196.—THE DISCOVERY OF A TENOR.
The tenor is always the rara avis. He is hard to find, he is harder to train, and if we may except the prima donna, he is hardest to control. No wonder, then, that operatic managers have to start out on tenor-hunting expeditions and are supremely happy if they capture a good specimen of the bird.
In 1820, Count Palffy, the manager of the Vienna Opera, was at his wits' end for a good tenor. So he set out with Salieri, the composer and conductor, to scour the country round, seeking for the voice the latter wished for his last new opera. After chasing down several rumors of wonderful voices, tired and disgusted, they sought the comfort of a village inn. It was a holy day, and the peasants were passing in procession from one shrine to another, singing as they went, the most of them making more noise than music—if the truth be told.
Suddenly Salieri jumped up, rushed out into the crowd and caught one awkward country youth by the arm, commanding him to "Sing, Sing!" The fellow did so, and his tones were full, free, and of wonderful musical quality. But alas! his appearance! Bullet-headed, short, thin, ugly-featured, and—bow-legged! But Salieri cared nothing for his appearance. He declared his legs had nothing to do with his singing, and leading him back to the inn the composer threw open the piano and begged the tenor to begin. He chose an Italian aria, and as the last sounds of a high C died away his listeners warmly encored him, for the long sought-for man was found.
"What is your name?"
"Anton Haizinger."
"And your occupation?"
"Under school teacher."
"Your salary is yearly?"
"One hundred gulden and free lodgings."
"Ye gods! and you have thousands lying in your throat! I engage you immediately for the Royal Opera."
The look of joy which had filled the eyes of the amazed singer died away as, after a moment's hesitation, he replied: "It is impossible; I can't leave here." "Why not, you young fool?" cried Salieri. "I cannot; if I go away from Willersdorf I—I must leave Lise—and—" answered the blushing lover. "Ha, ha!" laughed the count. "Well, my man, I will give you lessons free and a hundred gulden a month the first year and after that double the amount, so you had better let Lise wait a couple of years." "It—no," murmured the amorous swain, "she would marry the miller's son, and I can't go—I won't go," and with a hasty bow he made his departure.
Palffy felt himself outraged, but the wily Italian only laughed and said: "Have him removed to Vienna; the fatal charmer will be faithless, we will accidentally meet him, and he will then gladly accept your offer."
Now, the office of school teacher in Austria is held by governmental appointment. Palffy knew how to pull the wires and some months later found the unsuspecting tenor in Vienna. 'Twas not long ere his beloved Lise verified his darkest forebodings, and found a handsomer man; yielding to the entreaties of Salieri, who had chanced (?) across him, Haizinger sought solace for his wounded heart in the divine art. A year passed and scarlet posters announced the debut of this wonderful tenor. He was to appear as "Tamino" in the "Magic Flute," and far and near had been spread the predictions of his wonderful success.
A great crowd had gathered to hear the new tenor. Haizinger was so affected by stage fright that he had to be flung onto the stage by the manager when the time came for his appearance. He was awkward, and even his wonderful voice seemed to have failed him. But later in the evening his self-assurance returned and his singing was rapturously applauded. From that time on his success was assured; and for thirty years he held sway as one of the foremost tenors of all Europe.