Fifty-Five Separates From 25

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 744, 17 August 1929, Page 20

Fifty-Five Separates From 25

Luisa Tetrazzini, World-Famous Diva, in Clash of Temperaments . . . Kings and Princes Sent Gifts to Singer on Occasion of Her Wedding . . .

.4 marriage that was of international interest, the union of Madame Tetrazzini, the greatest, of sopranos. and a young man very ynurh her junior, has brought unhappiness. It is a case of a clash of temperaments.

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'TER less than two and a-half years of married life with a man 20 years her junior Madame Luisa Tetraz-

zinl, the world’s greatfest soprano, has obtained in the courts at Rome a judicial separation on the grounds of the incompatibility of their tempers and interests. Madame Tetrazzini, as she will always be known, is now in her 55th year. Her first husband was M. Bazelli, a Rumanian; her second was Signor Pietro Vernati, an Italian, a son of a rich family owning a great number of shops. Apparently the union of art and commerce proved unfortunate, although it. must not be forgotten that Tetrazzini's art had its commercial Bide and value, for in her autobiography, “My Life of Song,” the great Boprano revealed that up to that date, 3921, she had earned more than a million pounds. This was not the first time the famous diva had been in an Italian court. She was tried by the city magistrates at Milan in 1920, but she had ho difficulty in refuting it, although the publicity thrown on her adventure was far from pleasant. Wanted £15,000 Four years before that date, and when she was 43 years of age, Madame Tetrazzini met at Milan a good-look-ing motor-driver named Umberto Tato, who was less than 30 years of age. In the Milan court Tato was charged with misconduct, his wife claiming £15,000 damages from him and the singer. Madame Tetrazzini did not appear in person, but the court heard the evidence of a number of witnesses who alleged that they had seen the couple together in many hotels and smart villas on the Lake of Lugano, Madame Tetrazzini was alleged to have been terribly jealous of Tato, nud to have threatened him with a revolver on one occasion because she thought he was paying too much attention to good-looking maidservants. The prosecutor demanded that both Madame Tetrazzini and Tato should be sent to prison for some months, but the court found that the charges had not been made out, and acquitted the defendants.

Madame Tetrazzini's second marriage, at the age of 52, was one of tho most amazing ever celebrated. Kings and queens, princes and princesses, and the Pope sent gifts, and the church at Rome was surrounded by great crowds.

She wore a dress of mauve silk, with a tinsel head-dress which gleamed like diamonds in the sunshine. It was a country’s greeting to its most famous daughter, for Madame Tetrazzini was born in Florence. Throughout the ceremony the bride clasped in her hands a rosary—a wedding gift from the Pope. Why She Shingled The civil ceremony necessitated by Italian custom was celebrated in the evening In the great hall at the Capitol, and was attended by representatives of the King of Italy, the Prefect of Florence, generals, Fascist chiefs, and notabilities from all over the world. Afterwards, at a great recep-

tion in the Hotel Savoia, Tetrazzini - sang to her guests. l Four rooms of her suite in the hotel 1 were filled to overflowing with wed- 1 ding presents which were guarded day and night by special detectives. Among those gifts was a superb silver ’ vase from the King of Italy, a beautiful tea service from the Queen of Italy, and presents from the King and Queen of the Belgians, the King and Queen of Spain, and Mussolini, as well as a special present from the ex-

Kaiser, who had heard Tetrazzini sing many times.

The honeymoon, which lasted a month, was spent in Perugia, Pisa, and Rome, after which Tetrazzini set out on a world tour that was a triumphal progress. When she visited London again, only a few months ago. her admirers were surprised to find that she had had her hair shingled. She declared that she had done this, after standing out against the fashion for many years, because her husband liked shingled hair. Madame Tetrazzini has a full share of the impulsiveness that is supposed to be characteristic of most artists. In 1922, when staying at a famous London hotel, she delighted the guests by singing to them during the Yuletide festivities, and later on, when all the visitors had gone, she called the Italian waiters and cooks together and sang the soprano arias from “La Traviata” to them.'

On another occasion she sang, while in her bath, to an audience of one—a Manchester journalist, who had called at her hotel hoping to inter-

view her. She was not in her rooms, but from an adjoining apartment there came the sound of splashing and running water. An official knocked on the door and then announced the caller. “It is very good of the gentleman to come,” Madame Tetrazzini replied, “but it is too early, too early, I am in my bath, but let him stand there and £ will sing to him.” And while the journalist waited she sang a Neapolitan ballad.