lles de Cadix_ with irresistible effect, a good part of
which, however, is produced by her personality and manner, qualities
which carry her far on the concert stage, although for some esoteric
reason they have never inveigled the general public into an enthusiastic
surrender to her charm. I have often heard her sing Swedish songs in her
native tongue (sometimes to her own accompaniment) so enchantingly, with
such appeal in her manner, and such velvet tones in her voice, that
those who heard her with me not only burst into applause but also into
exclamations of surprise and delight. Nevertheless, in her concerts, or
in opera, although her admirers are perhaps stronger in their loyalty
than those of any other singer, she has never possessed the greatest
drawing power. This is one of the secrets of the stage; it cannot be
solved. It would seem that the art of Mme. Fremstad was more homely,
more human in song, grander and more noble in opera, than that of Mme.
Tetrazzini, but the public as a whole prefers to hear the latter,
just as it has gone in larger numbers to see the acting of Miss Garden
or Mme. Farrar. Why this is so I cannot pretend to explain.

[Illustration: OLIVE FREMSTAD AS ELSA

_from a photograph by Mishkin (1913)_]

Mme. Fremstad has appeared in pretty nearly all of the important, and
many of the lesser, Wagner roles. She has never sung Senta, and she once
told me that she had no desire to do so, nor has she been heard as Freia
or Eva. But she has sung Ortrud and Elsa, Venus and Elisabeth, Adriano
in _Rienzi_, Kundry, Isolde and Brangaene, Fricka, Erda, Waltraute,
Sieglinde, one of the Rhine maidens (perhaps two), and all three
Bruennhildes. In most of these characterizations she has succeeded in
making a deep impression. I have never seen her Ortrud, but I have been
informed that it was a truly remarkable impersonation. Her Elsa was the
finest I have ever seen. To Ternina's poetic interpretation she added
her own greater grace and charm, and a lovelier quality of voice. If, on
occasion, the music of the second act proved too high for her, who could
sing the music of the dream with such poetic expression?--or the love
music in the last act?--as beautiful an impersonation, and of the same
kind, as Mary Garden's Melisande.

Her Venus was another story. She yearned for years to sing Elisabeth,
and when she had satisfied this ambition, she could be persuaded only
with difficulty to appear as the goddess. She