Evening Star Newspaper, February 14, 1932, Page 84

{12 The Tragedy of Victor Herberts Own Love Story THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, T herese Foerster, when she was a famous prima donna. BY HELEN WELSHIMER. HE love songs of Victor Herbert, Amer- ica’s foremost romantic composer, are among the most popular melodies in the world today. When you tune in on a radio program it is & pretty sure bet that a crooning tenor or an or- chestra will swing into one of his songs if you listen long encugh—'Kiss Me Again,” “Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life,” “A Kiss in the Dark,’ “The Gypsy Love Song.” Dozens of others. Victor Herbert made a name for himself In light opera. He is remembered for “Milie. Modiste,” “The Red Mill,” “The Fortune Teller,” “Babes in Toyland,” “The Singing Girl” and “Naughty Marietta.” Until recently no one has known very much about Herbert's own romance. He must have had one, everybody said. Or at least wanted one. His songs told that. It wasn't enough of an explanation to leain that he was marricd at the age of 27 and lived with his wife until his death in 1927. Ever since the radio put his music on the air people have been asking questions. 'HEY wanted to know if he had a »secret yearning that he expressed in somg. If he had ever loved and lost. If his wife was really the inspiration of his music, as he said she was. Now the story has come out. Joseph Kaye has written the biography of famous composer of light opera. He calls simply by the music master’s name, “Victor, Herbert.” But the book, published regently by G. Howard Watt, answers the questions. Herbert had a romance that started in a manner dramatic enough to suit anybody. His wife was the heroine of it. The marriage lasted. But the romance didn’t. Back in 1886, Herbert was the handsomec young first cellist of court orchestra at the Stuttgart opera in Germany. Already he had made up his mind that ke weas going to be great. He was writing songs and short instrumental pieces. He was play- ing his cello in a way that made people dream and cry and start to dream all over again. girls of Stuttgart adored him. Tall, ¥ strong, broad-shouldered, vigorous, unde- niably handsome, they looked upon him as the answer to a maiden's prayer. He laughed, flirted, danced with them, and went right on playing the cello. Then Therese Foerster came along. She was tall and statuesque, beautiful and- very young. Her dramatic soprano voice had been given plenty of applause at the Vienna Opera House. She was booked as one of the stars of the Stuttgart opera. Victor Herbert sat in the orchestra pit, gazed at the new star, and fell in love. She looked in his direction and did the same thing. Fatc worked right along with the lovers. Praulein Poerster needed coaching. Victor Herbert gheerfully came to her aid. Spring came. All the linden trees were in Even the music of the opera house seemed lovelier. Herbert and Therese were sngaged now. But Walter Damrosch had arrived in Stutt- gart. He was searching for new voices for the German operas which the Metropolitan Opera Co. in New York wanted to feature. When he heard Fraulein Foerster he decided that she must be included. E told her abeut it. She liked his terms. But she said she couldn’t go. She ex- ned that she was engaged to Herr Victer , who played the first cello, and she pouldn’t leave him. FEBRUARY W, 132 Victor Herbert at the height of his career. An Unknown Cellist, He Married a Famous Singer, Then When They Came to America the Fates Re- versed the Roles—He Became Famous—She Died Unknown and Broken-Hearted. Damrosch was puzzled. Kaye says: “But her career? New York was a city to which all European artists wished to go; a new country, new audiences, much money. Would she miss such an opportunity? “The young woman was not at all excited. America might be all that the Herr Damrosch said, and the Metropolitan a magnificent place to sing, but she would not leave her Herr Vic- tor Herbert. “Damrosch went to interview Herr Victor Herbert. He heard him play and returned to Fraulein Foerster. Would she go if Herr Vic- tor Herbert went with her? Went with her as what? As first cellist of the Metropelitan. “Ah, ja! Certainly she would ge. That would be a pleasure.” So the couple signed contracts to appear in American opera that Fall, were married, and sailed for New York. OBODY knew Victor Herbert. He played a cello and drew $60 a week. But every- body knew his wife. She fairly sparkled in the glamorous settings of the Metropolitan. She sang with Lilli Lehmann on the opening night, in “The Queen of Sheba.” The critics said all sorts of nice things about her voice and beauty when they wrote their press comments. She used the name of Frau Herbert-Foerster. Victor Herbert, whe loved his wife as madly as he wanted to be famous, had to read comments such as this: “The newcomer, Frau Herbert-Foerster, was received with favor. Her mezzo-soprane voice has both strength and resonance, and her comeliness, for the first time since the ‘Queen of Sheba’ was made known in this country, rendered Asad’s infatuation comprehensible.” Herbert knew that he didnt have to be jealous of his wife’s popularity. She adored him. She sang some of her love songs straight at him;, as he sat hidden away in the or- chestra pit. She worried because he smoked big, black cigars that she thought weren't good for him. The two young people used to exchange smiles acrces the footlights, quite as though nobody else was present. Mrs. Herbert was heard in four roles in the Metropolitan. She was the queen in “The Queen of Sheba,” Elsie in “Lohengrin,” Aida in “Aida” and Irene in Wagner'’s “Riensi.” Her career was brilliant, but brief. When the season closed she announced that she weuldn't be back. She wouldn't give the reasen. SOME people said that it was because her husband was jealous of the operatic love scenes. Others, because children came. But Kaye says, in speaking of Herbert: “He had a strong. if unspoken, feeling that of the two he should dominate. And as Mrs. Herbert loved her husband exceedingly, and was, by nature, a home person to whom the good management of a house and family was even more interesting than the creation of an operatic role, she could yield to him without too much aggravation.” Then he makes the statement that ends the romance: “Though the Herberts' marriage originated in love, they were unhappily mated. Herbert was not a man of fixed interest where women were concerned, and he differed characteristi- cally from Mrs. Herbert. He was never more happy than when in the midst of Metropolitan gayety; she was contented with her home.” She didn't have a prima donna’s tempera- ment. Just a prima donna's voice. ERBERT'S light operas began to appear. His orchestrated numbers were being hum- med around town. But Therese, who had been beautiful, started to fade. She grew fat. She couldn’t get the hang of the English language. These things grated on the man who had adored her so blindly one Spring in Stuttgart. Herbert's interest lessened. But he grew more handsome. Therese adored him as com- pletely as she had done when she refused to be famous unless he could be famous, too. Her children were taking her time now. There were two, Ella Victoria and Clifford. Some of his light operas were very success- ful. Some weren't appreciated. Mrs. Herbert was always consoling, sympathetic, sure of her husband’s genius. She never mentioned the fact, when stars were being sought for the leading roles of his operas, that she had once belonged in the front ranks of the music world. If she remembered those days, she never told her husband about it. The romantic composer was still searching for thrills. Pretty girls had a fascination. They stood for romance. And he made songs for romance. One day, when “The Singing Girl” was hav- ing its out-of-town opening in Montreal, Her- bert sat down to drink a cocktail and talk with Sam Finkelstein, who played in his orchestra and incidentally was one of his close friends. PFinkelstein remembers their conversation. “A party of girls from the show came in. They were pretty girls, provokingly attractive. Victor looked at them and sighed. “‘Can't go around with pretty girls any more.” he :aid. “*Why?' I asked, laughing. “‘I'm becoming too well known,’ he replied. ‘They’ll point their fingers at me.”” UT after a while, with love lyrics drifting everywhere, he made another play for ro- mance. In a perfectly conventional manner, though. He used to call a friend of his to meet him for lunch. The man would always find that Herbert had invited a young woman, too. There was a German girl, tall and blonde and pretty, who was a favorite. But the pretty girls who drifted into his life drifted out quite as easily. As far as love itself is concerned he seems to have given that only to the girl who sang her way into his heart back in Stuttgart. Maybe Mrs. Herbert understood that her romantic husband needed youth and loveliness if he wanted to make songs that would be re- membered. Anyway, she went on loving him and living with him in a contented, happy sort of fashion Herbert seemed satisfied. Romance didn't last. At least not for the great romantic com- poser. But Therese Herbert, who died not long after her husband. had the satisfaction of knowing that whatever Herbert himself found of that illusive magic which he put into his love sangs, he found with her when she was famous—and he wasn't. Philo Gubb Continued from Eighth Page dumped Mr. Paverty out of the taxicab, do ye mind?” “And left his body corpse there” said Mr. Gubb. “Weel,” said Mr. MacGuilliguish, “in a way of speakin’, yes! But not entirely. For, ye see, he was not quite dead yet, Meester Gubb. So I took feefty cents more from him, it bein’ only fair he should pay for the taxi ride I had taken him from his hoose.” HEN Sandy had thus explained the miss- ing half dollar, Mr. Gubb locked very stern for a few moments. This was because the reason that MacGuilliguish had given for taking the 50 cents was one that any Scotch- man should have guessed, and Mr. Gubb was displeased that he had not put himself com- pletely into a Scotch state of mind. He had intended to do so, but he had not succeeded. Even a minor failure like that had the power to disturb him. ¢Into a murder case,” he told Chief Schultz when Sandy McGuilliguish had been taken to the jail, “a deteckative had ought to put him- self totally completely inte the character of the suspected criminal person if he wants not to be baffled.” “Sure!" agreed Chief Schults. did it, yes—no?"” “To a largely complete extent,” said Philo Gubb, “but net tetally complete enough. I kept on my pants, Schultz, and Scottish High- landers when into a state of native dress don't wear none.” “Und so you