Newspaper Page Text
SIXTH VAGE
'HE SUNNY SOUTH
TRUE Stories of Ghosts
in ^Southern Homes jz?
Written for The Sunny South by MRS HUGH HAGAN
M RS. HUGH HAG AX. who writes
this interesting story. Is one of th-3
test known southern writers, having:
contribute 1 several excellent stories
to The Century Magazine. Mrs. Ha
gan is especially well known in Geor
gia, being: a resident of Atlanta. The
Sunny South readers will be pleased
to know that she has become one of
Its contributors and will look forward
to something from her pen at an ca.-ly
date.
*
•■'■■Ir HENRY HUDSON in his
I Tk/f I “Daw of Psychic Phenom-
I Iwl I ena” presents a most
■ * I plausible theory in regard
to the law of spiritism,
suggesting: that It :s sim
ply the dominance of the
subjective over tin* object
ive mind.
In other words, when
one sees visions o? disem
bodied spirits, they are
___________ impressions within one's
own consciousness or impressions gained
from the sub-conscious mind of another,
made to appear supernatural by the sub
jective mind brought above the threshold
cf consciousness.
Whether correct or not Mr. Hudson’s
thoughts on this line are mo,?t convincing?
certain it Is we get no word from the
dead, but have we not a sixth sense by
the exercise of which at times and on
rare occasions a seeming communion ex
ists with departed spirit.*:?
It is not the purpose of this article to
fKempt to argue, but simply to present
The Famous Old John Cobb Place at Athens, Ga
He did not speak, but she felt within
herself that he had much to say, and also
received the strong impression that he
refrained, fearing to frighten her. As
she arose to go to him, he vanished.
Shortly after this Mrs. Clay-Clopton
awakened at midnight and lay wondering
as to the cause, when the footsteps of
her lame brother in law, now dead, were
During the civil war this house was
closed, Mrs. Cobb having died, and the
colonel being away in the army of north
ern Virginia. The furniture, save in
one room, was packed and stored in the.
garret, leaving the old home a picture of
desolation.
The daughter of the house, the young
widow of Colonel Jefferson Lamar,
youngest brother of United States Jus
tice L. Q. C. Lamar, had occasion to
open the house for the purpose of remov
ing some of the household effects. She was
accompanied by ti e wife of her uncle,
the late Chief Justice Jackson, of Geor
gia.
As all the homes in Athens overlooked
their own broad acres, the distance be
tween them was great; hence the old
-John Cobb” house, standing alone among
the trees, bereft by death of its mistress,
forsaken through war by its master, dis
mantled by servants of its furnishings,
and musty throughout as the scent of
the winding sheet, offered a piteous wel
come to its fair guests.
A midsummer stillness pervaded the
place—even among the Waves there was
no sound or movement.
Retiring early to the one furnished
room, situated on the second floor, Mrs.
Lamar left an order for the coachman
at a certain hour to come and sleep Just
outside her chamber door, and to keep
lights burning everywhere.
Mrs. Jackson was in the act of disrob
ing herself when she saw standing in the
door her old negro mammy, long since
dead, in the favorite position she al
ways took when waiting "fur de baby."
A thin veil seemed to hang before hgr.
Mrs. Jackson exclaimed, "O Sissy, there’s
Channy!” As Mrs. Lamar turned, the
doors of the house slammed and every
light went out, though there was not a
breath of air'stirring.
The shock proved so great to Mrs.
Jackso.n’s system that she was ill for
months after.
The Banshee Cry
Mrs. Clarence Stacy tells an interest
ing and authentic story about the "Ban
shee cries” often heard by her grand
mother in the home. More than once
it happened that as they were grouped
about the fireside there would be heard
a crash as of china, and tne younger
members of the circle would look up with
blanched faces to see the old lady (the
owner of the Banshee) with lifted hands
and solemn voice cry, “The Banshee!"
and never did it fall but within the. twen
ty-four hours after this weird cry had
sounded through the house, tidings of
death would follow.
The "Banshee” cry, Mr. Hudson can
explain away, as he did the "daemon” of
Socrates, but what can be said of the
sound of crashing china that always pre
ceded the cry, and was heard by every
member of t! » large househn’-”*
Gen Cosby’s Mother
The last and most remarkable incident
here cited occurred in Sacramento, Cal.,
at the home of General George B. Cosby.
Mrs. Cosby, be it known, is the most
practical of practical persons, believing in
nothing she hears and only half of what
she sees. Totally devoid of Imagination,
she has little patience with those who
permit it to play any part iti their lives.
In the summer of 1SS5 her brother, in
the last stages of pulmonary' trouble,
came to reside in her home
Being filled with fancies peculiar to
sick people, he refused all attendance, at
his bedside save that of Mrs. "Cosby.
Indulging his caprice, she faithfull—
and lovingly ministered to him until
one night, completely' exhausted, she sat
by his side wondering how long her
strength would stand the terrible demand
being made upon it, and trying to plan
some way' by' which* she could Induce
her brother to permit a nurse to relieve
her in some of the long vigils. There
was no gas burning in the room, but
through the open door from the hallway
a brilliant light streamed in.
No hallucination clouded the brain of
this common sense, energetic woman.
Bodily fatigue had swept her mind of
all thoughts save the one of procuring
an assistant in the sickroom. Having de
termined upon a course of action, she
was rising to execute it when a hand
was laid upon her shoulder and a voice
said;
"You may go now; I’ll take care of
him.”
Looking up, she recognized her mother,
who had departed this life some twenty
years before Mrs. Cosby had no feeling
of fear, nor did she note the length of
time the vision remained, for at that
moment her brother sat upright and call
ed to her to support him. As she folded
her arms about him his head fell upon
her shoulder and he grew suddenly very
heavy. She spoke to him, but received no
answer. Calling General Cosby from the
next room, they raised his head and found
that he had in truth passed to the loving
care of his mother.
SARAH JOHNSON HAGAN.
^ Tristram of Blent ^
CONTINUED FROM FIRST PAGE
Horn* Occupied by the Mother of the !,*«• Word M’Allis ter, in
Sevenneh, Ga
a few Instances of so-called spirit mani
festation. vouched for by those of un
questioned moral and intellectual stand
ing.
Tbe M’Allister Ghost
In Savannah, Ga., next to the old homo
of the late General Henry R. Jackson, at
one time minister to Austria ami also
to Mexico, stands the house formerly
cwned and occupied by the mother of the
late Ward McAllister, of New York.
The story runs that after Mrs. McAllis
ter removed her residence from Savan
nah to live with her sen in New York
111 health assailed her. which finally re-
suited in her death. Her loas was great
ly mourned, and as the entire family
were residing in New York, her body was
laid to rest in that state.
General Jackson, fearing undesirable
neighbors and wishing to control the sit
uation. purchased the McAllister resi
dence. It was rented to a number of
families, but invariably vacated before
the expiration of their stipulated term.
This continued for quite a length of
time until It was permanently occupied
by Mrs. Charles Marshall, a cousin of
General Jacl sen.
Mrs. Pope Barrow, wife of ex-Senator
Barrow and daughter of General Jack-
son. a woman of noted poise cf charac
ter as well as mental strength, called to
see her coisin, Mrs. Marshall, who was
111 at the time. Finding the front door
ajar, she entered unannounced, closing it
behind he-. On ascending the stairway
to her cousin's cfcaml er, she beneld an
elderly lady dressed in black, with a key
basket in hand, slowly descending from
the floor above.
As they met midway the stair, Mrs.
Barrow stepped aside to give room, ray-
ins as she did so, "Good morning.” Th9
old lady bowed in response and passed in
dignified silence to the front door. Find
ing it closed, she made several futile ef
forts to open it. Hearing the noise made
by the lock, Mrs. Barrow quickly re
traced her steps, saying. “Wait, madam,
I will open the door for you.” As she
placed her hand upon the knob the old
lady vanished. Returning home, Mrs.
Barrow repeated the strange adventure
end learned that many people had seen
the same dignified lady walking about
the house.
Superstitious persons repeated the say
ings of the negroes, which were: "Dat
Miss Mercallster dun gone up yonder ter
de north an’ die, but she ain’ gwine res’
in no place 'ceptin' in Servanner, an' she
gwine walk plum tell dey brings her
home ergin.’’
The Identity of the apparition will not
be vouched for. but certain it is Mrs.
Barrow saw and spoke to what appiared
to be a disembodied spirit.
Mrs CUy«Clopton’t Experience
Mrs. Clement Clay-Clopton. of Hunts
ville, Ala., had often discussed with her
husband the possibilities of spiritism and
always the conclusion was, “There is
nothing in it." Still they promised each
other if such a thing were possible that
the one who died first should return and
communicate with the other. The sen
ator was first taken.
Mrs. Clay-Clopton’s masculine Intel
lect places her far above the charge of
being superstitious, and even now she
affirms that she does not believe in
spiritism , but cannot account for the
following:
About three months after her husband’s
death Ms. Clay-Clopton was sitting in a
room across from his library, when a
faint sound distracted her from the book
she was reading. Looking up she be
held the senator standing in the doorway,
distinctly heard coming up the stair
way. With an uncanny shiver she ex
claimed. "Great God. Lawson Clay’s foot
step!” Nearer came the sound of his
peculiar, halting footfall until her cham
ber door was reached, when the step
ceased, and his gentle voice called, "Sis
ter!"
Again the feeling overcame her that he,
too, longed to converse, but feared to
frighten her.
Just here it will bear repetition to say
Mrs. Clay-Clopton does not believe in
spiritism.
Ghost of x “Mammy”
In Athens, Ga.. stands the old “John
Cobb" home, a stately colonial mansion
whose pillared colonades once overlooked
spacious and beautiful terraced grounds.
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n. h. sunn t. r. n, twtmh t«*l
t *. UttMME, fcP.miT.*, aws, U
remained, the real battle had still to be
fought. It was with heartfelt sincerity
that he muttered, as he sought for pipe
and tobacco,
“I wish I’d drowned the beggar in the
pool!"
if
* CHAPTER SIX *
Tlx* Attraction of It
Mr. Jenkinson Neeld 3at at lunch at the
Imperium Club, quite happy with a neck
chop, last week’s Athenaeum and a pint
of aipollinaris. To him enter disturbers
of peace.
“How are you, Neeld?" said Lord
Southend, taking the chair next him, “Sit
down here, Iver. Let me introduce you—
Mr. Iver. Mr. Neeld. Bill of fare, waiter.”
His lordship smiled rather maliciously at
Mr. Neeld as he made the introduction
which Iver acknowledged with bluff
courtesy. Neeld with a timid little bow.
“How are things down your way?" pur
sued Southend, addressing Iver. “Lady
Tristram’s very 111, I hear?”
“I’m afraid so.”
"Wonderful woman, that, you know.
You ought to have seen her in the
seventies—when she ran away with Ran
dolph Edge—” .
A gentleman two tables off looked
round.
“Hush. Southend! That’s his brother,”
whiskered Mr. Neeld.
"Whose brother?” demanded South-
end.
“That's Wilmot Edge*—Sir Randolph's
brother. ”
“O, the decuce It is. I thought he'd
been pilled.”
Blackballs also were an embarrassing
subject Neeld sipped his apollinarls ner
vously.
"Well, as I was saying (Lord Southend
spoke a little lower), she went straight
from the duchess of Slough's ball to th.e
station—as she was, in a low gown and a
scarlet opera cloak—met Edge, whose
wife had only been dead three months,
and went off with him. You know the
rest of the story. It was a near run for
young Harry Tristram! How is the boy,
Iver?”
“The boy’s very much of a man, in-
ded; we don’t talk about the near run
before him.”
Southend laughed. "A miss Is as good
as a mile,” he said, “eh, Neeld? I’d like
to see Annie Tristram again—though I
suppose she's a wreck, poor thing”
"Why couldn’t she marry the man prop
erly, Instead of bolting?” asked Iver. He
did not approve of such escapades.
“O, he had to bolt anyhow—a thorough
bad lot—debts, you known—her people
wouldn’t hear of it—besides she was en
gaged to Fred Nares. So all together it
was easier to cut and run. Besides, she
liked the sort of thing, don’t you know?
Romantic and all that. Then Edge van
ished and the other man appeared. That
turned out all light, but she ran it fine.
Eh. Neeld?”
Mr. Neeld was sadly flustered by these
recurring references to him. He had no
wish to pose as an authority on the sub
ject. Josiah Cholderton’s diary put him
in a difficulty. He wished to goodness
he had been left to the peaceful delights
of literary Journalism.
“Well, if you'll come down to my place.
I can promise to show you Harry Tris
tram, and you can go over and see his
mother if she’s better.
“By Jove, I'm half a mind to. Very
kind of you. Iver; you’ve got a fine
place. I hear.”
“I’ve built so many houses for other
people that I may be allowed one for
myself, mayn't I? We’re proud of our
neighborhood,” he pursued, politely ad
dressing himself to Mr. Neeld. “If you’re
ever that way, I hope you'll look me un.
I shall be delighted to welcome a fellow-
member of the Imperium.”
A short chuckle escaped from Lord
Southend’s lips: he covered it by an ex
aggerated devotion to his broiled kid
neys. Mr. Neeld turned pink and mur
mured incoherent thanks; he felt like a
traitor.
“Yes. we see a good deal of young
Harry."-said Iver. with a smile. “And of
other young fellows about the place, too.
They don’t come to see me. though. I
expect Janie’s the attraction. You re
member my girl»South ?nd?"
“We'l. I suppose Blent’s worth $!>,000 or
*10.000 a year still?” The progress of
Lcrd Southend's thoughts was obvious.
•■H’m. Seven or eight. I should think,
as it’s managed now. It's a nice place,
though, and would go a good bit better
in proper hands;”
“Paterfamilias considering?”
"I don’t quite make the young fellow
out. He's got a good opinion of himself,
I fpney.” Iver laughed a little. "Well,
we shall see.” he ended.
“Not a bad thing to be Lady Tristram
or Blent, you know. Iver. That's none of
your pinchbeck. The real thing—though.
as I say, young Harry's only got it by
the skin of his teeth. Eh, Neeld?”
Mr. Neeld laid down his napkin and
pushed back his chair.
“Sit still, man. We’ve nearly finished,
and we’ll all have a cup of coffee to
gether and a cigar.”
Happily in the smoking room the talk
shifted to less embarrassing subjects.
Iver told of his life and doings and Neeld
found himself drawn to the man; he lis
tened with interest and appreciation; he
seemed brought into touch with life; he
caught himself sighing over the retired
inactive nature of his own occupations.
He forgave Iver the hoardings about the
streets; he could not forgive himself the
revenge he had taken for them. Iver
and Southend spoke of big schemes in
which they had been or were engaged to
gether, legitimate enterprises, good for
the nation as well as for themselves.
How had he, a useless old fogy, dared to
blackmail a man like Tver? An occasional
droll glance from Southend emphasized
his compunction.
“I see you’ve got a new thing coming
out. Neeld,” said Southend, after a pause
in the talk. “I remember old Cholder-
ton very well. He was a starchy old
chap, but he knew his subjects. Makes
rather heavy reading, I should think,
eh?”
“Not a bit of it, not by any means all
of it," Neeld, assured him. “He doesn’t
confine himself to business matters.”
“Still, even old Joe Cholderton’s recrea
tions—’’
"He was certainly mainly an observer,
but he saw some interesting things and
people.” There was a renewed touch of
nervousness in Mr. Neeid’s manner.
"Interesting people? H’m. Then I hope
he’s discreet?"
"Or that Mr. Neeld would be discreet
for him,” Iver nut in. "Though I don’t
know why interesting people are sup
posed to create a need for discretion.”
"Oh. yes you do, Iver. You know the
world. Don’t you be too discreet, Neeld.
\jive us a taste of Joe’s lighter style.”
Neeld did not quite approve of his de
ceased and respected friend being re
ferred to as “Joe,” nor did he desire to
discuss in that company what he had
and what he had not suppressed in the
Journal.
"I have used the best of my judgment,”
he. said primly, and was surprised to find
Iver smiling at him with an amused ap
proval.
•'The least likely men break out,” Lord
Southend pursued hopefully. "The Bap
tist minister down at my place once way
laid the wife of the chairman of quarter
sessions and asked her to run away with
him.”
"That's one of your Nonconformist
stories, Southend. I never believe them,”
said Iver.
"Oh, I am not saying anything. She was
a pretty woman. I just gave it as an
illustration. I happen to know it’s true
because she told me herself.”
“Ah, I’d begin to listen if he'd told
you,” was Ivor’s cautious comnent.
“You give us the whole of old Joe
Cholderton,” was Lord Southend's final
injunction.
"Imagine if I did!" thought Neeld, be
ginning to feel some of the joy of hold
ing a secret.
Presently Southend took his leave, say
ing he had an engagement. To his own
surprise. Neeld did not feel this to be
an unwarrantable proceeding. He sat on
with Tver, and found himself cunningly
encouraging his companion to talk again
about the Tristrams. Iver described
Blent for him. He told him how Lady
Tristram had looked, and that her illness
was su-nosed to be fatal. He talked again
of Harry Tristram, her destined succes
sor. But he said no more of his daugh
ter. Neeld was left without any clear
idea that his companion’s concern with
the Tristrams was more than that of a
neighbor, or beyond what an ancient
family, with odd episodes in its history,
might naturally inspire.
”Oh. you must come to Blentsmouth, Mr.
Neeld. You must, indeed. For a fe.w
days, now. Choose your time, only
let It be soon. Why, If you made your
way into the library at Blent you might
happen on a find there. A lot of inter
esting stuff there, I'm told. And we
shall be verv grateful for a visit.”
Iver rose and held out his hand. "I
must go,” he said. "Fairholme, Blent-
mouth! I hope I shall have a letter from
you soon to tell us to look out for you.”
One of the unexpected likings that
occur between people had happened.
Each man felt it and recognized it in the
other. They were alone in the room for
the moment. _
"Mr. Iver ” said Neeld In «is precise
prim tones, "I must <make a confession
to vou. When you were up for this
club I—my vote was not in your favor.”
During a minute's silence Iver looked
at him with amusement and almost with
affection.
“I’m Vlad you've told me that.”
"Well, I’m glad I have, too." Neeid’s
laugh was nervous.
"Because It shows that you’re think
ing of coming to Blentmouth.”
"Well—yes, I am.” answered Neeld,
smiling. And they shook hands. Here
was the beginning of a friendship;
here also Neeid’s entry on the scene
where Harry Tristram’s fortunes formed
the subject of the play.
To be Continued
RINGS IN HER NAILS
THE average girl is satisfied to adorn
* her fingers with rings. They are a
very old and well established form of
ornament and they have for a long time
answered the purpose. In fact, finger
rings have by many been considered quite
sufficient, although the custom of wear
ing thumb rings is by no means monop
olized by Sarah Bernhardt and the an
cients.
But it was for a variety actress to find
a new way of displaying Jewels on the
hand.
Not onlv has the fair Titania rings on
her thumb and three of her fingers, but
she has also a big jewel moored by
chains to the center of the back of her
hand and a diamond earring hung frorn
every nail. In order that holes may be
bored in the tips of her finger nails to ac
commodate the sparklers, she has to
wear her nails very long—so long as to be
quite Inconvenient, one would think. You
know that the distinguished Chinese who
wear long nails as a sign of elegance are
very helpless people, having to carry the
distinguished hand about upon a cushion.
With the dancer it is as bad; the adorned
hand is as good as helpless.
A professional manicure attends to the
care of the hand. The nails are daily
treated in a way to toughen them; a
chemical preparation does the work. The
boring of the holes is a matter where
skilled labor is needed; it would be an
easy matter for a clumsy manicure to
break the nail which had been tended so
carefully and brought to the length re
quired.
It Is said that one of the rings—nail
rings, they should no doubt be called—
once caught in a door as it was being
shut. The door had a spring lock and the
nearest key to the lock was a mile away.
A friend of the actress started to assist
her by cutting the nail, for time was
precious and there was a train to be
caugnt. But the lady stopped him by ut
tering piercing screams. “I will lose my
train,” she cried, “but never my nail.”
And she sent for the Key, waiting a pris
oner until it came, and in the end missing
her tram. She had to make her next
place of engagement by riding on a
fri ght train, but she has always said
that it paid.
Snapshops at Great ^
jz? Opera tSingers
By LAWRENCE REAMER
ORE in the United States
M 'i than anywhere else does
4 the Interest of the pub-
- lie extend to the artist
off the stage. Possibly
intensity is added to
this feeling by the
knowledge that the ar
tist in public Is accessi
ble to anybody who can
pay to hear him. It is
only to the privileged
few that the grand
opera singers are re
vealed as they exist in
reality. They are, of
course, in public life
somewhat the same that
they are in private, as the traits of a per
sonality are not to be wholly concealed
any more than physical peculiarities are,
but there are always interesting points
of difference.
Jean de Reszke gives up nearly every
pleasure in life to the preservation cf his
voice during the time he is singing. Prac
tically he is a prisoner in the rooms of
his hotel for the New York season. He
sings at least twice a week and naturally
sees nobody on the day he Is to appear.
Nor does he leave the house, unless it be
to visit the physician who takes cere of
his throat. Sometimes he and his brother
take a walk, but their principal physical
exercise is confined to their rooms, where
their skill in lifting heavy weights—for
which chairs and other articles of furni
ture usually serve—astonish their friends.
Jean can tear a pack of cards in two with
out apparent exertion, and Edouard Is Just
as powerful.
Both are admirable mimics. Jean can
Imitate with irresistible humor his asso
ciates in the opera company, and enjoy
ment of this power is never diminished
by the presence of malice. Edouard stop
ped singing in concert because Jean once,
for his benefit. Imitated his manner when
he appeared on the platform in evening
dress bearing a roll of music in his white-
gloved hands. At the piano, either bleth
er can delight his hearers for hours with
imitations of the voices, manners or in
terpretation of singers. National pecu
liarities particularly appeal to Jean.
He is irresistibly comic when Imitating
the waltzing of an American college Btu-
dent he saw on the steamer, or the voca!
peculiarities of -a singer in a music hall
here and in London. It is Jean who, in
spite of his greater fame, is the more
devoted musician of the two de Reszkes.
His principal interest outside of his art
Is in his racing stable, maintained at his
home in Poland, and he takes his pleasure
in vacation chiefly out of this feature of
his country home. But he spends much
of his vacation time at the piano, study
ing roles he Is never likely to sing, re
freshing himself In his old repertoire or
trying new music that happens to come
under his notice. Edouard is. on the other
hand, much more like!}' to be found at the
billiard table. It would be hard to say
which of the two !s more popular among
their colleagues. All but the tenors are
devoted to Jean de Reszke, while even the
tasses pretend to love Edouard.
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factory or through our regular authorized agents. This is an oppor-
terest she shows to every new subject
that absorbs her. And how completely
engrossed she is in every new interest!
Three years ago she decided to ask to her
country home a certain number of poor
young girls every summer. Sometlmea
during the continuance of this whim—if
any feeling so strong as Mile. Calve’a
usually are may be described by that
word—she entertained as many as thirty
or forty young women. Even in provin
cial France such hospitality is expensive,
and Mile. Calve, although she receives a
large salary. Is so frequently compelled
to disappoint audiences that her Income
is not so great as that of some of the
other singers. So she was economical-
more economical than ever that she might
have her guests in the summer months.
*
Mile. Calve’s personal wants are few,
and her expenditures on her living prob
ably are smaller than those of any other
-great singer. While most of them live
in more or less luxurious apartments,
Mile. Calve confines her accommodation
to what she needs. During her last sea
son in New York she occupied one room
In an apartment hotel. She has always
says that she does not feel the need of
greater luxury, and during much of her
time here even dispensed with the ser
vices of a maid. That was in a large de
gree due to the capriciousness of her tem
perament, which is as completely in ac
cord with her appearance and conduct on
the stage as well could he. She is as
intense In her emotions, being possessed
wholly by them for the moment, as vari
able, and always interesting in private
life as on the stage. Before her mind
was absorbed In her scheme for enter
taining and restoring to health poor
working girls, she was so much engrossed
in the powers of a certain clairvoyant
in Paris that the woman practically con
trolled her entire course'of life. Mile.
Calve bought a house, in Paris. The
clairvoyant told her she would die if she
remained in it. The singer sold it within
a month at a price much smaller than
she had paid for it. Mile. Calve accept
ed an offer to sing at Covent Garden In
London several times. The clairvoyant
told her that the boat would be wrecked
while crossing the channel, and Mille.
Calve immediately telegraphed to Lon
don that she could not, under any cir
cumstances, keep her engagement. This
same clairvoyant who, for a short while
played such an active part in Mile.
Calve’s life, not long ago took to prophe-
cying so many calamities for prominent
French government officers that she was
silenced by the police. Mile. Calve’s
career has not lasted nearly twejity years,
aB she began to sing in the first year of
the eighties at Brussels.
*
As Interesting in quite a different way
as the famous Carmen is Milka Ternina.
who has been the dominating figure
among the women at the Metropolitan
opera house this year. Mile. Ternina has
the same right to the title that the
French singer possesses. Her'second year
on the stage was passed at Bremen,
where Anton Seidl was conductor. So the
soprano learned her Wagner traditions
under the last of th« masters who could
impart them with the authority that came
from personal association with the great
composer. Mile. Ternina is noted among
her associates for the modesty and un
pretentiousness of her conduct. She never
exhibits to them the least evidence of
knowledge that she has become within the
past three years the most noted Wag
nerian singer of the world. There neyetL_
was a prima donna who gave h'ss evi
dence of possessing the traits commonly
attributed to the class. Mile. Ternina
attends rehearsals with the assiduity of a
beginner, and more than any other singer
since Lilli Lehmann, thinks not onlv of
herself, but of the general effect for
which all the artists in a performance are
struggling. That used to De called the
French of Paris. More than any of the German spirit until American audiences
Albert Saleza, who spelt his name with
a final "R” before he became a famous
tenar, has seven brothers who sing, and
at least one of them has a better voice,
according to ’.he tenor’s stcry, than he
himself. But this brother is so unmusi
cal by nature that he has never been able
to make use of his gift. Albert had lived
in Bruges, in the lower Pyrenees, until
he reached the age of twenty, and had
never thought that an operatic career
lay before him, or even that he had a
voice good enough to make anything of
the kind possible A friend volunteered
to pay for his musical education if he
wanted to go to Paris to study. He ac
cepted the offer, and when he went to
Paris spoke the patois of his own land
so persistently that he had to study the
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other singers of renown today, is he
child of nature. He insists, in New York,
that the place in which he dwells shall
be flooded with sunlight. It may have
other characteristics, but the sun must
shine through the windows. Persons have
seen him on the streets standing perfectly
still or walking backward and forward
witnin a small space. They may have
wondered at this performance. But his
friends know that he is enjoying the
sunlight that happens to fall with especial
warmth on some particular spot.
*
Mme. Marcella Sembrlch has been
called a plump compendium of music, and
that phrase describes fairly enough the
musical temperament of this great singer.
Her whole life has been devoted to mu
sic, and she might have become famous
in two other branches had she not elected
to become a singer. At the age of ten
years she had already mastered the vio
lin and had occasionally appeared in pub
lic as a youthful phenomenon of the
piano-forte. When she discovered her
voice and the professors told her that
she might some day be the successor of
the great Patti, it was her musical ge
nius that helped her on, for Mme. Sem-
brich in reality spent less than two years
in actual study with a singing teacher.
Jean de 'Reszke’s instruction did not con
tinue much longer. What she subse
quently acquired came from her own
work. Mme. Sembrich now spends half
her leisure time at the piano. Music is
not only her profession, but her diver
sion. She is frequently alone, and at
these times she is always to he found
at the piano. In the Conservatory of Mu
sic at St. Petersburg there is a scholar
ship called after her. This was founded
on the receiors from a concert that Mm .
Sembrlch gave five years ago. The pro
gramme held twelve numbers. Four were
piano numbers and the others were di
vided between the violin and the voice.
Mire. Sembrich was the only performer.
Since that time she has never touched
the violin in public, and rarely plays at
all, although her Instrument a rare
Amati is kept always in condition. Mme.
Sembrlch shuns the social attentions paid
to celebrities, accepting them only when
she must. Her first advice to every stu
dent of singing who comes to her is to
learn some instrument well, as that
Knowledge Is of the greatest assistance
to a singer. She has sung now since
1S81 and unlike many other great sing
ers ’ served no obscure apprenticesnip. She
was famous all over the world after she
had been heard for a year in Dresden.
She is now forty-three and is at tne
height of her powers.
*
Mile Emma Calve is particular about the
title prefixed to her name, because she
is almost the only woman among artists
of her class who has never been married.
She likes to have that fact impressed on
the public by being called “Mile- She
has been in bad health for two years.
She has become interested in the teach
ings of Buddhism and determined that a
pilgrimage to India would do more than
anything else to restore her health. Doc
tors told her that a certain course of
treatment was all that could help her.
The singer did not intend to submit to
that treatment and decided to go to India
with a party of friends and a Buddhist
priest. She may have found there the
relief she was seeking, and if that was
to be had from devotion to the eastern
philosophers, the singer must have ac
complished her purpose. She began the
study of them with the enthusiastic in-
learned that it existed in all artistic per
formances of opera whatever the nation
ality of the singer might be. Mile. Ter
nina is always accompanied by her aunt,
a venerable dame, with white hair, who
carries herself with sufficient dignity to
give color to the storv that her husband
was a man of such position In his own
country that she is entitled to call herself
’"Excellency!.” Mile. Ternina shows in
her serious expression (wnich in private
life sometimes amounts to a frown) the
dignified bearing and earnest manner
which have made her stage career what
It is. She is not beautiful, but everybody
who meets her feels the influence of a
dominating personality.
Seriousness seems to be a trait of tha
Wagnerian prima donna. Lilli Lehmann
never possessed the least sense of humor,
although her mental equipment was un
usual for a woman in her profession.
Mme. Nordica has this determination
that is shared by her colleagues In the
Wagnerian field. She won her way
through the resolution not to be left
among the mediocrities of her profession,
and she emerged brilliantly after years
of disappointment. She is the American
singer who will probably be ranked for
some years as the best that the nation
has known. She is a student and devotes
much of her time to developing the roles
in which she has frequently been heard.
She goes through every role she sings the
day before the performance, and fre
quently renews her acquaintance with
operas that she has not sung for years.
She is more devoted to the social pleas
ures that come to all of the singers than
some of her colleagues, and goes to many
of the entertainments in the round of
New York’s winter galties.
*
In that particular she Is like Mme. Mel
ba, who is a much sought after person in
London society, and has more friends
among the exclusive members of the
stockholders of the Metropolitan than
any other singer. Outside of the theater
her time is chiefly spent in society. She
has a house in London, where she passes
part of every year, and many friends
among persons of title. Lady de Grey,
who Is practically the power that controls
the opera house in London, is her inti
mate friend, and this circle of distin
guished acquaintances has not interfer
ed with her popularity In a certain set of
New York society. Mme. Melba is known
among her colleagues as exacting to the
last degree in regard to the respect due
to a great prima donna. But she is gen
erous and extravagantly liberal to those
persons with whom she comes into con
tact outside of her profession. She is us
ually acompanied by her sister wherever
she goes. Her son, who is now a well
grown youth, was at a military school in
England, but has recently been living
with his father in one of the far western
states. Mme. Melba, unlike most of the
opera singers, did not take to her pro
fession in her girlhood. She was a mar
ried woman and a mother when she went
from Australia fourteen years ago. She
has not returned to Melbourne since she
became famous as a singer, and is a
Londoner so far as any artist is other
than cosmopolitan. Mme. Melba is unlike
many singers in another particular. She
was not born in poverty, but passed her
early life in comfort, if in obscurity. She
is an excellent musician and played the
organ in a Melbourne church before she
decided to become an opera singer.