"The Metropolitan is one of the greatest opera houses in the world--but
it is only _one_. You have a wonderful country, yet most of its cities
must do without opera. Do not forget that in Italy every city and town
has its opera house and its season of opera, lasting ten weeks or more.
Of course the works are not elaborately produced, the singers may not be
so great or high-salaried, but the people are being educated to know and
love the best opera music. Performances are given Wednesdays and
Thursdays, Saturdays and Sundays; the singers resting the days between.
They need to as they are obliged to sing at every performance.
"Ah, if you would follow some such plan in America! It would create a
great love for good music in the smaller cities and towns where people
hear so little, and so seldom this kind of music. You do so much for
music in every other style, but not for opera. Of course I must except
the half dozen cities large enough and rich enough to be favored with a
season of extended operatic performances; these are the real music
centers of your country.
"I will show you what we do for opera in Italy. Here is an Italian
musical journal, which I have just received." Mr. Martinelli took up a
single-sheet newspaper which lay upon his desk. "You will find all the
large cities and most of the small ones reported here. Accordingly,
accounts are given of what works are being performed, what artists are
singing and where, and how long each season will last. Thus we can
glance over the whole field and keep in touch with every singer.
Naturally, the time and length of the seasons of performance differ
widely in the different places. Thus a singer of reputation can make
engagements in various places, then go from one town to another in a
complete tour, without conflicting.
"I have had the pleasure of singing a number of seasons at the
Metropolitan. During the summer I do not always go back to Italy when
the season is over here; last year I sang in Buenos Aires. This keeps
me at work the whole year. Buenos Aires is a beautiful city, and reminds
one of Milan. Yes, I like New York. It is more commercial, of course,
but I have grown accustomed to that side of it."
As the visitor was leaving, courteously conducted through the corridor
by Mr. Martinelli, a small chariot was encountered, crammed with dolls
and toys, the whole belonging to little Miss Martinelli, aged eleven
months.
"Shall you make a singer of the little lady?" the artist was asked.
"Ah, no; one singer in a family is enough," was the quick response. "But
who can tell? It may so happen, after all."