The Moderate Soprano

by David Hare

  Busch It’s hard to explain, Captain Christie – Mrs Christie – I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced the feeling of being traduced.

  John Traduced?

  Busch Yes.

  John Say more.

  Busch Partly it’s a matter of being publicly misrepresented. Humiliated in front of people.

  John It hasn’t happened yet.

  Busch Not yet, but I’m afraid to say that it will.

  John Why do you say that?

  Busch Because you intend to start an opera house –

  John No ‘intend’ about it. I am.

  Busch When it opens, there’s a good chance things will be written in the press. These things will alarm and dismay you. I can tell you, misrepresentation incurs the strongest feelings.

  John I can’t see that happening.

  Busch Really?

  John I don’t think so.

  Busch Are you sure you know yourself? Your own feelings? It isn’t till it happens. That’s when you find out.

  Audrey smiles.

  Audrey It is true, darling, you don’t take criticism very well.

  John I don’t think that’s fair. I don’t think that’s fair at all.

  Audrey When you make a suggestion – about how things should be done – you like it to be accepted. You like to prevail.

  John Of course. Who doesn’t? I happen to be one of those people who knows what they’re talking about. I look at things rationally and I choose the best course. I expect other people to follow.

  Ebert And when they don’t?

  John looks at him witheringly.

  Busch For me, this was no trivial matter. Two thousand people booing my appearance. Try it some time. I felt humiliated in my own house. This aroused ignoble feelings. Unworthy feelings.

  John Of what kind?

  Busch This is where I made myself vulnerable. Because I wanted vindication.

  John I see.

  Busch Public vindication. That’s what I longed for.

  John Well, that’s understandable.

  Busch Yes. But, you see, that’s where Goering was clever. He was clever enough to offer it.

  John How did he do that?

  Ebert At first, by dividing us.

  John What happened?

  Busch He called me back the next day. Alone. Without Carl.

  John You went by yourself?

  Busch I’m afraid so. I couldn’t resist.

  Ebert The devil carried Fritz to a high mountain and said, ‘All this I will give thee …’

  Busch Yes, that’s exactly how it was.

  John He tempted you?

  Busch With the thing he knew I wanted most in the world.

  John What was that?

  Busch is now enjoying himself.

  Busch Goering said that he had heard that Toscanini was going to withdraw from his post.

  John Toscanini?

  Busch Exactly. He was convinced that he would not appear this season. Indeed Toscanini had sent a telegram, saying he was not willing to meet Nazi conditions.

  John They offered you Bayreuth?

  Busch Yes. Bayreuth.

  There is a deep silence. Audrey and John are appropriately impressed.

  John Well I must say …

  Ebert Exactly.

  John Clever devil. Bayreuth, eh?

  Busch Yes.

  John It’s not bad, is it? I must say. It’s not bad. You have to hand it to them, don’t you? Worth selling your soul.

  John laughs.

  Busch ‘How do you like the sound of Bayreuth?’ Goering said. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘artists are all the same, they make a fuss at first. They protest. They love protesting. They feel they have to. But then they always give in. Nazis, we’re like hot soup,’ he said. ‘The artists say we’re too hot to drink, and then they blow on us a few times, and hey, suddenly this soup is good.’

  There is a moment’s silence.

  Ebert Du bist zu kritisch, dir selber gegen über.

  Busch I don’t think so.

  Ebert Doch, wirklich!

  John What did you do?

  Busch Carl knows. I walked out of the building.

  John What answer did you give?

  Busch I said I’d think about it. Yes, I’m ashamed but that’s what I said.

  Ebert It was only for a moment.

  Busch A moment of weakness.

  Ebert shrugs.

  Ebert It’s human.

  Busch You must understand: it was everything I’d ever dreamt of. To stand and conduct in the most famous musical theatre in the world.

  Audrey But you didn’t?

  Busch No.

  Audrey Why not?

  Busch Next day I was walking in the street. My wife quoted Falstaff to me.

  John Shakespeare?

  Ebert No, Verdi.

  Busch What is it Falstaff says? You have honour or you don’t. Nobody can give it and nobody can take it away.

  A silence.

  I told Goering.

  John How did he take it?

  Busch He lost his temper. He became quite violent. He said my wishes didn’t come into it, he was ordering me to appear at Bayreuth. I said I thought a performance of Tannhäuser conducted under the barrel of a gun would not be a pleasant thing for anyone to listen to, whatever their political allegiance.

  He smiles.

  Twenty-four hours later I gathered up my family and left for England with nothing but a few belongings. There it is.

  He looks round.

  Audrey It’s quite a story.

  Busch It is, isn’t it?

  Audrey For both of you. But does it have an ending?

  John Darling …

  Audrey I’m only asking.

  Audrey smiles, beatific.

  You see, Doctor, your friend Carl itemises the inadequacies of my husband’s theatre. He ticked them all off, one by one. Probably he’s right. In fact I’m sure he is. But, for all its faults, it’s yours if you want it. And it has the advantage that John isn’t Hitler. He’s not even Goering. I’m sure we have too little money, and the building’s all wrong, it’s too small, it’s cramped, the acoustics are probably terrible and goodness knows nobody in Britain knows anything about opera. We’re rustics. Let’s face it: our musical culture is poor. And I’m sure the money is less than in Buenos Aires. But here you’ll keep your honour.

  There is another silence.

  I don’t see how you can bear to refuse.

  Ebert and Busch just look at her, silent.

  EIGHT: 1939

  John gets up and moves down to talk to us.

  John And that was it. In that moment. Oh, there were others. So many problems lay in our path. So many obstacles. But the question was no longer whether they’d do it. Suddenly the question was how.

  Audrey spoke in that beautiful mannerly voice. Her English was always musical. She spoke as if language were song. She’d sat there, she’d listened. I’d been bursting with feeling. I’d interrupted, I’d protested, I’d argued. She hadn’t. These humane, decent men told us what had happened, and Audrey just waited. For fifteen minutes she’d had only one thought. ‘So how do we get them to stay?’

  Great leaders don’t judge. They calculate. Audrey was always a better leader than me.

  NINE: 1962

  Carl Ebert gets up and moves down to talk to us.

  Ebert Fritz was right. Twenty five years later, in 1959, I did a production at Glyndebourne of Rosenkavalier. It got a bad review in The Times. What did John Christie do? He contacted every single member of the first-night audience to ask them to write to the editor to tell him they disagreed with the critic. Nearly every one of them obeyed.

  You see, Fritz had warned him: it turned out Christie was like everyone else. He couldn’t bear to be traduced. And what did he want? Like Fritz, he wanted vindication. John wanted the profound satisfaction of someone saying ‘I got it wrong’.

  TEN: 1952

  Audrey is back in bed, propped up now, the
wheelchair abandoned. The bed is in disarray, she is raging and she has a newspaper in her hand. John is coming into the room. He is in his dressing gown. He is seventy, a touch disoriented.

  Audrey Have you read this? This is disgusting. Have you read what they say?

  John I haven’t. What is it?

  Audrey It’s offensive.

  John Yes, but what is it?

  Audrey turns it over to look.

  Audrey It’s the News Chronicle.

  John All right, give me the gist. Just the headline.

  Audrey ‘Snobs on the Lawn’.

  John Ah. Good. Must be about us.

  She throws him a look of dismay. He’s secretly cheerful.

  What does it say?

  Audrey ‘The pre-war sound of privilege is once more being heard in a Sussex garden.’

  John Is that how it starts?

  Audrey ‘After an interval of enforced silence brought on by the war, the British establishment is bouncing back. They’re dusting down the picnic baskets and the music is flowing like money again …’

  John Good. It sounds very positive.

  Audrey Positive?

  John Yes. At least they know we’re back in business.

  Audrey ‘The ruling class returns to its most expensive hobby. Forget the music. Not one person in ten even knows what opera they’re watching. Roll out the pork pies and champagne!’

  She shakes her head, furious.

  Is that all it is? Is that our life’s work?

  John It’s just envy.

  Audrey We worked so hard. We gave up so much.

  John Gave up? What do you mean? Gave up? What did you give up?

  Audrey looks away.

  No. Tell me.

  Audrey Forget it.

  John Audrey.

  Audrey John.

  John I thought you were happy. Before the war. Let’s not forget. Let’s not forget. How happy we were. Weren’t we?

  Audrey Come on, let’s talk about something else.

  John looks away, grumpy.

  It’s interesting. Why does everyone hate us so much?

  John They don’t hate us.

  Audrey They do.

  John The Christies have always been controversial. I grant you, eleven Christies were canonised saints. But remember sixty-nine were executed by their rulers, probably for very good reasons.

  Audrey ‘Snobs on the Lawn’!

  John You might as well face it, darling: people who come to Glyndebourne don’t talk about the opera. They talk about grass. They always want to know ‘How do you get the lawns to look so beautiful?’ I tell them, ‘It’s easy. You just have to mow them for two hundred years.’

  Audrey It’s a good answer.

  John shrugs.

  John Opera’s expensive. It costs a lot of money. What can I do? I’ve been trying to get those four-letter fellows at the Arts Council to do their duty. But the very word ‘Glyndebourne’ –

  Audrey It’s not the word ‘Glyndebourne’.

  John Then what is it?

  Audrey You’re so confrontational. You lecture them. You have no tact. While I was in Canada –

  She stops, not wanting to go on.

  John While you were in Canada, what exactly?

  Audrey Your idea of passing the time. Writing to Winston Churchill in the middle of the war to complain about standards of music-making on the BBC.

  John They were scandalous.

  Audrey And not just music! You were demanding a Ministry of Efficiency. And what was it? A Ministry of Conscience.

  John A Ministry of National Conscience. Much better.

  Audrey Working out of Glyndebourne! Based in Glyndebourne!

  She is disbelieving.

  John Why look at me like that?

  Audrey You were just bored.

  John They were damned good ideas.

  Audrey You were sitting alone. You had nothing to do. In an empty house. Rattling around.

  John It was necessary. Music’s important.

  Audrey So are manners. My mother taught me: when you strut, you stumble.

  John looks across at her and concedes, moving across to sit on the bed.

  John You’re right. I’m no good without you. When you’re not around, I don’t exist. We’re a team.

  He reaches out his hand to touch her cheek.

  Audrey What did he say?

  John Who?

  Audrey The doctor.

  John When?

  Audrey This morning.

  John Oh. A lot of technical stuff. I wasn’t listening.

  She looks away.

  Audrey I’m going to conk out. We know that.

  John No.

  Audrey I know it’s the end.

  John Don’t be ridiculous.

  Audrey I’m itching all over.

  John Take a pill. You’ll feel better. You’re going to sing again.

  Audrey Never say that. Say anything but never say that.

  John Why not?

  Audrey It’s cruel.

  John Why is it cruel? Why is it cruel to give hope?

  Audrey Tell me exactly what the doctor told you today.

  She stares hard at John. He raises his voice.

  John All right, your white cells are diminished.

  Audrey Meaning?

  John There’s albumen in your water.

  Audrey And?

  John I’m just saying. That’s what he said. Since you ask.

  Audrey Albumen?

  John Yes.

  Audrey Do you even know what albumen is? Did you ask him?

  John As I understand it, you had a bad reaction to something or other. I don’t remember. Some drug.

  Audrey What drug?

  John A drug they gave you. After they took out your spleen. To deal with the blood pressure problem, which, if you remember, started all this. Your body didn’t like it. It’s a long word. I wasn’t listening!

  Audrey Then listen! Listen! It’s me that’s dying, not you.

  John stares at her, tears in his eyes.

  ELEVEN: 1950

  Rudi Bing comes back. He speaks directly to us.

  Rudi I’m deeply suspicious of Viennese charm. Why? Because I have so much of it myself. I don’t admire charm. Charm is what people have when they don’t have character. It’s a kind of compensating factor for the weak. Women, of course, are drawn to charm, and I’m happy they are. Many’s the night I’ve motored on it to my destination. I slap too much whipped cream on the hot chocolate. But it always works. There’s a reason that the words ‘superficial’ and ‘charm’ are joined at the hip.

  I stayed on in Berlin. I stayed for three weeks. The brown pest was all over Germany. But I was so stupid I started bringing a case for wrongful dismissal. And I actually thought I’d win. Imagine! I said to the Nazis: ‘I’m Rudolf Bing and you have to honour my contract.’ Outside the theatre, they were taking people off the streets and putting them straight into trucks.

  I was an agent. An agent should know what’s going on. That’s the job. I’d never been to England. Who had? They called for me. ‘Come here quick, we’re in trouble. Nobody knows what they’re doing.’ I liked the sound of it. I thrive on crisis, I feed on it, it sharpens the wits. I love hysteria, it’s my natural element. Nothing first-rate in the arts was ever achieved without it. I agree with Nietzsche. ‘If there is to be art, there must be frenzy.’ The higher the tension, the happier I am.

  At Glyndebourne, I was always happy.

  TWELVE: 1934

  Back in the organ room, three foreign men all in trousers, ties, braces, and shirtsleeves rolled up, are all pacing together: Busch, Ebert and Bing. Morning light at the window. Silver trays full of lavish breakfast at the back.

  Ebert Eight weeks. We start in eight weeks.

  Bing And what do we have for the season? What elements are already in place?

  Busch just laughs.

  Ebert Excellent breakfasts.

  Busch It’s true.

 
Ebert Look, he orders five copies of The Times. Do you see?

  Bing What for?

  Busch So that at breakfast we all have our own.

  Bing Thoughtful.

  Ebert It’s the best hotel I’ve ever stayed in. Hot-water bottles. Feather-down mattresses. Kippers. The lot.

  Bing What are kippers?

  Ebert A kind of non-Austrian fish. They’re yellow. You should try them.

  Bing And do we have any singers or musicians at all?

  Ebert looks at him sardonically.

  Ebert His wife.

  Busch He wants his wife to sing.

  Bing Is that a good idea?

  Busch He calls her ‘my wife, the moderate soprano’.

  Ebert She was a member of the Carl Rosa Opera Company. You know it?

  Bing nods.

  Ebert Are they good?

  Bing They tour.

  Busch raises his arms to the sky.

  And who decides what we do? Who’s in charge? Who’s the intendant?

  Ebert That’s why we need you. That’s why we called for you.

  Bing Sie können nicht selber ihre Leute suchen? Ich fühle mich geschmeichelt.

  They smile.

  I hope you know: I only have a three-week visa.

  Ebert Don’t worry.

  Bing That’s all they’d give me.

  Ebert We’re already dealing with it.

  Busch We spoke to the Captain. He’ll get it extended.

  Ebert That’s how it works in this country. They all went to school together. They all look after each other.

  Bing Sure. But who looks after us?

  John comes in, dressed in a suit but with a dressing gown on top, carrying papers and plans. Audrey follows, also in a housecoat.

  John Ah, there you are. Good. Regular morning meeting. Kick off the day efficiently. Maximum efficiency. That’s how we did it in the trenches.