CHAPTER XVIII

CAMILLE D'ARVILLE

Camille D'Arville, like Lillian Russell, Pauline Hall, and Jessie Bartlett Davis, is one of the old guard, in American light opera. She has not appeared in opera for some time, for during the season of 1899-1900 she followed the general inclination and went into vaudeville. From these appearances it was apparent that her voice was not what it had been once--and little wonder that it had failed, when one recalls how continuously that voice has been in use since the owner left her Dutch home, forswore her own name of Neeltye Dykstra, and first learned to talk a prettily accentuated English. She still had in full the power to win an audience instantly and completely. Nor had she lost to any perceptible degree her rare good looks. A little fuller in the figure, perhaps, than she was five years ago, she carried herself with the same fine grace and perfect poise which were of themselves an art.

Camille D'Arville has temperament, and she has style. It is these two qualities particularly that have brought her success so often in dashing cavalier parts, parts which require that a woman shall act either a man or a woman masquerading as a man. The modern comic opera librettist often has but one main purpose in mind, that is, to get his prima donna in tights as soon after the show begins as possible and keep her in them as long as practical. Indeed, if one were looking for a practical way to distinguish modern comic opera from extravaganza, he might find it in this matter of tights. If the leading woman represent a woman disguised as a man, she is an operatic prima donna; if, on the contrary, she be represented as a man from start to finish, she is merely principal "boy" in extravaganza.

I suppose this tendency toward tights, which is so common as to be almost a light-opera conventionality, is an outgrowth or heritage from the old-fashioned burlesque. In fact, the difference between the modern comic opera and the burlesque of thirty years ago is purely one of degree. The relation between the two is similar to that between the variety show of eight years ago and the so-called "fashionable vaudeville" of to-day. Variety has been put through what managers of the large circuits call a refining process. There is no denying that the old-style variety show in most of its components was crude, noisy, and vulgar, and that its surroundings were scarcely favorable to the development of high art. But one was always sure of finding vigor and life--plenty of both--in the old-time varieties, and there were oftentimes spontaneity and humor--rude and bucolic, perhaps, but real, just the same--which one is not sure of meeting in the latter-day entertainments so carefully prepared for the mentally delicate and sensitive.

Modern comic opera has adopted in a modified and refined form the chief characteristics--one of them the woman in tights and another of them the clown with his perfunctory low comedy--of the old-fashioned burlesque. Of course, the opera makes more pretensions than did the burlesque, and musically it is superficially superior, not necessarily more tuneful but orchestrated with more scholarly skill. Stage pageantry to-day is also much further developed, and spectacular effects are far more elaborate. The costuming is richer and more tasteful, and the women on the stage--if not actually younger and prettier--are certainly daintier and more feminine. The girlishness and natural beauty of many modern light-opera choruses are simply amazing.

If we look beneath these externals, however, we find that the comic opera of to-day is hardly an advance over the burlesque of yesterday. There was good stuff in most of the old burlesques. They had original ideas, plenty of simple dramatic action, and some genuine comedy, but it is seldom that one finds any of these three essentials in the book of the modern comic opera. Not for ten years, I am tempted to declare, has there been written a light-opera libretto with sufficient intrinsic merit to attract the public attention without the assistance of the most magnetic personalities surrounded and set forth by the most gorgeous of stage accessories.

Camille D'Arville's cavaliers--and in recent years she has not played a part that did not require male attire--are a direct heritage from the burlesque stage. When Camille D'Arville becomes a man, she makes the change from petticoats without the slightest show of self-consciousness. I heard her once termed the most modest woman in tights on the stage. That was simply an acknowledgment of her complete effacement of the personal equation. Yet her individuality was not at all diminished, her presence was inspiring, and her acting both vivacious and forceful.

Camille D'Arville was born in 1863 in the village of Oldmarck, Province of Overyseel, Holland, and came of a family that had never shown any theatrical or especial musical talent. When she was twelve years old, her voice gave promise of developing into something more than the ordinary, and she was sent to the Conservatory at Amsterdam for instruction. Here she made her first appearance in concert in 1877. Later she went to Vienna, where she received further instruction, and also made a successful appearance in a one-act operetta.

"I was a big girl fourteen or fifteen years old before I saw other lands than my own Holland," remarked Miss D'Arville, "and after I left Amsterdam I was on the Continent and in England for a long time before I returned home. I still claim Holland as my birthright, however, and I do not want to be called anything but Dutch. If I have a trace of French accent in speaking English, as some claim, it is not my fault.

"But, do you know," she continued, "if it were purely a matter of inclination, I think I should much rather be an actress than to be a singer. Of course, I love music, but what can be more gratifying than to portray the heroines of Shakespeare and other great dramatists? But my natural endowment as a singer led me toward the operatic career. In opera I prefer a strong dramatic role, a part which has only one grand song if it afford plenty of opportunity for acting.

"When did I first sing in public? Oh, I can't remember that. I appeared in concerts in Amsterdam when I was a girl, and by the time I entered my teens I took part in operatic performances given by the Conservatory pupils. Do you mean when did I make my real debut in opera? I suppose that might be said to have occurred in March, 1883, at the Strand Theatre, London, in an operetta entitled 'Cymbria, or the Magic Thimble.'"

Before this, however, Miss D'Arville had anything but a pleasant experience in London. She went there under the supposition that she had been engaged to sing in opera. The managerial promise she found to be worthless, and she had to be satisfied with a chance to earn a little money in a music hall. It was after several months of the most uncongenial toil that she finally gained recognition in "Cymbria."

"Harry Paulton was responsible for that appearance," continued Miss D'Arville. "He heard me sing, and under his tuition I learned the words of the opera and sung them before I understood their meaning. It was not long, however, before I could speak English fairly well. The Dutch, you know, are famous linguists.

"In October of the same year I created the part of Gabrielle Chevrette in 'La Vie,' an adaptation by H. B. Farnie of Offenbach's 'La Vie Parisienne.' The critics spoke very kindly of me then, but were much more generous in their praises when during the following spring I appeared as Fredegonda in a revival of M. Herve's 'Chilperic' given at the Empire Theatre. Perhaps chief among my early successes was in 'Rip Van Winkle.' I succeeded Miss Sadie Martinot in the leading soprano part, and sang it until the end of the opera's long run. Fred Leslie was the Rip Van Winkle, and very fine he was, too. It was a pity he afterward became so thoroughly identified with burlesque."

It was at the time of her first appearance in opera in England that the singer adopted the name of Camille D'Arville. It was chosen for euphony only, and had no significance whatever.

After her success in "Rip Van Winkle" Miss D'Arville toured the English province with "Falka," and in 1887 returned to London to play in "Mynheer Jan." This was followed by an engagement at the Gaiety Theatre, and her position in London seemed established, when a quarrel with the management caused her to break her contract and she appeared at another theatre in the title role of "Babette."

Miss D'Arville first came to this country in the spring of 1888, being under engagement to J. C. Duff; and her first appearance here was made in New York in April in "The Queen's Mate" in the cast with Lillian Russell. In the fall Miss D'Arville returned to London, where she appeared in "Carina," in which piece her charming archness was a feature. The Carl Rosa Company then engaged her to take the part of Yvonne in "Paul Jones," in which Agnes Huntington as the hero had taken the city by storm. With the same company she also created the title role in "Marjorie," which also enjoyed a long run. During the summer of 1889 Miss D'Arville became connected with the New York Casino, appearing in "La Fille de Madame Angot," "The Grand Duchess," and "Poor Jonathan." Back to London she hied herself once more, and for a time was heard at the Trocadero and Pavillon. Then she returned to the United States, and joined the Bostonians, with whom she sang Arline in "The Bohemian Girl," Maid Marion in "Robin Hood," and Katherine in a revival of "The Mascotte." She was probably the most satisfactory Maid Marion, all things considered, that ever sang the part. Certainly she was better as an actress than Marie Stone, who had previously taken the role, and she was physically better fitted to the character than Alice Nielsen. Critics, who up to that time had not been entirely satisfied with Miss D'Arville, claiming that her vocal method was bad and her acting oftentimes crude and meaningless, found her work in "Robin Hood" very much to their taste.

"As a singer she has improved during the past year," said one. "Her tones are purer; she uses her voice with more discretion; and she has discovered that a scream is not synonymous with forte. She is vivacious; she lends a dramatic interest that has been sadly lacking in former performances of this company, when the members were too apt to mistake the audience for a congregation and the stage for a choir loft. She is fair to look upon, and yet she does not strive to monopolize attention."

After quitting the Bostonians Miss D'Arville starred in Edward E. Rice's spectacular production of the extravaganza "Venus," which was first acted in Boston in September, 1893. Her dashing Prince Kam, that imaginary Thibetian potentate, who, finding no earthly beauty that satisfied his ideal, journeyed to Mars, where he succeeded in winning the love of Venus herself, was a thoroughly delightful characterization.

"A Daughter of the Revolution," with which Miss D'Arville was next identified, was made over by J. Cheever Goodwin and Ludwig Englaender from a comic opera called "1776," produced some ten years before by a German company playing at the Thalia Theatre in New York. It achieved but limited popularity at that time, but in its revised form it was an agreeable, if not exactly exciting, entertainment. It was not an ideal comic opera, by any means. Too much of the machinery of construction was left visible for that. There were two characters, the dealer in military supplies and the laundress, so obviously dragged in simply because the low-comedy man needed a foil and a soubrette to play opposite to him, that one looked to see the marks of violence on their ears. But librettos are hard things to write--they must be or we should certainly find one now and then that is above reproach--so one would fain overlook jarring circumstances for the sake of the tuneful melodies of the score and the brisk action. Miss D'Arville sang well, and made an attractive picture in her series of becoming costumes.

A starring tour in "Madeleine; or the Magic Kiss," a comic opera of considerable merit although it never won more than a fair degree of popularity, was her next venture, and then she was engaged to create the prima donna role of Lady Constance in "The Highwayman," a Reginald DeKoven and Harry B. Smith composition. A quarrel with the management while rehearsals were in progress caused her to retire from the company, however, and her place was taken by Hilda Clark.