ractice which has been preserved in English audiences to this
day during the singing of this mightiest of all musical choruses. Mme.
Mara gave great offense by remaining seated.

Shortly afterward she sang at a musical festival of Oxford University,
whither the report of her supposed bad temper and intractability had
preceded her. The gownsmen were as riotous then as now; and as one or
two things happened to irritate their lively temper, a row soon became
imminent. Mara got angry and flung a book at the head of one of the
orchestra, when Dr. Chapman, the Vice-Chancellor, arose and said that
Mme. Mara had conducted herself too ill to be allowed to sing before
such an audience. Instantly a wicked wag cried out, "A riot, by
permission of the Vice-Chancellor!" A scene of the utmost confusion
ensued, and the agitated cantatrice quitted the theatre, amid hisses and
yells, in high dudgeon. A deputation of gentlemen waited upon her, and
promised that she should do exactly as she pleased if she would only
return. She did return, and sang the airs allotted to her, but remained
seated as usual while the choruses were being sung. A cry arose of "Turn
Mara out!" Not comprehending, she smiled, which provoked the audience
still more; upon which the Vice-Chancellor said that it was always the
rule for every vocalist to join in the choruses. Miss George, one of the
singers, explained this to the prima donna, who, staring in bewilderment
and vexation, exclaimed, "Oh! me does not know his rules; me vill go
home"; which resolution she immediately carried into effect.

This great singer's numerous quarrels and controversies in England were
very amusing. Yet, in spite of the personal bitterness growing out of
her own irritable temper and professional rivalry, she remained a great
artistic favorite with the public. Underneath the asperity and obstinacy
of her character there was a vein of deep tenderness and generosity,
which she showed in various cases, especially in forwarding the
interests of struggling artists. Michael Kelly, the Irish composer, in
his "Reminiscences," gives the following instance. He himself, then a
young man, had aroused Mara's dislike by some inadvertent praise of
a rival. Watching his opportunity, he brought into the greenroom
one night, when she came off the stage fatigued and panting with her
efforts, a pot of foaming porter, which she drank with a sigh of deepest
pleasure. Touched by the young Irishman's thoughtful