father, undefeated, resolved to organize a benefit concert to cover the expense of European musical training for me. “Emma has nothing left to learn from me,” he said. “She must study under the most reputable music teachers and she must have a scholarship to do it.”
Papa worked tirelessly to put this project into action, while still teaching at the convent. I continued my own musical instruction with him. I was not always a model pupil, however; I liked playing tricks too much. There had to be some fun in my life, after all! In spite of this, I was turning into a well-behaved and accomplished young miss with my sights set on a spectacular career. My sister Cornélia was progressing too, following her own musical path.
Finally, on September 13, 1862, La Minerve advertised “a musical evening to assist the Lajeunesse sisters in financing their trip to Paris, where they will study at the Conservatoire.”
The concert was held at the Mechanics' Hall in Montreal, under the auspices of the civil and military authorities. I performed on the piano and the harp and sang some of my compositions, accompanied by Nelly on the piano; my voice range was from mezzo-soprano to soprano in those songs. The next day, a newspaper reporter described my voice as that of “an exile from heaven.” “We are proud,” added the writer, “that this young woman is a daughter of our native land. We predict an international career for her.”
Because of unwelcome interference from the Catholic Church, Papa was unable to gather the necessary funds. L'Ordre, the influential press organ of the clergy, had expressed the censorious opinion that “long voyages, particularly the wandering existence of performers, are pernicious. Emma Lajeunesse is known to be an innocent and pious soul: must we allow her to be exposed to this peril?”
My father was furious and considered emigrating back to the United States. However, one of his friends, the brilliant lawyer and politician Ludger Labelle, organized a benefit concert that drew a large number of music-lovers. Although the money raised was insufficient for our European plans, it did allow Cornélia and me to go to try our luck south of the border. We were obliged to leave our cherished convent to go into the wide world; it was the only alternative if we wanted to go further in music.
Thus, the following year, Papa, Cornélia, and I found ourselves in Saratoga Springs, an elegant watering hole for the rich in upper New York State. It was in the United States that our hopes were realized and my career took off in a definite manner. The American public was fascinated by “the young prima donna” named Emma Lajeunesse.
As soon as we settled in, a concert was organized at Rand's Hall, with Cornélia as my accompanist. The hall was packed. My programme included arias by Rossini and Verdi, The Last Rose of Summer (the beautiful Irish song arranged by Sigismond Thalberg), and an aria from the romantic opera, Martha, by Friedrich von Flotow. The comments published the next morning in the Troy Daily Times were eloquent: “She warbles with the perfect naturalness of a bird.”
In Albany, not far from Saratoga, I sang at a military gala attended by State Governor Sydney, several senators, and a crowd of four thousand spectators.
In Johnstown, fifty miles northwest of Albany, Cornélia and I performed together at a charity benefit: we both played the piano and sang duets, Nelly in her charming contralto voice. Each of us was given a star-shaped brooch, with wishes that we would become equally brilliant stars!
Soon after, at the consecration of Albany's new bishop, John J. Conroy, I sang Johann Hummel's motet,1 Alma Virgo.
We remained in Albany, where I became first soprano soloist at St. Joseph's, Bishop Conroy's church. It was there that I learned to sing masses by Mozart, Cherubini, and Beethoven. The church administrators had found a good thing: I was young – and therefore cost them very little – and I sang beautifully in Latin, Italian, German, French, Russian, and English, as well as in the Irish and Scottish styles. Moreover, I could play the organ, and the one at St. Joseph's was considered the second best in the whole country. I was really too slight for this colossal instrument, but I managed well enough. I also directed the church choir and composed music for it! I carried out these duties at St. Joseph's until 1868; it was an ideal training ground that helped me become one of the most appreciated oratorio singers in England many years later. The Catholic churchgoers of Albany took me to their hearts. When the altar of a new chapel was consecrated in January 1867, they came in huge numbers to hear me sing.
On that occasion, Maurice Strakosch,2 the impresario from New York City, was present. He had come to Albany with Pasquale Brignoli, the tenor who had sung the role of Alfredo when Verdi's La traviata was introduced to the American public in 1856. Meeting my father, they told him: “Your daughter has the voice of an angel. She possesses a rare talent and genius.”
This inspired Papa to approach Bishop Conroy and express his fervent wish that something be done to obtain the financial means for me to study music in Europe. The Bishop agreed, and entrusted the organization of two benefit concerts to the wife of a well-known Albany notary.
The music-loving prelate was in the audience for the second of these concerts, together with all the notables of the capital, all of them brimming with pride for “their girl from Albany.” Quebec had never seemed so far away! I recall my father's voice, swelling with emotion as he announced to the cheering audience that after many years of struggle, his daughter could finally leave for Europe to study with the best teachers obtainable.
The notary's wife presented us with gifts and a cheque for three hundred dollars; it was the first time my father had ever seen such a sum. This amount, added to our savings, was enough for my great departure, after nine years of hopes and disappointments. I was twenty-one but still looked like an adolescent due to my extreme slimness.
A young man named David Turner, whom I had noticed several times at concerts and receptions, was not put off by my childlike appearance. He asked to meet me, together with Cornélia, at a tearoom. I was wary of his intentions, and pleading a headache, stayed at home. I asked Nelly to go without me and to apologize for my indisposition, which she was only too willing to do.
Mr. Turner tried to hide his disappointment from my sister, but in spite of his good manners, he couldn't stop talking about me throughout their tête-à-tête. Nelly was taken aback when he declared that he had two passions in life: music, and Emma Lajeunesse.
He repeated his invitation to me. In the end, I agreed to go for a walk with him along the bank of the Hudson. He confessed his love for me and begged me to marry him. He told me that he was an amateur violinist and had formed a chamber music group with his friends; he promised that he would share my love of music if I were his wife. However, nothing he said could make me waver in my firm resolve to pursue my career abroad.
A second request for my hand was forthcoming, this time from an older, well-established Albany factory-owner, who offered me a comfortable life. I turned down this proposal as well, for the same reason that I had refused the more attractive Mr. Turner.
The rejected businessman was not entirely disheartened: “I am sorry, as I am very much in love with you. However, I will donate to your scholarship fund, in the hope that you will allow me to visit you in Paris.”
“I am most grateful,” I replied, “and will look forward to seeing you there.”
I fully believed Papa when he said: “It would be absurd for you to become the wife of a rich industrialist when you are only interested in singing. You're not made for marriage.” Cornélia's view was the opposite: “You're mad, Emma! He's a wonderful man who would have made you happy and given you security. I would have accepted in a minute!”
I felt no regret over my decision. I told one of my friends: “I have a feeling inside that must be expressed; something more that I must accomplish. I cannot resist the urge.”
By the end of 1868, I was ready to embark for Europe. Cornélia was to accompany me; even though the money we had raised was not enough for her to continue her own studies, it was unthinkable that a well-brought-up young lady should travel alone. Besides, Nelly was happy and excited at the prospect of coming along. We crossed the Atlantic to Southampton aboard the Great