the sleigh that carried her to the performance hall, the diva hummed some of the arias and songs she would perform that evening. She glanced fondly at the familiar passing scene: the show-filled streets, passers-by hailing horse-drawn taxis, and children hurling snowballs that burst against greystone buildings that reminded her of parts of The City, London's business district.
Emma arrived back in London for the start of the opera season. She sang for the Shah of Persia during his official visit to England in July 1889. The potentate was resplendent in his uniform, glittering with diamonds and other precious stones – he shone more brilliantly than a jewellery shop window. The Shah, amused by the sight of the musicians tuning their instruments, applauded; for etiquette's sake, the rest of the audience imitated him. He slept through most of the performance, rousing himself every once in a while to admire the ballerinas. When he wondered aloud if he might obtain some of them for his harem, he was told that in England, these arrangements were made more discreetly.
It was during that season that Nelly Melba made her Covent Garden debut in Rigoletto. The wide range and beautiful timbre of her voice, the quality of her phrasing, and her exceptional lung capacity immediately made her the house darling.
Emma realized that Albani's star was fading at last. In the newspapers she read that “the Covent Garden management has decided to stop basing its opera programme on the cult of a single star performer. Now, secondary roles as well will be sung by great artists. Nonetheless, we deplore the loss of Madame Albani, who has enchanted audiences of the Royal Italian Opera in her grand roles for many a year. In future, she will no longer have the exclusivity of these roles.”
George Bernard Shaw, the sharp-tongued Irish playwright, essayist, and man-about-town, was a relentless critic of Albani and other opera divas. He wrote of Emma: “her acting is calculated, with an obvious lack of spontaneity.” He admitted, however, that she was unsurpassed as an interpreter of Wagner's music.
Emma was still in demand for touring contracts, and her busy schedule did not allow her to ruminate on comments such as Shaw's. In autumn 1889, she left for a tour of the United States and Mexico as part of a troupe that included the legendary Adelina Patti and Francesco Tamagno. On its way to Mexico City, the large convoy of opera stars, musicians, and choral singers, with their mountains of baggage containing costumes, instruments, and stage sets, were obliged to delay for a day until a stretch of the railway track could be repaired, completely throwing them off their tour schedule.
Mexico City is situated at an altitude of over two thousand metres; the nights are chilly, and most of the houses and hotels are unheated. Emma warmed herself by drinking the fortifying cordial that she had used for years, a concoction called Mariani wine. Charles Gounod had introduced her to the benefits of this elixir based on pulverized coca leaves. Newspaper advertisements of the period proclaimed that “Mariani wine stimulates and clears the throat and strengthens the chest. Approved by the Medical Academy of Paris, this drink has gone around the world. It is known as ‘the wine of athletes.’”
From Mexico, the troupe returned to the United States, then to Canada, where Emma sang La traviata and Lucia di Lammermoor. It was the first time in Canada that two full-length operas were presented by a troupe mounted for the occasion. Albani's visit ended in Montreal with a benefit concert in aid of the Notre-Dame Hospital. Held at the Victoria skating rink, this event brought in twenty-five hundred dollars.
The following year, at Covent Garden, she sang Desdemona in Verdi's Otello, opposite Jean de Reszke, who sang the role of the jealous Moor. In Albani's dressing room hung a photograph of the celebrated tenor, inscribed: “With the very affectionate homage of her devoted partner.”
True to himself, George Bernard Shaw wrote of the performance that Desdemona was “pleasantly plump – rather too plump for the role.” This barb finally succeeded in annoying Emma. “Him again! Won't he ever leave me in peace?”
To the devil with Shaw! It was no pasty, evanescent Desdemona who gave throat to her first aria, Mio superbo guerrier, addressed to Otello, but a passionate and loving wife who poignantly begged for mercy, crying “Non uccidermi!”4 And afterwards, brokenhearted and without hope, intoning “Emilia, distendi sul mio letto la mia candida veste nuziale se morir dovessi”5 before uttering the desperate plea, “É perchè t'amo che m'uccidi?”6 as Otello glares at her with maddened eyes before strangling her.
“De Reszke has the habit of changing the stage directions to maximize the effect, without telling his partners in advance,” mused Emma. “I hardly know what to expect: tonight, he's so convincing that I don't know if I'll come out of it alive!” However, after grasping Desdemona's corpse in his arms for the finale, Otello raised her up and led her forward to bow to the wildly applauding crowd.
Glowing with success, she returned to the United States for a three-month contract at the Metropolitan Opera of New York City. Her Met debut was as Gilda in Rigoletto on December 23, 1891.
While Emma and Ernest took the train to Montreal to spend Christmas at the Villa Albani with Papa Lajeunesse, their son Ernest Frederick spent his holidays in England with Aunt Nelly and his paternal relatives. In Chambly, on the Rue Bourgogne, a typically English Christmas dinner was served: turkey, mince pie, and plum pudding. Real candles on the Christmas tree had been replaced by little electric lights. Emma reminded the assembled family members that the tradition of the Christmas tree had been introduced to England by Victoria's beloved Prince Albert, who had brought it from his native Germany.
In Montreal that winter, Albani sang in two operas, with singers from New York. Returning to the Metropolitan, she was acclaimed until the end of March, 1892, in Faust, Otello, Don Giovanni (as Elvira), Meyerbeer's Les Huguenots (in the role of Valentine), and Wagner's Lohengrin, Die fliegende Holländer, and Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (as Eva).
In New York, Albani's name not only appeared in print for her performances, but also her wardrobe: the Redfern shirtwaist dresses that she wore were considered daring. She was also known for wearing hats with fine veils of different hues. “They give rainbow nuances to the face,” gushed a feature writer in an American fashion magazine.
In 1893, her career was still in full swing with a demanding agenda of opera tours in Austria, Hungary, and Bohemia, as well as a full slate of English festival performances. A whirlwind schedule, as usual.
In 1894, Ernest organized for Emma a German tour, which ended in Switzerland where their son was at boarding school. He was fifteen years old and hoped to make a career for himself in the British foreign service. “You'll have to study very hard, Freddy,” his father advised him. “You know how difficult the civil service entrance exams are.”
In the train on their way back to England, Emma said to her husband: “How Freddy has grown! I hardly know him, really, being so busy with my singing and all the travelling. When he was little, we used to take him with us, but those days ended so soon. Do you remember how he used to hang on to us, begging us not to go? And when he was ten, how he learned my part in Mors et Vita by heart so we would return more quickly to hear him sing it? And the drawings of us he used to do when we were away? I don't believe he has ever really understood how much I love him, in spite of everything.”
Two years later, Albani was booked for a new North American concert tour at the beginning of 1896. New York City seemed more electrifying than ever; the first public cinema screenings had just been inaugurated and were attracting eager crowds.
On this trip, Ernest Frederick accompanied his parents. He was now a handsome youth of seventeen, but very reserved, having been brought up under the Victorian edict that children were to be seen and not heard. He was all eyes and ears on the tour, as he took in new impressions. When they reached Quebec
