Mme. Lehmann seated herself at the piano and asked for scales and
vocalizes. The young girl, either from fright or poor training, did not
make a very fortunate impression. She could not seem to bring out a
single pure steady tone, much less sing scales acceptably.
Madame with a resigned look finally asked for a song, which was given.
It was a little song of Franz, I remember. Then Lehmann wheeled around
on the stool and said to us, in German:
"The girl cannot sing--she has little or no voice to begin with, and has
not been rightly trained." Then to the young girl she said, kindly, in
English:
"My dear young lady, you have almost everything to learn about singing,
for as yet you cannot even sing one tone correctly; you cannot even
speak correctly. First of all you need physical development; you must
broaden your chest through breathing exercises; you are too thin
chested. You must become physically stronger if you ever hope to sing
acceptably. Then you must study diction and languages. This is
absolutely necessary for the singer. Above all you must know how to
pronounce and sing in your own language. So many do not think it
necessary to study their own language; they think they know that
already; but one's mother tongue requires study as well as any other
language.
"The trouble with American girls is they are always in a hurry. They are
not content to sit down quietly and study till they have developed
themselves into something before they ever think of coming to Europe.
They think if they can just come over here and sing for an artist, that
fact alone will give them prestige in America. But that gives them quite
the opposite reputation over here. American girls are too often looked
upon as superficial, because they come over here quite unprepared. I say
to all of them, as I say to you: Go home and study; there are plenty of
good teachers of voice and piano in your own land. Then, when you can
_sing_, come over here, if you wish; but do not come until you are
prepared."
After this little episode, we continued our talk for a while longer.
Then, fearing to trespass on her time, we rose to leave. She came to the
door with us, followed us down the steps into the front garden, and held
the gate open for us, when we finally left. We had already expressed the
hope that she might be able to return to America, at no very distant
day, and repeat her former triumphs there. Her fine face lighted at the
thought, and her last words to us were, as she held open the little iron
wicket. "I have a great desire to go to your country again; perhaps, in
a year or two--who knows--I may be able to do it."
She stood there, a noble, commanding figure, framed in the green of her
garden, and waved her handkerchief, till our cab turned a corner, and
she was lost to our view.