ow of no other singer with the force or vocal equipment for this
difficult role. At the time this music drama was produced its intervals
were considered in the guise of unrelated notes. It was the cry that the
voice parts were written without reference to the orchestral score, and
that these wandered up and down without regard for the limitations of a
singer. Since _Elektra_ was first performed we have travelled far, and
now that we have heard _The Nightingale_ of Strawinsky, for instance,
perusal of Strauss's score shows us a perfectly ordered and
understandable series of notes. Even now, however, there are few of our
singers who could cope with the music of _Elektra_ without devoting a
good many months to its study, and more time to the physical exercise
needful to equip one with the force necessary to carry through the
undertaking. Mme. Mazarin never faltered. She sang the notes with
astonishing accuracy; nay, more, with potent vocal colour. Never did the
orchestral flood o'er-top her flow of sound. With consummate skill she
realized the composer's intentions as completely as she had those of the
poet.

Those who were present at the first American performance of this work
will long bear the occasion in mind. The outburst of applause which
followed the close of the play was almost hysterical in quality, and
after a number of recalls Mme. Mazarin fainted before the curtain. Many
in the audience remained long enough to receive the reassuring news that
she had recovered. As a reporter of musical doings on the "New York
Times," I sought information as to her condition at the dressing-room of
the artist. Somewhere between the auditorium and the stage, in a
passageway, I encountered Mrs. Patrick Campbell, who, a short time
before, had appeared at the Garden Theatre in Arthur Symons's
translation of von Hofmannsthal's drama. Although we had never met
before, in the excitement of the moment we became engaged in
conversation, and I volunteered to escort her to Mme. Mazarin's room,
where she attempted to express her enthusiasm. Then I asked her if she
would like to meet Mr. Hammerstein, and she replied that it was her
great desire at this moment to meet the impresario and to thank him for
the indelible impression this evening in the theatre had given her. I
led her to the corner of the stage where he sat, in his high hat,
smoking his cigar, and I presented her to him. "But Mrs. Campbell was
introduced to me only three minutes a