Ada Leverson, part 5: Love at Second Sight
Ada Leverson, date unknown. Frontispiece, Violet Wyndham, The Sphinx and Her Circle (Vanguard, 1963)
I. Love at Second Sight (1916)
As the title suggests, the final novel Ada Leverson's The Little Ottleys involves recapitulation: the return of the central love triangle from the second novel in the series, Tenterhooks, involving Edith Ottley, her husband Bruce, and the dashing and sympathetic Aylmer Ross. But although the characters meet again after three years and find themselves in a similar dilemma, they have been changed by their earlier experiences and the intervening time. At least, Edith and Aylmer have; Bruce remains as fatuous as ever (if not more so).
But much else has changed, as well:
The dinner was bright and gay from the very beginning, even before the first glass of champagne. It began with an optimistic view of the war, then, dropping the grave subject, they talked of people, theatres, books, and general gossip. [1]
"An optimistic view of the war": the novel seems to take place in the latter half of 1915, which is about as late as it would have been possible to continue to hold an optimistic view of the Great War. Bruce has been rejected from military service because of his "neurotic heart" and has remained at home, only to fall prey to fears of Zeppelin raids (London was first bombed on the night of 31 May 1915):
Bruce hated the war; but he didn't hate it for the sake of other people so much as for his own. . .He had great fear of losing his money, a great terror of Zeppelins; he gave way to his nerves instead of trying to control them. Edith knew his greatest wish would have been, had it been possible, to get right away from everything and go and live in Spain or America, or somewhere where he could hear no more about the war. . .that Bruce should feel like that did seem to Edith a little—contemptible. [2]
Love at Second Sight has a double meaning: it not only suggests a second chance at love, but characters who possess clairvoyance or foreknowledge. The character who claims these abilities is Madame Eglantine Frabelle, the rich, middle-aged widow of a French wine merchant who has come to England in order, we suspect, to escape wartime austerities and dangers in France.
Edith had not had the faintest idea of asking Madame Frabelle to stay at her very small house in Sloane Street, for which invitation, indeed, there seemed no possible need or occasion. Yet she found herself asking her visitor to stay for a few days until a house or a hotel should be found; and Bruce, who detested guests in the house, seconded the invitation with warmth and enthusiasm. . .Madame Frabelle accepted the invitation as a matter of course, made use of it as a matter of convenience, and had remained ever since, showing no sign of leaving. [3]
Madame Frabelle tells Edith, "I think I've a touch of second sight," and indeed, Bruce and Edith both come to depend on her intuition:
'She's a very clever woman,' said Bruce. 'I'm always interested when I hear what she has to say about people. I don't mind telling you that I'm nearly always guided by it.'
'So am I,' said Edith.
Indeed Edith did sincerely regard her opinion as very valuable. She found her so invariably wrong that she was quite a useful guide. She was never quite sure of her own judgement until Madame Frabelle had contradicted it. [4]
But there is a kind of second sight operating in the novel. Edith herself has sudden insights that will turn out to be prescient:
It flashed across Edith what an immense bond of sympathy it was between Bruce and Madame Frabelle that neither of them was burdened with the slightest sense of humour. [5]
And Edith is not the only one. Her friend and confidant, the composer Tito Landi, also immediately spots the affinity between Madame Frabelle and Bruce:
'Tiens, ma chère Edith, tu ne vois pas quelque chose?'
[My dear Edith, don’t you see something?]'What?'
. . .'Elle. La Mère Frabelle,' he laughed to himself. 'Elle est folle de ton mari!'
[She. Mother Frabelle. She's crazy about your husband!] [6]
II. Tito Landi, Paolo Tosti and the Beddingtons
Tito Landi is based on the composer Paolo Tosti, a family friend of the Beddingtons and later the Leversons. Ada's mother Zillah Beddington was an accomplished amateur pianist and invited many composers to her salons.
Ada Leverson's mother Zillah Beddington (née Simon) by Elliott & Fry. Albumen carte-de-visite, 1880s. NPG x76185. Image source: National Portrait Gallery, London.
According to Mosco Carner,
Tosti had settled in London about 1880 and became much sought after as a singing-teacher. He was music master to the Royal Family and one of his favourite pupils was Sybil Seligman, who is said to have had a contralto voice of exceptional beauty. [7]
Sybil Beddington Seligman was one of Ada's three younger sisters, all of whom probably took singing lessons from Tosti. Evelyn, the second Beddington daughter, "had a beautiful singing voice"; and "one or two of [Tosti's] songs were dedicated to her younger sister Violet," later Violet Schiff. The one exception to the singing Beddington sisters seems to have been Ada, who as she grew up "drew away from her mother's world of music." Not entirely, however: after her marriage to Ernest Leverson, Ada remained close to Tosti, who was a frequent visitor and performer at her home. [8]
Sir Francesco Paolo Tosti by Carlo de Marchi, Milano. Image source: Wikimedia Commons.
In Love at Second Sight there is a description of Landi performing at a dinner party which must draw on Ada's memories of Tosti:
With a laugh he got up, to loud applause, and went to the little white enamelled piano. There, with a long cigar in his mouth, he struck a few notes, and at once magnetised his audience. The mere touch of his fingers on the piano thrilled everyone present.
He sang a composition of his own, which even the piano-organ had never succeeded in making hackneyed, 'Adieu, Hiver,' and melodious as only Italian music can be. Blue beams flashed from his eyes; he seemed in a dream. Suddenly in the most impassioned part, which he was singing in a composer's voice, that is, hardly any voice, but with perfect art, he caught Madame Frabelle's eye, and gave her a solemn wink. She burst out laughing. He then went on singing with sentiment and grace.
All the women present imagined that he was making love to them, while each man felt that he, personally, was making love to his ideal woman. Such was the effect of Landi's music. It made the most material, even the most unmusical, remember some little romance, some tendresse, some sentiment of the past; Landi seemed to get at the soft spot in everybody's heart. All the audience looked dreamy. Edith was thinking of Aylmer Ross. Where was he now? Would she ever see him again? Had she been wise to throw away her happiness like that? [9]
The song Landi performs, "Adieu, Hiver" (Good-bye, winter), seems to be a fictionalized reference to Tosti's "Good-Bye"/"Addio," whose first verse in Italian concludes, "Estate, addio!" (Summer, good-bye!). Both its English and Italian versions became staples of drawing-room performances and later were frequently recorded. Among the singers who recorded the Italian version were Nellie Melba and Enrico Caruso; Emma Eames and John McCormack (and Deanna Durbin in the movie Because of Him (1946)) were among those who recorded the English version. Here is a modern performance of "Good-Bye" by the Australian-Italian tenor Aldo di Toro:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtfM-JRtRZQ
| "Good-Bye" |
| Music: Paolo Tosti Words: George John Whyte-Melville |
|
Falling leaf and fading tree, Lines of white in a sullen sea, Shadows rising on you and me; Shadows rising on you and me; The swallows are making them ready to fly, Wheeling out on a windy sky. Good-bye Summer! Good-bye! Good-bye! Good-bye Summer! Good-bye! Good-bye! Hush! a voice from the far away! "Listen and learn," it seems to say, "All the tomorrows shall be as today." "All the tomorrows shall be as today." The cord is frayed, the cruse is dry, The link must break, and the lamp must die— Good-bye to Hope! Good-bye! Good-bye! Good-bye to Hope! Good-bye! Good-bye! What are we waiting for? Oh, my heart! Kiss me straight on the brows! And part Again, again! my heart! my heart! What are we waiting for, you and I? A pleading look, a stifled cry. Good-bye, forever! Good-bye, forever! Good-bye! Good-bye, good-bye! |
If this sounds overwrought to our ears, it must have sounded very different to an audience who were sending their sons, husbands and sweethearts off to the trenches.
It is from those trenches that, unbeknownst to Edith, Aylmer has returned wounded; he is in his London house and is being nursed through a slow convalescence before he can rejoin his unit at the front. The stage is set for Edith and Aylmer's reunion and the reawakening of their mutual love.
Edith then faces the same crisis as in Tenterhooks: to break up her marriage and embrace the passion Aylmer offers, or to avoid scandal, remain faithful to Bruce, and live without love. But circumstances have changed: the war has brought home to Edith the uncertainty of the future and has made the opportunities of present happiness more precious. And Aylmer's wounding has forced her to recognize how deeply she still feels for him. As it turns out, others are also feeling the sense of recklessness inspired by the war. . .
III. After 1916
Portrait of Madame Josette Gris by Juan Gris, 1916. Image source: Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia
Love at Second Sight, published in the year Ada Leverson turned 54, was to be her last novel. It may be that she felt that the story of Edith and Bruce Ottley had reached its natural conclusion. Perhaps she also felt that the memories of her marriage and its crises had been exhaustively mined for her fiction.
But there is an additional possibility, which is that she may have felt estranged from the artistic currents and aesthetic sensibilities of the 1910s and 1920s. Characters based on prominent figures from the movements of the 1890s would run the risk of seeming dated, passé.
A conversation in Love at Second Sight may suggest something of Leverson's perspective:
'I should so very much like to know,' [Arthur Coniston] said, 'what your view is of the attitude to life of the Post-Impressionists.'
Aylmer smiled. He said: 'I think their attitude to life, as you call it, is best expressed in some of Lear's Nonsense Rhymes: "His Aunt Jobiska said, 'Everyone knows that a pobble is better without his toes.'"'
Archie looked up in smiling recognition of these lines, and Edith laughed.
'Excuse me, but I don't quite follow you,' said young Coniston gravely.
'Why, don't you see? Of course, Lear is the spirit they express. A portrait by a post-Impressionist is sure to be "A Dong with a luminous nose." And don't you remember, "The owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat"? Wouldn't a boat painted by a Post-Impressionist be pea-green?'
'Perfectly. I see that. But—why the pobble without its toes?'
'Why, the sculptor always surrenders colour, and the painted form. Each has to give up something for the limitation of art. But the more modern artist gives up much more—likeness, beauty, a few features here and there—a limb now and then.' [10]
It wasn't only contemporary visual art that she satirized. In 1919 she published a short sketch in The English Review entitled "Free Verse" that parodied modernist poetry:
"My dear old thing, you're out of date. Now, look at this."
Aubrey handed George a typed manuscript.
"This is a gem—a perfect, flawless poem, by one of the new chaps. Vers Libre, you know. Pull yourself together."
George read:
"INTENTION. I. I think of going to Eastbourne,
I must get some new clothes before I go
To Eastbourne.
I may get a green jumper.
Or some beads,
Or any old thing. . .
II. I know the Vicar slightly.
He may be nice to me and call on Sunday.
If he does I shall certainly
Say cheerio to the Blighter. . .""But isn't that. . ."
"How can you laugh, you ass? Don't you feel the quality of it? You don't imagine rhyme is necessary for a poem? Or sentimental slosh?"
"Of course not. I've heard of blank verse all right. But isn't this. . ."
"Don't you see the stylistic radiance of the thing? How the fellow has left out all the unessential?. . ."
"Oh, you mean about who the Vicar is and why he's likely to call. Rather, yes. I see that."
"Oh, you're hopeless. You don't understand."
"It doesn't seem obscure exactly."
"No. It's simple. Naive. That's its beauty. But you'll have to live with the thing a bit."
"Shall I?" said George.
. . ."Don't you see, George, the standard's changed—I mean in literature—and the chaps who were being made much of when you were here last are back numbers now? They don't exist."
. . ."What about those other fellows you told me about last time? Fellows who panted to knock you into the middle of next week?"
"Futurists? Passés."
"Now, look here. You've told me all about who's dead. Is there anyone alive?"
"Rather. Shoals and shoals. Not only new people. There's a man called Eliot. He's great. He counts."
"Ah, yes. George Eliot. . ." [11]
Over the next two years Leverson would go on to publish a short story, and a final dialogue featuring Aubrey and George, in The English Review. Poking fun at modernism was not calculated to endear her to the post-war generation, but she formed friendships with the Sitwell siblings Osbert, Edith, and Sacheverell, and urged the publication of their writings.
Ironically for someone who viewed modernist poetry as a source of humor, her last magazine piece, published in January 1926, appeared in T.S. Eliot's The Criterion. Bringing her writing career full circle, it was called "The Last First Night," and was a reminiscence of the opening night of Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest on 14 February 1895:
What a rippling, glittering, chattering crowd was that!. . .Whoever still lives who was present on that night will remember the continual ripple of laughter from the very first moment, the excitement, the strange almost hysterical joy with which was received this 'Trivial Comedy for Serious People.'. . .[Wilde] was on this evening at the zenith of his careless, genial career, beaming and filled with that euphoria that was curiously characteristic of him when he was not in actual grief or pain." [12]
Grief and pain would soon come; for more details, please see Ada Leverson, part 2: Friendship with Oscar Wilde.
"The Last First Night" became the central section of her final book, Letters to the Sphinx from Oscar Wilde, with Reminiscences of the Author, a slim volume of only 65 pages featuring her memories of Wilde followed by a brief selection of his correspondence with her. Of the first and only edition only 275 copies were printed; 25 were presentation copies, and 250 were sold.
Fortunately my library purchased one, and although it has seen some rough wear—the spine is beginning to separate from the back cover, the blue cloth of the cover is soiled, wrinkled and water-stained, and the ring where someone used the book as a coaster for their tea- or coffee cup is visible—the contents are still as crisply readable as the day it was published in 1930. Including, to my surprise and delight, the signature of Ada Leverson herself:
Ada Leverson died at the age of 70 on 30 August 1933. Her novels will likely never find a wide readership, but they will continue to be rediscovered for their keen wit, their picture of the predicaments of even privileged women who find themselves caught in incompatible marriages, and their glimpse into the brilliant Edwardian literary and artistic circles whose era was coming to an end.
Other posts in this series:
- Ada Leverson, part 4: Tenterhooks
- Ada Leverson, part 3: Love's Shadow
- Ada Leverson, part 2: Friendship with Oscar Wilde
- Ada Leverson, part 1: Edith and Bruce, the Little Ottleys
- Ada Leverson, Love at Second Sight (Grant Richards, 1916), Ch. V.
- Love at Second Sight, Ch. XXVII.
- Love at Second Sight, Ch. II.
- Love at Second Sight, Ch. IX.
- Love at Second Sight, Ch. III.
- Love at Second Sight, Ch. V.
- Mosco Carner, Puccini: A Critical Biography, Second Edition (Holmes & Meier, 1974), p. 148. Carner reports that it was at Tosti's London home in October 1905 that Sybil first met Giacomo Puccini. "She was passionately fond of opera, paid frequent visits to Italy, spoke fluent Italian and kept open house for visiting Italian artists." Puccini was then at the peak of his fame as the composer of Manon Lescaut (1893), La bohème (1896), Tosca (1900) and Madama Butterfly (1905), which had just received its London première in July 1905. Sybil and Puccini quickly embarked on a love affair that "with the years developed into one of the few genuine friendships which Puccini was able to form; it lasted to his death" (pp. 148-149).
- Violet Wyndham, The Sphinx and Her Circle: A Biographical Sketch of Ada Leverson, 1862-1933 (Vanguard, 1963), pp. 16 & 33. Violet Beddington would receive a proposal from the composer Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert and Sullivan) in 1896 when she was 22 and he was 54; she gently declined the offer. He wrote out a copy of his song "My Dearest Heart" for her. See David Usher, "In Search of Miss Violet," Cornell Savoyards Blog, 29 November 2012. https://cornellsavoyardsblog.blogspot.com/p/in-search-of-miss-violet.html
- Love at Second Sight, Ch. V.
- Love at Second Sight, Ch. XI. "His Aunt Jobiska said, 'Everyone knows that a pobble is better without his toes'": The actual lines are "And she said, 'It's a fact the whole world knows, / That Pobbles are happier without their toes.'" Edward Lear, Laughable Lyrics:
A Fourth Book of Nonsense Poems, Songs, Botany, Music, etc. (Robert John Bush, 1877). "A Dong with a luminous nose": Edward Lear, Laughable Lyrics. "The Owl and the Pussycat": Edward Lear, Nonsense songs, stories, botany, and alphabets (Robert John Bush, 1871). Laughable Lyrics: https://gutenberg.org/ebooks/13649; Nonsense Songs: https://gutenberg.org/ebooks/13647 - Ada Leverson, "Free Verse," The English Review, Vol. 29, December 1919, pp. 534-536. https://archive.org/details/sim_english-review-uk_1919-12_29/page/534/mode/2up?q=leverson&view=theater
- Ada Leverson, Letters to the Sphinx from Oscar Wilde, with Reminiscences of the Author (Duckworth, 1930), pp. 27, 30, 32.
No comments :
Post a Comment