Anecdotes of Great Musicians/Anecdote 11
11.—IRISH ENTHUSIASM.
On the last night of her series of performances at Dublin, in 1868, Mdlle. Titiens was the recipient of such an ovation as is seldom given even to those petted beings, operatic prime donne.
At the close of the aria, "Ocean, Thou Mighty Monster," in Weber's "Oberon," the audience rose en masse, some calling for a repetition and others for favorite Irish songs. The uproar continued for ten or fifteen minutes before quiet could be restored, and then the diva decided to sing the favorite, "Last Rose of Summer." But the orchestra had no music for the song and a further delay ensued. Finally, Signor Bettini was seen pushing a small piano out on the stage, and meanwhile Titiens assisted the conductor to climb up out of the orchestra. In turning the piano around the slant of the stage caused it to tip over. Now, behind the wings were the rest of the company waiting to go on with the next scene. Among them were several attired as demons. On the upsetting of the piano out rushed half a dozen devils to set things straight—an unusual occupation for the satanic brood.
Again silence was secured, and this time Titiens finished her song. At its close the uproarious applause was again indulged in.
But after the opera came the climax. The crowd of students who had filled the gallery hastened to the stage entrance, cut the traces of her carriage, and tied in their places two long ropes. These were grasped by two files of shouting students. The prima donna entered her carriage and was in this way escorted down the street, the crowd continually being augmented by new arrivals. Several had supplied themselves with fireworks, and the whole thing had the effect of a triumphal procession.
When the strings of volunteer horses arrived at a corner, owing to there being no agreement concerning the route, one set turned one way, and the other in an opposite direction. The result was that the carriage containing Titiens, and her escorts came to a sudden and forcible stop against a building. But after some parley both teams agreed to unite on the same direction.
When, finally, they arrived at her hotel the enthusiastic students threw their coats on the pavement from the carriage to the doorway, over which the diva passed to her rooms. The crowd remained around the hotel for over an hour, making continual calls for a song, and their numbers were so great that the police were unable to disperse them.
Though Titiens darkened her rooms to give the impression that she had gone to bed, still they remained.
Finally a police official came up and said that unless Madame would assist in dispersing the crowd the consequences might be disastrous. So Titiens consented to try. She went to her window and motioned for silence. Then, addressing the crowd, she said:—
"I will sing you the 'Last Rose of Summer' providing you will promise to go home at once and be as quiet as mice."
Then, a second time for that evening, did she sing the old song; and, to the surprise of the people in the hotel, the mob melted away like magic, without another sound.
The police official declared that if ever a mob broke out in Ireland he should send for Mdlle. Titiens as the person who would most probably be successful in quelling it. The manager, Colonel Mapleson, and the prima donna had to pay well for the enthusiasm of their admirers, for the jolly Irishmen forgot to return the horses they took from the carriage, and the owner sent the bill to the manager.