Chapter 4

"As early as I could, at about the age of fifteen, I began to study singing, with a most excellent teacher; who was none other than Signor Wenceslao Persischini, who is now no longer living. He trained no fewer than seventy-four artists, of which I was the last. Battestini, that wonderful singer, whose voice to-day, at the age of sixty-five, is as remarkable as ever, is one of his pupils. We know that if a vocal teacher sings himself, and has faults, his pupils are bound to copy those faults instinctively and unconsciously. With Persischini this could not be the case; for, owing to some throat trouble, he was not able to sing at all. He could only whisper the tones he wanted, accompanying them with signs and facial grimaces." And Mr. De Luca illustrated these points in most amusing fashion. Then he continued:

"But he had unerring judgment, together with the finest ear. He knew perfectly how the tone should be sung and the student was obliged to do it exactly right and must keep at it till it was right. He would let nothing faulty pass without correction. I also had lessons in acting from Madame Marini, a very good teacher of the art.

THE ARTIST LIFE

"After five years of hard study I made my début at Piacenza, as Valentine, in _Faust_, November 6th, 1897. Then, you may remember, I came to the Metropolitan in the season of 1915-1916, where I have been singing continually ever since.

"The artist should have good health, that he may be always able to sing. He owes this to his public, to be always ready, never to disappoint. I think I have never disappointed an audience and have always been in good voice. It seems to me when one is no longer able to do one's best it is time to stop singing."

"It is because you study constantly and systematically that you are always in good voice."

"Yes, I am always at work. I rise at eight in the morning, not later. Vocalizes are never neglected. I often sing them as I take my bath. Some singers do not see the necessity of doing exercises every day; I am not one of those. I always sing my scales, first with full power, then taking each tone softly, swelling to full strength, then dying away--in mezza voce. I use many other exercises also--employing full power. English is also one of the daily studies, with lessons three times a week.

CONSTANTLY ON THE WATCH

"When singing a rôle, I am always listening--watching--to be conscious of just what I am doing. I am always criticizing myself. If a tone or a phrase does not sound quite correct to me as to placement, or production, I try to correct the fault at once. I can tell just how I am singing a tone or phrase by the feeling and sensation. Of course I cannot hear the full effect; no singer ever can actually hear the effect of his work, except on the records. There he can learn, for the first time, just how his voice sounds.

LEARNING A NEW RÔLE

"How do I begin a new part? I first read over the words and try to get a general idea of their meaning, and how I would express the ideas. I try over the arias and get an idea of those. Then comes the real work--the memorizing and working out the conception. I first commit the words, and know them so well I can write them out. Next I join them to the music. So far I have worked by myself. After this much has been done, I call in the accompanist, as I do not play the piano very well; that is to say, my right hand will go but the left lags behind!

ALWAYS BEING SURE OF THE WORDS

"Yes, as you say, it requires constant study to keep the various rôles in review, especially at the Metropolitan, where the operas are changed from day to day. Of course at performance the prompter is always there to give the cue--yet the words must always be in mind. I have never yet forgotten a word or phrase. On one occasion--it was in the _Damnation of Faust_, a part I had already sung a number of times--I thought of a word that was coming, and seemed utterly unable to remember it. I grew quite cold with fear--I am inclined to be a little nervous anyway--but it was quite impossible to think of the word. Luckily at the moment when I needed the word I was so fearful about, it suddenly came to me.

NATURAL ANXIETY

"Of course there is always anxiety for the artist with every public appearance. There is so much responsibility--one must always be at one's best; and the responsibility increases as one advances, and begins to realize more and more keenly how much is expected and what depends on one's efforts. I can assure you we all feel this, from the least to the greatest. The most famous singers perhaps suffer most keenly.

"I have always sung in Italian opera, in which the language is easy for me. Latterly I have added French operas to my list. _Samson and Delilah_, which I had always done in Italian, I had to relearn in French; this for me was very difficult. I worked a long time on it, but mastered it at last.

"This is my twenty-second season in opera. I have a repertoire of about one hundred and twenty rôles, in most of which I have sung many times in Italy. Some I wish might be brought out at the Metropolitan. Verdi's _Don Carlos_, for instance, has a beautiful baritone part; it is really one of the fine operas, though it might be considered a bit old-fashioned to-day. Still I think it would be a success here. I am preparing several new parts for this season; one of them is the Tschaikowsky work--_Eugene Onegin_. So you see I am constantly at work.

"My favorite operas? I think they are these"; and Mr. De Luca hastily jotted down the following: _Don Carlos, Don Giovanni, Hamlet, Rigoletto, Barbier, Damnation of Faust_, and last, but not least, _Tannhauser_.

GROWTH OF MUSICAL APPRECIATION IN AMERICA

Asked if he considered appreciation for music had advanced during his residence in America, his answer was emphatically in the affirmative.

"The other evening I attended a reception of representative American society, among whom were many frequenters of the Metropolitan. Many of them spoke to me of the opera _Marouf_. I was surprised, for this modern French opera belongs to the new idiom, and is difficult to understand. 'Do you really like the music of _Marouf_?' I asked. 'Oh, yes indeed,' every one said. It is one of my longest parts, but not one of my special favorites.

"In the summer! Ah, I go back to my beloved Italy almost as soon as the Metropolitan season closes. I could sing in Buenos Aires, as the season there follows the one here. But I prefer to rest the whole time until I return. I feel the singer needs a period of rest each year. To show you how necessary it is for the singer to do daily work on the voice, I almost feel I cannot sing at all during the summer, as I do no practicing, and without vocalizes one cannot keep in trim. If I am asked to sing during vacation, I generally refuse. I tell them I cannot sing, for I do not practice. It takes me a little while after I return, to get the vocal apparatus in shape again.

"Thus it means constant study, eternal vigilance to attain the goal, then to hold what you have attained and advance beyond it if possible."

VII

=LUISA TETRAZZINI=

THE COLORATURA VOICE

Luisa Tetrazzini has been called the greatest exponent of coloratura singing that we have at the present time. Her phenomenal successes in various quarters of the globe, where she has been heard in both opera and concert, are well known, and form pages of musical history, full of interest. This remarkable voice, of exquisite quality and development, is another proof that we have as beautiful voices to-day, if we will but realize the fact, as were ever known or heard of in the days of famous Italian songsters.

Portraits often belie the artist, by accentuating, unduly, some individuality of face or figure, and Tetrazzini is no exception. From her pictures one would expect to find one of the imperious, dominating order of prima donnas of the old school. When I met the diva, I was at once struck by the simplicity of her appearance and attire. There was nothing pompous about her; she did not carry herself with the air of one conscious of possessing something admired and sought after by all the world, something which set her on a high pedestal apart from other singers. Not at all. I saw a little lady of plump, comfortable figure, a face which beamed with kindliness and good humor, a mouth wreathed with smiles. Her manner and speech were equally simple and cordial, so that the visitor was put at ease at once, and felt she had known the great singer for years.

Before the conference could begin a pretty episode happened, which showed the human side of the singer's character, and gave a glimpse into her every day life. Mme. Tetrazzini was a little late for her appointment, as she had been out on a shopping expedition, an occupation which she greatly enjoys. Awaiting her return was a group of photographers, who had arranged their apparatus, mirrors and flash-light screen, even to the piano stool on which the singer was to be placed. She took in the situation at a glance, as she entered, and obediently gave herself into the hands of the picture makers.

"Ah, you wish to make me beautiful," she exclaimed, with her pretty accent; "I am not beautiful, but you may try to make me look so." With patience she assumed the required poses, put her head on this side or that, drew her furs closer about her or allowed them to fall away from the white throat, with its single string of pearls. The onlooker suggested she be snapped with a little black "Pom," who had found his way into the room and was now an interested spectator, on his vantage ground, a big sofa. So little "Joy" was gathered up and held in affectionate, motherly arms, close against his mistress' face. It was all very human and natural, and gave another side to the singer's character from the side she shows to the public.

At last the ordeal was over, and Madame was free to leave her post and sit in one of the arm chairs, where she could be a little more comfortable. The secretary was also near, to be appealed to when she could not make herself intelligible in English. "My English is very bad," she protested; "I have not the time now to learn it properly; that is why I speak it so very bad. In the summer, or next year, I will really learn it. Now, what is it I can tell you? I am ready."

FOR THE DÉBUTANTE

To ask such a natural born singer how she studies and works, is like asking the fish swimming about in the ocean, to tell you where is the sea! She could not tell you how she does it. Singing is as the breath of life to Tetrazzini--as natural as the air she breathes. Realizing this, I began at the other end.

"What message have you, Madame, for the young singer, who desires to make a career?"

"Ah, yes, the débutante. Tell her she must practice much--very much--" and Madame spread out her hands to indicate it was a large subject; "she must practice several hours every day. I had to practice very much when I began my study--when I was sixteen; but now I do not have to spend much time on scales and exercises; they pretty well go of themselves"; and she smiled sweetly.

"You say," she continued, "the débutante--the young singer--does not know--in America--how much she needs the foreign languages. But she should learn them. She should study French, Italian and Spanish, and know how to speak them. Because, if she should travel to those countries, she must make herself understood, and she must be able to sing in those languages, too.

"Besides the languages, it is very good for her to study piano also; she need not know it so well as if she would be a pianist, but she should know it a little; yet it is better to know more of the piano--it will make her a better musician."

THE COLORATURA VOICE

"You love the coloratura music, do you not, Madame?"

"Ah, yes, I love the coloratura,--it suits me; I have always studied for that--I know all the old Italian operas. For the coloratura music you must make the voice sound high and sweet--like a bird--singing and soaring. You think my voice sounds something like Patti's? Maybe. She said so herself. Ah, Patti was my dear friend--my very dear friend--I loved her dearly. She only sang the coloratura music, though she loved Wagner and dramatic music. Not long before she died she said to me: 'Luisa, always keep to the coloratura music, and the beautiful _bel canto_ singing; do nothing to strain your voice; preserve its velvety quality.' Patti's voice went to C sharp, in later years; mine has several tones higher. In the great aria in Lucia, she used to substitute a trill at the end instead of the top notes; but she said to me--'Luisa, _you_ can sing the high notes!'"

"Then the breathing, Madame, what would you say of that?"

"Ah, the breathing, that is very important indeed. You must breathe from here, you know--what you call it--from the diaphragm, and from both sides; it is like a bellows, going in and out," and she touched the portions referred to. "One does not sing from the chest,--that would make queer, harsh tones." She sang a few tones just to show how harsh they would be.

"You have shown such wonderful breath control in the way you sustain high tones, beginning them softly, swelling then diminishing them."

"Ah, yes, the coloratura voice must always be able to do those things," was the answer.

"Should you ever care to become a dramatic singer?" she was asked.

Tetrazzini grew thoughtful; "No, I do not think so," she said, after a pause; "I love my coloratura music, and I think my audience likes it too; it goes to the heart--it is all melody, and that is what people like. I sing lyric music also--I am fond of that."

"Yes, and you sing songs in English, with such good diction, that we can all understand you--almost every word."

Madame beamed.

"I promise you I will learn English better next year; for I shall come back to my friends in America next autumn. I shall be in Italy in the summer. I have two homes over there, one in Italy and one in Switzerland.

"Do I prefer to sing in opera or concert, you ask? I believe I like concert much better, for many reasons. I get nearer to the audience; I am freer--much freer, and can be myself and not some other person. There is no change of costume, either; I wear one gown, so it is easier; yes, I like it much more.

"In traveling over your big country--you see I have just been out to California and back--I find your people have advanced so very much in appreciation of music; you know so much more than when I was here before; that was indeed a long time ago--about twelve years,--" and Madame made a pretty little gesture.

"But in one way your great big country has scarcely advanced any if at all; you have not advanced in providing opera for your music lovers. You need permanent opera companies in all the larger cities. The opera companies of New York and Chicago are fine, oh yes,--but they cannot give opera to the whole country. There are a few traveling companies too, which are good. But what are they in your big country? You should have opera stock companies all over, which would give opera for the people. Then your fine American girls would have the chance to gain operatic experience in their own country, which they cannot get now. That is why the foreign singer has such a chance here, and that is why the native singer can hardly get a chance. All the American girls' eyes turn with longing to the Metropolitan Opera House; and with the best intentions in the world the Director can only engage a small number of those he would like to have, because he has no room for them. He can not help it. So I say, that while your people have grown so much in the liking and in the understanding of music, you do not grow on this side, because your young singers are obliged to travel to a foreign land to get the practice in opera they are unable to get at home. You need to do more for the permanent establishing of opera in the large and small cities of your country."

Madame did not express her thoughts quite as consecutively as I have set them down, but I am sure she will approve, as these are her ideas of the musical situation in this country.

As I listened to the words of this "second Patti," as she is called, and learned of her kindly deeds, I was as much impressed by her kindness of heart as I had been by her beautiful art of song. She does much to relieve poverty and suffering wherever she finds it. As a result of her "vocal mastery," she has been able to found a hospital in Italy for victims of tuberculosis, which accommodates between three and four hundred patients. The whole institution is maintained from her own private income. During the war she generously gave of her time and art to sing for the soldiers and aided the cause of the Allies and the Red Cross whenever possible. For her labors of love in this direction, she has the distinction of being decorated by a special gold medal of honor, by both the French and Italian Governments; a distinction only conferred on two others beside herself.

After our conference, I thanked her for giving me an hour from her crowded day. She took my hand and pressed it warmly in both hers.

"Please do not quite forget me, Madame."

"Indeed not, will you forget me?"

"No, I shall always remember this delightful hour."

"Then, you see, I cannot forget you!" and she gave my hand a parting squeeze.

VIII

=ANTONIO SCOTTI=

TRAINING AMERICAN SINGERS FOR OPERA

A singer of finished art and ripe experience is Antonio Scotti. His operatic career has been rich in development, and he stands to-day at the top of the ladder, as one of the most admired dramatic baritones of our time.

One of Naples' sons, he made a first appearance on the stage at Malta, in 1889. Successful engagements in Milan, Rome, Madrid, Russia and Buenos Aires followed. In 1899 he came to London, singing _Don Giovanni_ at Covent Garden. A few months thereafter, he came to New York and began his first season at the Metropolitan. His vocal and histrionic gifts won instant recognition here and for the past twenty years he has been one of the most dependable artists of each regular season.

CHARACTERIZATION

With all his varied endowments, it seldom or never falls to the lot of a baritone to impersonate the lover; on the contrary it seems to be his métier to portray the villain. Scotti has been forced to hide his true personality behind the mask of a Scarpia, a Tonio, an Iago, and last but not least, the most repulsive yet subtle of all his villains--Chim-Fang, in _L'Oracolo_. Perhaps the most famous of them all is Scarpia. But what a Scarpia, the quintessence of the polished, elegant knave! The refinement of Mr. Scotti's art gives to each rôle distinct characteristics which separate it from all the others.

OPPORTUNITY FOR THE AMERICAN SINGER

Mr. Scotti has done and is doing much for the young American singer, by not only drilling the inexperienced ones, but also by giving them opportunity to appear in opera on tour. To begin this enterprise, the great baritone turned impresario, engaged a company of young singers, most of them Americans, and, when his season at the Metropolitan was at an end, took this company, at his own expense, on a southern trip, giving opera in many cities.

Discussing his venture on one occasion, Mr. Scotti said:

"It was an experiment in several ways. First, I had an all-American company, which was indeed an experiment. I had some fine artists in the principal rôles, with lesser known ones in smaller parts. With these I worked personally, teaching them how to act, thus preparing them for further career in the field of opera. I like to work with the younger and less experienced ones, for it gives me real pleasure to watch how they improve, when they have the opportunity.

"Of course I am obliged to choose my material carefully, for many more apply for places than I can ever accept.

ITALIAN OPERA IN AMERICA

"So closely is Italy identified with all that pertains to opera," he continued, "that the question of the future of Italian opera in America interests me immensely. It has been my privilege to devote some of the best years of my life to singing in Italian opera in this wonderful country of yours. One is continually impressed with the great advance America has made and is making along all musical lines. It is marvelous, though you who live here may not be awake to the fact. Musicians in Europe and other parts of the world, who have never been here, can form no conception of the musical activities here.

"It is very gratifying to me, as an Italian, to realize that the operatic compositions of my country must play an important part in the future of American musical art. It seems to me there is more intrinsic value--more variety in the works of modern Italian composers than in those of other nations. We know the operas of Mozart are largely founded on Italian models.

"Of the great modern Italian composers, I feel that Puccini is the most important, because he has a more intimate appreciation of theatrical values. He seems to know just what kind of music will fit a series of words or a scene, which will best bring out the dramatic sense. Montemezzi is also very great in this respect. This in no way detracts from what Mascagni, Leoncavallo and others have accomplished. It is only my personal estimate of Puccini as a composer. The two most popular operas to-day are _Aïda_ and _Madame Butterfly_, and they will always draw large audiences, although American people are prone to attend the opera for the purpose of hearing some particular singer and not for the sake of the work of the composer. In other countries this is not so often the case. We must hope this condition will be overcome in due time, for the reason that it now often happens that good performances are missed by the public who are only attracted when some much heralded celebrity sings."

AMERICAN COMPOSERS

Asked for his views regarding American operatic composers, Mr. Scotti said:

"American composers often spoil their chances of success by selecting uninteresting and uninspired stories, which either describe some doleful historic incident or illustrate some Indian legend, in which no one of to-day is interested, and which is so far removed from actual life that it becomes at once artificial, academic and preposterous. Puccini spends years searching for suitable librettos, as great composers have always done. When he finds a story that is worthy he turns it into an opera. But he will wait till he discovers the right kind of a plot. No wonder he has success. In writing modern music dramas, as all young Americans endeavor to do, they will never be successful unless they are careful to pick out really dramatic stories to set to music."

OPERATIC TRAINING

On a certain occasion I had an opportunity to confer with this popular baritone, and learn more in regard to his experiences as impresario. This meeting was held in the little back office of the Metropolitan, a tiny spot, which should be--and doubtless is--dear to every member of the company. Those four walls, if they would speak, could tell many interesting stories of singers and musicians, famed in the world of art and letters, who daily pass through its doors, or sit chatting on its worn leather-covered benches, exchanging views on this performance or that, or on the desirability or difficulty of certain rôles. Even while we were in earnest conference, Director Gatti-Casazza passed through the room, stopping long enough to say a pleasant word and offer a clasp of the hand. Mr. Guard, too, flitted by in haste, but had time to give a friendly greeting.