We often hear the trite expression, "Singers are born, not made." This,
to my mind, is by no means the case. One may be born with the talent and
deep love for music, and one may be born with the physical
qualifications which lead to the development of a beautiful voice, but
the singer is something far more than this. Given a good voice and the
love for his music, the singer's work is only begun. He is at the
outstart of a road which is beset with all imaginable kinds of
obstacles. In my own case I was extremely ambitious to be a singer.
Night after night I played 'cello in the orchestra at La Scala, in
Milan, always wishing and praying that I might some day be one of the
actors in the wonderful world behind the footlights. I listened to the
famous singers in the great opera house with the minutest attention,
making mental notes of their manner of placing their voices--their
method of interpretation, their stage business, and everything that I
thought might be of any possible use to me in the career of the singer,
which was dearest to my heart. I endeavored to employ all the common
sense and good judgment I possessed to determine what was musically and
vocally good or otherwise. I was fortunate in having the training of the
musician, and also in having the invaluable advantage of becoming
acquainted with the orchestral scores of the famous operas. Finally the
long-awaited opportunity came and I made my debut at the Teatro dal
Verme, in Milan. I had had no real vocal instruction in the commonly
accepted sense of the term; but I had really had a kind of instruction
that was of inestimable value.