QUEENS OF SONG

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16668, 25 February 1922, Page 16

QUEENS OF SONG

Madame Tetrazzini has written a book, “My Life of Song.” Apropos of this the “New Statesman” writes: —

“ Great singers resemble royalties. They, too, collect round them lords and ladies in waiting, and in tho background there is usually a crushed, anxicrus and devoted secretary. Everyone who has seen both Royal personages and great singers at close quarters must have been struck by the resemblance- The grand, bland, kind, slow way in which Patti and Albani used to enter a drawing-room was—there is only one word for it—reginal. Alndame Tetrazzini’s autobiography kept reminding me of the printed confidences with which, from time to time. Royalty has favoured us. 1 am sure if Queen Alexandra were to write her memoirs they would ho like Tetrazzini’s. In queens of song and queens who wear crowns you find the same unblushing emotional simplicity ; with the same enveloping gesture they take us all to their hearts. That the one talks of ‘ my people ’ and the other of ‘ my audiences ’ is of no consequence, for they have the same emotional relation towards this huge, composite entity, that dear, dear monster, adorably faithful and warm-hearted, which cheers with a million mouths, smile?* and twinkles with a million eyes, and waves with a million hands. It must be, as Henry James would have said, ‘ exceeding rum ’ to have in one’s life such a vague, gigantic lover—a lover whoa© affection and approbation remains, if the most expected, still ever the most thrilling of joys; to whom in return one would feel (if ono were a good woman) a devoted sens© of duty * If T coukl have done, I would have written this life in the language of pongs,’ says Queen Tetrazzini. And that reminds me what, after all, from a literary point of view, were Queen Victoria’s messages to her people but ‘ a few simple chords touched upon the piano ’ ? I am sure she felt that what she needed, at the close of jubilee day, was to burst info song. “ Alen and women who live in publio are psychologically akin to each other. I am told l>v a friend that to meet Carpentier is exactly like meeting a 3 T oung prince. Actresses, however, when they reach the top of the European tree, when they, too, live in the stare of 4 the wide-open eye of the solitary skv,’ seldom develop, however, that considerate reginal manner. They are too busy, and their work is too wearing, emotionally. Tho apprenticeship of a prima donna is very hard, but one© she is risen slie swims leisurely in a serener air. Thus, famous actresses. though they may often fairly plead Airs Gamp’s excuse, ‘fiddlestringa is nothing to expredge mv nerves,’ are apt to be downright naughty to every one all round ; while the queen of song, though she may in the course of her career trample on an impresario or two, is socially extremely kind. “ A prima donna has another, subtle but important characteristic in common with a queen. Both feel they owe their sway over the emotions of others to something extrinsic, something as separate from themselves, as a magic rose or ring; in the one case it is a voice, in the other a crown. Ths thought seems to nourish in both a benign humility and a simple religious gratitude. I do not know why the possession of a wonderful pair of vocal chords should seem to a woman less a part of herself than a wonderful pair of eyes, hut I have observed that the possession of the latter seldom producer that almost apologetic gratitude 7 have detected in the lives of great singers. Queen Tetrazzini says that up to time of writing her voice has earned her over a million pounds, and I can see she is very "rateful to heaven and to ‘ her people-’ Of coursi . several times every year tliis sum, or at least tho Use and advantages of such a fortune, is won at a blow, without any work at all, bv beauties* yet never in my experience, and T am getting on in years has it happened to me that while walking through the splendid park or spacious rooms of one of those fortun ate ones, has she turned to me and exclaimed, ‘ All this in the result of the delicious tilt of my nose.’ Prima donnas are more humble ; when they tell the fairy stories of their lives they say, *lt was my voice, my magic rose.*

Ah ! little Tetrazzini,’ said her old maestro, ‘ you have something very wonderful in your throat.’ ‘Have I, maestro? Please tell me what is there.’ * You have palaces and castles and horses and coaches, beautiful lands and lovely jewels, a great name and thousands of admirers.’ The little Tetrazzini opened her mouth wide. ‘ If I have horses down my throat, maestro, take two oUthein out, and lot’s have a glorious gallop over the hills, instead of staying in this stuffy old school.' ‘ Ah! you are pleased to he funny, little Tetrazzini, hut one day von will know T was serious. Then you will remember, and think kindly of your old maestro, who will be probably dead find forgotten.’ 4 When vast audiences in world capitals.* Alndame Tetrazzini continues, * have risen in their seats, waved their hands and cheered und cheered my singing till I was overwhelmed by the joyous tumult, I have thought of my old maestro and his words, and thought. ‘ Would that he were here to-night to share with me the success of his old pupil !’ 1 like *to share with me,’ not my success, hut 4 the success ’ —as it might he, of a little Betsinda. It is, you see, all fairy story from beginning to end, told by the heroine, a little girl who was given once a magic rose.”