THE LIGHTER SIDE

383

THE LIGHTER SIDE Law • v Art. — Boston was convulsed, last winter, by an incident in the rivalry of two opera impressarios, which resulted in a suit in breach of contract by Mr. Hammerstein against the tenor Albani, then singing for Manager Russell On the theory that the defendant was about to leave the state, he was arrested on mesne process just before the curtain arose for the second act of // Trovatore, in which he was singing Manrico. There was an awkward wait, then the manager appeared and related his troubles to the audience, and assured them that the performance should proceed, though it would be necessary that the constable accompany his prisoner until a suitable bond could be executed. The director's next care was the tenor him self. Could he, would he, proceed with a deputy sheriff at his heels and mindful that such a prisoner had once escaped by a quick turn through the wings? Yes, Mr. Albani would continue. It was the business of Man rico to battle with all sorts of fate. Accord ingly the curtain rose upon the familiar scene of the gypsy encampment. There reclined Manrico, " wrapped in a large cloak, his helmet at his feet, his sword grasped in his hand " —'• Verdi's stage directions to the letter and Mr. Albani looking every inch the roman tic and fated hero. There, as well, in one of the wings, in full view of at least two-thirds of the audience, stood the constable looking also every inch a constable from the soles of his policeman's shoes to the crown of his derby hat — a portly and inoffensive person, halfamused, half-embarrassed, but dutiful always. An unappreciative audience hissed him with true Italian fervor, while Mr. Albani cast skew and expressive eyes upon him. The action of the opera proceeded, and not long did Manrico recline. Now the " busi ness " of his part bade him cross the stage, or take his place by the Gypsy's side. Or again he descended to the foot-lights the bet ter to propel a high note to the ears of his hear ers. At each movement, at each gesture, the constable started, as though his prisoner were about to leap across the footlights. Nothing happened, and the constable shifted his watch

ful pose to the other leg. At every pause, the audience showered its applause upon Man rico, and by this time Mr. Albani had caught the true spirit of the incident. He waved his hands scornfully at the deputy; he mocked him with his eyes; he chose the particular wing in which that officer stood for his final and excited rush from the stage, and before the curtain shut off that functionary he was obviously settling his hat anew upon his head. The scene shifted to the sombre court-yard of the convent. Into it trooped the retainers of the Count di Luna; then Leonora and the nuns; then Manrico and his soldiers; and last the constable posting himself at the convent gates, well in the moonlight. Apparently his apprehensions had become fewer; at least Manrico was in the centre of his enemies. But the scene is bustling; to and fro through the gate flow the soldiers of the chorus and the singing actors. Were they as careful as they might be or did their histrionic energy make them careless. Who shall say, but more than once the deputy had to settle his hat afresh. At the end came his reward. Loud was the applause; many the calls for the singers; courteously Mr. Albani, now in high spirits, motioned to the constable to join him. He returned the bow with equal courtesy, but he budged not a step toward the footlights and the laughing audience. In the entr'acte Mr. Russell announced that a bond had been filed, and that Mr. Albani was free; and the rest of the performance returned to the normal. Pre sumably the deputy departed to meditate on his first and only appearance in "II Trova tore," and Mr. Hammerstein in New York must have slept well. Spiritualizing. — Robert Smith, brother of Sydney Smith, and an ex-Advocate-General, on one occasion engaged in an argument with a physician over the relative merits of their respective professions. "I don't say that all lawyers are crooks," said the doctor, " but you'll have to admit that your profession doesn't make angels of men." "No," retorted Smith, " you doctors certain ly have the best of us there. ' '•—Rochester Herald.