Gounod and the directors of the Paris Grand Opera wished to give some special performances of Romeo et Juliette, and one of the directors, M. Gailhard, came over to England and travelled west to Craig-y-nos Castle to invite Madame Patti to go over to Paris and sing, and she kindly consented to do so. Signor Nicolini invited the late Mr. Augustus Spalding, Mr. Percy Harrison, the late Mr. N. Vert, and myself to go over to Paris and hear the performances. We four, accordingly, travelled over to Paris and stayed at the Hotel Meurice in the Rue de Rivoli. Romeo et Juliette was… more >>
Gounod and the directors of the Paris Grand Opera wished to give some special performances of Romeo et Juliette, and one of the directors, M. Gailhard, came over to England and travelled west to Craig-y-nos Castle to invite Madame Patti to go over to Paris and sing, and she kindly consented to do so. Signor Nicolini invited the late Mr. Augustus Spalding, Mr. Percy Harrison, the late Mr. N. Vert, and myself to go over to Paris and hear the performances. We four, accordingly, travelled over to Paris and stayed at the Hotel Meurice in the Rue de Rivoli. Romeo et Juliette was a brilliant success, and was sung to packed houses. Madame Patti surpassed herself as Juliette, M. Jean de Reszke was Romeo, and M. Edouard de Reszke Friar Lawrence, and the opera was well conducted by M. Taffanel, who used to play the flute in the 188 SOME GREAT PERSONALITIES orchestra Gounod only conducting the first of the four performances. We had seats in a box in one of the upper tiers that night, and for the next three performances had very good seats in the stalls. The mise-en-scene was very fine, the choruses excellent, likewise the ballet. The Ball Scene, where Juliet faints through the effect of the potion given her by Friar Lawrence in the second act, is always omitted at Covent Garden, but it was given in Paris, and altogether it was a memorable occasion. This was the first time I had seen the New Opera-house, with its grand staircase and superb joyer. The only thing which threw a kind of damper on my enjoyment was that I lost my pocket-book in the crush while trying to get my overcoat at one of the cloak-rooms connected with that part of the stalls where we sat. There were a great many other people trying to get their coats, and I felt a man pressing against me who, I suppose, was the one who stole my little book. Fortunately it contained no money, only my return-ticket to London, and, what I regretted most, a card from Gounod introducing me to Ambroise Thomas, in which he was kind enough to call me his confrere. I advertised and offered a reward, but nothing came of it.
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