For the second time I have heard Clara sing in publicⒺexplanatory note. It was in New York. I was vastly pleased with her singing, and also with her perfect carriage on the stage. A fine and graceful and dignified and sweetly-winning stage carriage is an unusual thing in a beginner. I went to the concert with Mr. and Mrs. H. H. RogersⒺexplanatory note, and when I found that Mrs. Rogers had had the thoughtfulness to provide herself with a great bouquet of choice roses to hurl at the singer in case the singer’s performance might warrant it, I was ashamed that I, the singer’s own father, had been less thoughtful. I will refer to this detail again, presently. Here is a notice, culled from the New York Evening Post Ⓐtextual note Ⓔexplanatory note:
Miss Clemens and Miss LittlehalesⒺexplanatory note.
There was an audience of unusual distinction at Mendelssohn Hall last night when Miss Clara Clemens and Miss Lillian Littlehales gave a joint recital. Literature was represented as well as music; Mark Twain was there to witness his daughter’s triumph, and W. D. Howells applauded as if he belonged to a paid claque. After the second group of songs, bouquets were passed to Miss Clemens, the last one being carried by her venerable father; and as she was a little slow in coming out again, he deposited it on the stage for her to pick up.
Miss Clemens was heard in the same hall in a group of songs some weeks ago, but she was then affected by a cold, which prevented her from doing herself justice. Last night her voice was in fine condition, and she gave much pleasure to the audience by her singing, while those who cared not for her songs could listen with their eyes and wonder if they had ever seen a concert singer with such an attractive stage presence. In the concert hall, as in the opera house, it is an advantage to have the charms of visible and audible beauty combined.
The programme included nearly two dozen songs; it suffered from the disadvantage of a lack of variety in the moods, and some of the numbers were not mastersongs, which was a pity; for by her singing of Schubert’s “An die Musik,” “Nacht und Träume,” and Schumann’s “Frühlingsnacht” and “Intermezzo,” Miss Clemens showed that she can interpret mastersongs with intelligence and feeling. She was nervous when she began her opening number, Handel’s “Ah, mio cor,” and this affected her voice; but thenceforward, from number to number, the quality of her tones improved, as is so often the case with opera singers, who are best in the last act. She had to repeat “Flow gently, sweet Afton,”Ⓔexplanatory note and made other climaxes especially in the group of songs rendered in English. Other songs were sung in French, German, and Italian, with full appreciation of their poetic content. Miss Clemens’s [begin page 306] voice has the true contralto quality, so rare in these days; yet there is great beauty also in her highest tones. If Mme. Schumann-HeinkⒺexplanatory note, who sings soprano as well as mezzo and contralto, had charge of her voice, great things might be accomplished with it.
And here is another notice. This is from the New York Herald Ⓐtextual note Ⓔexplanatory note:
It isn’t every evening that you can go to a song recital and see Mark Twain leave his seat and carry to the stage a bunch of flowers tied with a pink streamer ribbon. But that was the interesting sight the audience in Mendelssohn Hall saw and enjoyed last evening. Of course, it follows, too, that it isn’t every singer for whom Mark Twain would leave his seat and carry flowers. Last night the singer was none other than his daughter, Miss Clara Clemens, who was giving a song recital, assisted by Miss Lillian Littlehales, ’cellist.
After the second group of songs, when the audience applauded, Miss Clemens came out and received some roses and a bunch of violets. Then she retired to the artists’ room, but the applause continued, and then her father had his chance. When the silvery haired humorist got to the footlights his daughter had not reached there, so he gently laid the immense bouquet on the platform and walked away. When Miss Clemens came out and saw the roses she smiled down at her father, who had returned to his seat, and there was the tiniest suspicion of a mischievous wink. Then daughter and father wirelessed signals of gratification at each other.
Miss Clemens has been heard here before. Last night she captivated her audience by her winsome and serious manner, and she sang a lengthy and interestingly varied programme of songs and displayed her deep contralto voice to advantage. Miss Littlehales gave a finished performance of a Galliard sonataⒺexplanatory note and earned hearty applause.
Providence does often protect the witless,Ⓐtextual note and steer them comfortablyⒶtextual note out of their difficulties. During one of the outbursts of applause following one of Clara’s triumphs, a man passed up the middle aisle, carrying a lot of bouquets to give to her. Mr. Rogers snatched Mrs. Rogers’sⒶtextual note bouquet, and gave it to me, and said:
“When that man comes back, ask him to deliver this one.”
But the man did not come back; he sheered off to port, and went down the other way. Without thinking what I was about, I did a very happy thing: without thinking that I was about to filch a credit properly belonging to Mrs. Rogers, I got up and walked down the aisle, and laid the bouquet on the stage. Then the audience broke out with vehement approval, and I recognized that it meant, “Here is a father to be proud of; a father who loves and admires his daughter, and has the courage to testify it before all the world, instead of employing a hireling to do it for him; a father, too, who is considerate and thoughtful, and brings his flowers with him, instead of forgetting all about it, as other fathers would.” That cordial praise went straight to my heart, and did me as much good as if I had deserved it. Providence does take care of us, and I am grateful.
I have another compliment to-day, and again I am pleased with myself, and happy. It is from Clara; she closes her letter with it:
[begin page 307] “Father, you were as cunning and well-mannered and orderly and winning at my concert as you could possibly be, and you made it an historic event.”
It is fulsome flattery, but I can stand a good deal in that line.
For the second time I have heard Clara sing in public] Clemens attended Clara’s recital at Mendelssohn Hall in New York on the evening of 13 April 1909. He had previously seen her perform in Norfolk, Connecticut, on 22 September 1906 (“Miss Clemens in New York,” Hartford Courant, 15 Apr 1909, 6; see AutoMT2 , 240, 243–44, 567 n. 240.6–8).
Mr. and Mrs. H. H. Rogers] Rogers married Emilie Augusta Randel Hart (1847?–1912), his second wife, on 3 June 1896 ( HHR , 217 n. 1; “Mrs. H. H. Rogers Dies on a Train,” 31 Aug 1912, 7).
Here is a notice, culled from the New York Evening Post] The clipping is from the issue of 14 April, the day after Clara’s recital.
Miss Littlehales] Lillian Littlehales (1874?–1949) was born in Canada. After studying with Pablo Casals, she enjoyed a successful career as a cellist, playing for many years with the Olive Mead String Quartet. In the late 1920s she taught at Vassar College, and in 1929 published a biography of her famous mentor (“Lillian Littlehales, Long a ’Cellist, 75,” New York Times, 9 Aug 1949, 25).
“Flow gently, sweet Afton,”] A setting of Robert Burns’s poem by Jonathan Edwards Spilman (1812–96).
Mme. Schumann-Heink] Ernestine Schumann-Heink (1861–1936), born in Lieben, Bohemia (now part of Prague), was the most celebrated contralto of her time, with a career spanning more than five decades.
This is from the New York Herald] This article was clipped from the issue of 14 April.
a Galliard sonata] One of the six sonatas for cello (or bassoon) and keyboard written by German composer Johann Ernst Galliard (1687–1747). The name of the accompanist was not mentioned in the newspaper accounts.
Source documents.
Post Clipping from the New York Evening Post, 14 April 1909, unknown page, preserved with the TS: ‘Miss Clemens . . . with it.’ (305.15–306.4).Herald Clipping from the New York Herald, 14 April 1909, unknown page, preserved with the TS: ‘It isn’t . . . hearty applause.’ (306.6–25).
TS Typescript, leaves numbered 1–5, made from Grumman’s notes, Post, and Herald.
For the articles, we follow the original newspaper texts, and Grumman’s accidental variations from copy are not reported.