room for the tomb scene on the stage, and down goes the gas to the fraction of an inch, and out go the bougies altogether. Bah ! a gallant French director would have had the maudit hole made brilliant for your comfort, with, perhaps, a flask of champagne and a delicate morsel laid out for your refection. Bete ! but I'll have the lights up very soon, and ruin him in gas !' As she spoke she turned up the taps of the gaselier, and in one second the whole place was thrown into brightness and glare. • Fifine — Fifine, look there — there !' I gasped out. 'Where, my lady?— where? How you scare my wits with your frightened air! Where? I see nothing." • There, I tell you — there !' - Bon Dieu, I look here, there, everywhere, but I observe nothing.' 'No ? There, on the sofa— there !' Seated on that couch, his head resting on his arm, was the figure of a young man in the costume of Mercutio, with slashed doublet, hose, bonnet, and plume, and the empty scabbard of a sword belted by his side. His face was calm; every feature of it placid, but wearing, oh, so sad and melancholic an expression! I can never forget that look as long as I live ! Although my eyes dwelt but for an instant upon the form, yet every lineament, ■every line, every curve of it was graven upon my brain as if by magic. I could sketch it how as well as if it were on that settee in this room before me. Seemingly as if it but waited my coming, the figure rose and stood before me. Then it pointed with its right hand towards the stage, slowly shook its head, and vanished. ' Fifine, Fifine, it is gone !' I cried ; and then I rushed out, I know not where. * * * * I was forced to throw up the rest of my engagement with Costa-Monga, and go into retirement at Nice, Mentone, and other places, until my nerves had recovered from the shock they had received. Afterwards I slipped over to the United States, and the practical, matter-of-fact Yankees soon dispelled the illusion (if it were illusion, but to which idea I distinctly say no.) Then I returned home and resumed my professional career, having, as you know, been pretty busy aud pretty successful in it. 'Yes, Signorina. Witness last night's furore at Covent Garden in your impersonation of Rosina in ' II Barbiere.' ' True, my friend ; but whether I rise still higher in my noble and beloved art. or whether I sink to the level of the music-hall -or cafe chantant, never again, believe me, will a single passage of Bellini's " I Montecchi c I Capuletti" pass my lips. Mercutio's spirit liaunts every bar of it.'

(To be continued.)