The "Villa
Mezzana" was closed, and portions of the estate let to various small
farmers. Madame Gerster went with her children to Paris, but soon after
moved to Berlin and became a vocal teacher. She was only twenty-eight
years of age when at the height of her fame, and at thirty her career
was over. Referring to Mapleson once more, who was never inclined to
mince matters when he was annoyed by a prima donna, we get the following
anecdote. While travelling between Louisville and Chicago, the
sleeping-car in which Gerster was travelling broke down and had to be
side-tracked. Madame Gerster was requested to change into another car,
as it was impossible to continue in the one which she was occupying, but
she positively refused to move. She had paid to ride in that car, and
in that car would she go and in no other. No arguments could induce her
to change her mind. At last an expedient was discovered,--the station
agent at the nearest place was a remarkably fine-looking man. He was
dressed up and introduced to her as the president of the road. He
flattered her till she began to soften, and then told her that the
company would be under great obligations to her if she would consent to
use another car. He had a Brussels carpet laid from the door of her car
to that which she was to occupy, and the lady, pleased at the deference
shown to her by so high an official, at last consented to make the
change.

Some of the press criticisms of Gerster's performances during her tour
in 1881 were highly amusing. The following were selected from a paper
published in a large Southern city: "Mrs. Gerster's Lucia is the Lucia
of our youth, and our first ecstasies arose as from a nest of flowers
as fresh and adorable as ever," whatever that may mean. What it
ordinarily described as a walk was pictured in the following mysterious
sentence: "Her light tread as of a restless and frightened bird." Some
of her trills were described as "aflame with passionate intoxication,"
while others were "white and wet with the tears of grief." All this
excellence was manifested with "never a scream to mar her singing." Such
admirable descriptions must have gone far towards reconciling those who
were unable to see and hear the great songstress.

There is and has been much fault to find with American musical
criticism. Excellent musicians have been subjected to the vulgar abuse
of self-sufficient ignoramuses. A movement was recently put on foot to
establish a sch