produced by the great pioneers of the highest of the arts. And yet,
in that same Russia, any nonsense whatever that came out of Italy, got
immediate hearing and sickening praise. The opera-houses of every city
were given over, during the season, to Italian troupes. And if these did
occasionally consent to perform some native work, it was always on an
"off" night, with third-rate members of the company, in cast-off,
inappropriate costumes, surrounded by worn-out scenery, and accompanied
by the "ballet" orchestra--which contained about half the regulation
instruments.

Most of these humiliations, it soon appeared, were to fall to the lot of
the unfortunate "Boyar."--Still, New Year's night usually promised a
good-sized audience; and the chorus was actually to be put into newly
designed costumes. But the singers had considered, long ago, that plans
for the winter were finished. Therefore this was a preposterous time to
begin rehearsals for a work entirely new. The prima-donna and the first
tenor simply scouted the idea of applying themselves to learn new
roles--and in a _Russian_ opera! Merelli must be out of his head to set
about such a thing!--Ivan, it is true, might have been encouraged had he
heard the opinion of his work expressed by Merelli to his refractory
singers.--It was a masterpiece; the finest opera, be it Italian, French
or Russian, of the decade! etc, etc.--And indeed, had the _impresario_
not actually believed something of this sort, no pleadings of Rubinstein
would ever have got it accepted at this time of year. But the parts as
they were finally cast might well have discouraged a man more tranquil
and more experienced than Ivan: who, moreover, would have regarded as
insane the person telling him that, in his secret heart, more than one
member of the troupe beside Merelli thought the opera under preparation
far ahead of the usual run of saccharine Italian concoctions habitually
raved over by the sentimental world of the time.

But alas! What wretchedness it was to listen, day by day, from his empty
box, to the throaty warblings of Finocchi--whose pronunciation of
Russian was as near Chinese or Hebrew as the Slavic tongue: to argue
vainly with La Menschikov, the soprano, who, to Ivan's unbounded
disgust, used every vocal trick invented by the melodramatic Italians,
from a revolting _tremolo_, and a barefaced _falsetto_ to an
incorrigible persistence in the _appoggiatura_, an affectation
peculiarly unadapt