My professional vocation has brought me up against almost every conceivable superstition, from Brignoli's stuffed deer's head to the more commonplace fetish against thirteen as a number. But I never saw any one more obsessed by an idea of this sort than Christine Nilsson. She actually would not sing unless some one "held her thumbs" first. "Holding thumbs" is quite an ancient way of inviting good luck. One promises to "hold one's thumbs" for a friend who is going through some ordeal, like a first night or an operation for appendicitis or a wedding or anything else desperate. Nilsson was the first person I ever knew who practised the charm the other way about. Before she would even go on the stage somebody, if only the stage carpenter, had to take hold of her two thumbs and press them. She was convinced that the mystic rite brought her good fortune. Many of the Italian artists that I knew believed in the efficacy of coral as a talisman and always kept a bit of it about them to rub "for luck" just before they went on for their part of the performance. Somebody has told me that Emma Trentini had a queer individual superstition: when she was singing for Hammerstein she would never go on the stage until he had given her a quarter of a dollar! Ridiculous as all these _idées fixes_ appear when writing them down, I am convinced that they do help some people. A sense of confidence is a great, an invaluable thing, and whatever can bring that about must necessarily, however foolish in itself, make for a measure of success. I caught Nilsson's "holding thumbs" trick myself without ever believing in it, and often have done it to people since in a sort of general luck-wishing, friendly spirit. The last time I was in Algiers I entered an antique shop that I always visit there and found the little woman who kept it in a somewhat indisposed and depressed state of mind:--so much so in fact that when I left I pinched her thumbs for luck. Not long afterwards I had the sweetest letter from her. "I cannot thank you enough," she wrote; "you did something--whatever it was--that has brought me luck. I feel sure it is all through you!" To return to my mother's diary after our first performance of _Traviata_ in London: _Sunday._ Sat around. Afternoon drove through Hyde Park. _Monday 6th._ Rehearsal of _Gazza Ladra_. I went all over to find dress for Linda--failed. _Tuesday._ Moved out to 48 Grove End Road--8 guineas a week. Received check on County Bank from Mapleson for £100. Drew the money. _Wednesday 8th._ Heard rehearsal of _Gazza Ladra_. Remained in theatre till 5.25 P.M. fitting costume. Rode home in 22 minutes. _Thursday 9th._ Saw Linda. Magnificent. Best thing. Called out three times. Bouquet--dress--yellow. _Moire_ blue satin apron--pink roses--gay!