Scan 26
Musical Courier 1901-01-23: Vol 42 Iss 1087, 1901
96 lines. Read by computer on 21 September 2026. Printed page 27. See the scan on archive.org.
1Magda, in correct cap and apron, fetched his card to her mistress.
3"Show him in here, Magda; and, Magda"—there were languid intonations in the voice of this vigorous woman—"light only the lamp with the green globe."
5In the fast disappearing daylight Tekla peeped at herself in a rhomboid crystal mirror, and saw her house frock, voluminously becoming, and her golden hair set well over her brow; she believed in the eternal charm of fluffiness. After the lamp was ready the visitor came in. He was a very tall, rather emaciated looking blond young man, whose springy step and clear eyes belied any hint of ill health. As he entered, the gaze of the two met in the veiled light of the green globed lamp, and the fire flickered high on the gas log hearth. He hesitated with engaging modesty—then Tekla, holding out a hand, moved in a large, curved way to meet him.
7"Delighted, I am sure, my dear Herr Viznina, to know you! How good of you to call, on such a day, to see a bored woman." He bowed, smiled, showing strong white teeth under his boyish moustache, and sat down on the low seat near her divan.
9"Madame," he answered in Slavonic accented English, "I am happy to make your acquaintance and hope to meet your husband, M. Calcraft." She turned her head impatiently. "I only hope that his notice will not discourage you for 'Tristan' to-morrow night. But Mr. Calcraft is really a kind man, even if he seems severe in print. I tell him that he always hangs his fiddle outside the door, as the Irish say; which means, my dear Herr Viznina, that he is a kinder man abroad than at home." Seeing the slightly bewildered look of her companion she added: "And so you didn't mind his being cross this morning, did you?" The tenor hesitated.
11"But he was not cross at all, Madame; I thought him very kind; for my throat was rough—you know what I mean! sick, sore; yes, it was a real sore throat that I had last night." It was her turn to look puzzled.
13"Not cross? Mr. Calcraft not severe? Dear me, what do you call it then?"
15"He said I was a great artist," rejoined the other. Tekla burst into laughter and apologized. "You have read the wrong paper, Herr Viznina, and I am glad you have. And now you must promise to stay and dine with us to-night. No, you shan't refuse! We are quite alone and you must know that, as old married folks, we are always delighted to have someone with us. I only told Mr. Calcraft this morning that we should go out to dinner if he came home alone. Don't ask for which paper he writes until you meet him. Nothing in the world could make me tell you." She was all frankness and animation, and her guest told himself that she was of a great charm. They fell into professional talk. She spoke of her husband's talents; how he had played the viola in quartet parties; of his successful lecture, "The Inutility of Wagner," and his preference in music.
17"But if he does not care for Wagner he must be a Brahmsianer." The last word came out with true Viennese unction.
19"He now despises Brahms," she returned, "and thinks that he had nothing to say. Wagner is, for him, a decadent, like Liszt and the rest."
21"But the classics, Madame, what does M. Calcraft write of the classics?" demanded the singer.
23"That they are all used-up Romantics; that every musical dog has his day, and the latest composer is always the best; he voices his generation. We liked Brahms yesterday; to-day we are all for Richard Strauss and the symphonic poem."
25"We?" A quizzical inflection was in the young man's voice. She stared at him.
27"I get into the habit of using the editorial 'we.' I do it more for fun than effect. I by no means always agree with my husband. Besides, I often write criticism for Mr. Calcraft when he is away—or lecturing." She paused.
29"Then," he exclaimed, and he gazed at her tenderly, "if you like my 'Tristan' you may, perhaps, write a nice little notice. Oh, how lovely that would be!"
31The artist in him stirred the strings of her maternal lyre. "Yes, it would be lovely, but Mr. Calcraft is not lecturing to-morrow night, and I hope that——"
33The two street doors banged out a half bar of the Hunding rhythm. Calcraft was heard in the hall. A minute later he stood in the door of his wife's retreat; there was a frown upon his brow when he saw her companion, but it vanished as the two men shook hands. Viznina asked him if he spoke German; Magda beckoned to Mrs. Calcraft from the middle of the drawing room. When Tekla returned, after giving final instructions for dinner, she found critic and tenor in heated argument over Jean de Reszke's interpretation of the elder Siegfried.
35The dining room was a small salon, oak panelled, and with low ceilings. A few prints of religious subjects, after the early Italian masters, hung on the walls. The buffet was pure Renaissance. Comfortable was the room, while the oval table and soft leather chairs were provocative of appetite and conversation.
37"Very un-American," remarked the singer, as he ate his crab bisque.
39"How many American houses have you been in?" irritably asked Calcraft. Viznina admitted that he was enjoying his début.
41"I thought so." Calcraft was now as bland as a May morning, and his eyes sparkled. His wife watched Magda serve the fish and fowl, and her husband insisted upon champagne being the sole wine. The tenor looked surprised and then amused.
43"Americans love champagne, do they not? I never touch it."
45"Would you rather have claret or beer?" hastily inquired the host.
47"Neither; I must sing 'Tristan' to-morrow."
49"You singers are saints on the stage," the critic laughed. "I am old fashioned enough to believe that good wine or beer will never hurt the throat. Now, there was Karl Formes, and Niemann, the great tenor——"
51Tekla interrupted. "My dear Cal, pray don't get on one of your interminable liquid talks. Herr Viznina does not care to drink whether he is singing or not. I told him, too, that we always liked a guest at dinner, for we are such old married people."
53Calcraft watched the pair facing one another. He was in disagreeable humor because of his wife's allusion to visitors; he liked to bear the major burden of conversation, even when they were alone. If Tekla began he had to sit still and drink; there was no other alternative. She asked Viznina where he was born, where he had studied, and why he had changed his name. The answers were those of a man in love with his art. Hinweg, he explained, was his mother's name, and assumed because of the anti-Slav prejudice existing in Vienna.
55Calcraft broke in. "You say you are Bohemian, Herr Viznina? You are really as Swedish looking as Mrs. Calcraft."
57"What a Sieglinde she would make, with her beautiful blonde complexion and grand figure," returned the tenor with enthusiasm.
59Tekla sighed for the third time that day. She burned to become a Wagner singer. Had she not been a successful elocutionist in Minnesota? How this talented young artist appreciated her gift, intuitively understood her ambition. Calcraft noted that they looked enough alike to be brother and sister; tall, fair and blue eyed as they were. He laughed at the conceit.
61"You are both of the Wolfing tribe," he roared, and ordered beer of Magda. "I always drink dark beer after champagne; it settles the effervescence," he argued.
63"You can always drink beer before and after anything, Cal," said his wife, in her sarcastic, vibrant voice.
65The guest was hopelessly bored, but being a man of will he concentrated his attention upon himself, and grew more resigned. He did not pretend to understand this rough spoken critic, with his hatred of Wagner and his contradictory Teutonic tastes. Tekla, with eyes full of beaming implications, spoke:
67"I should tell you, Cal, that Herr Viznina does not know, or else has forgotten, which paper you write for; and I let him guess. He thinks you praised his Siegmund."
69"Saturday morning after the 'Tristan' performance he will know for sure," answered the critic sardonically, drinking a stein of Wurzburger.
71"You rude man. Of course he will know, and he will love you afterward." If Calcraft had been near enough she would have tapped him playfully on the arm.
73"Ah, madame, what would we poor artists do if it were not for the ladies, the kind, sweet American ladies?"
75"That's just it," cried Calcraft.
77"What an idea, Warrington Calcraft!" Tekla was thoroughly indignant. "Never since I've known you have I attempted to influence you."
79"You couldn't," said he.
81"No, not even for poor Florence Deliba, who entered into a suicidal marriage after she read your brutal notice of her début."
83"And a good thing it was for the operatic stage," chuckled the man.
85"If I write the notices of a few minor concerts I always try to follow your notions." She was out of breath, and Viznina admired her without reserve. Calcraft was becoming slow of utterance. "You women are wonders when it comes to criticism." The air darkened. Viznina looked unhappy, and Mrs. Calcraft rose. "Come, let us drink our coffee in my den, Herr Viznina. I hate shop talk." She swept out of the room, and the tenor, after a dismissal from the drowsy critic, joined her.
87"My headstrong husband doesn't care for coffee," she confessed, apologetically. "Sit down where you were before. The soft light is so becoming to you. Do you know that you have an ideal face for Tristan, and this green recalls the forest scene. Now just fancy that I am Isolde, and tell me what your thoughts and feelings are in the second act."
89Sitting beside her on the couch and watching her long fingers, milky green with opals, Viznina spoke only of himself with all the meticulous delicacy of a Wagnerian tenor, and was thoroughly happy playing the part of a tame Tristan.
91III.
93Tristan and Isolde were in the middle of their passionate symphony of flesh and spirit when Tekla was ushered to the regular Calcraft seats in the opera house. Her husband, who had been in the city all day, returned to the house late for dinner, through which meal he dozed. He then fell asleep on a couch. After dressing and waiting wearily until 9 o'clock she had a carriage called, and went to the opera alone, not forgetting, however, to bid Magda leave a case of imported beer where Mr. Calcraft could find it when he awoke.
95Rather flustered, she watched with anxious eyes the stage. Brangaene, an ugly, large person in a terra cotta cheese cloth peplum, had already warned the desperate pair beneath the trees that dawn and danger were at hand. But the lovers sang of death and love, and love and death, and their sweet, despairing imagery floated on the oily waves of orchestral passion. The eloquence became burning: Tekla had forgotten her tribulations, Calcraft and
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