r generation. Her
Mignon was successful in a measure, perhaps not an entirely credible
figure. Her Nedda was very good.

[Illustration: GERALDINE FARRAR AS LOUISE IN _JULIEN_

_from a photograph by White (1914)_]

Her Louise in _Julien_ was so fine dramatically, especially in the
Montmartre episode, as to make one wish that she could sing the real
Louise in the opera of that name. Once, however, at a performance of
Charpentier's earlier work at the Manhattan Opera House, she told me
that she would never, never do so. She has been known to change her
mind. Her Ariane, I think, was her most complete failure. It is a part
which requires plasticity and nobility of gesture and interpretation of
a kind with which her style is utterly at variance. And yet I doubt if
Mme. Farrar had ever sung a part to which she had given more
consideration. It was for this opera, in fact, that she worked out a
special method of vocal speech, half-sung, half-spoken, which enabled
her to deliver the text more clearly.

Whether Mme. Farrar will undergo further artistic development I very
much doubt. She tells us in her autobiography that she can study
nothing in any systematic way, and it is only through very sincere study
and submission to well-intended restraint that she might develop still
further into the artist who might conceivably leave a more considerable
imprint on the music drama of her time. It is to be doubted if Mme.
Farrar cares for these supreme laurels; her success with her
public--which is pretty much all the public--is so complete in its way
that she may be entirely satisfied with that by no means to be despised
triumph. Once (in 1910) she gave an indication to me that this might be
so, in the following words:

"Emma Calve was frequently harshly criticized, but when she sang the
opera house was crowded. It was because she gave her personality to the
public. Very frequently there are singers who give most excellent
interpretations, who are highly praised, and whom nobody goes to see.
Now in the last analysis there are two things which I do. I try to be
true to myself and my own conception of the dramatic fitness of things
on the stage, and I try to please my audiences. To do that you must
mercilessly reveal your personality. There is no other way. In my humble
way I am an actress who happens to be appearing in opera. I sacrifice
tonal beauty to dramatic fitness every time I think it is necessary for
an effect, and I shall c