Finally the time came for my debut in 1899. It was a most serious
occasion for me; for the rest of my career as a singer depended upon it.
It was in Rouen, and my fee was to be fifteen hundred francs a month. I
thought that that would make me the richest man in the world. It was the
custom of the town for the captain of the police to come before the
audience at the end and inquire whether the audience approved of the
artist's singing or whether their vocal efforts were unsatisfactory.
This was to be determined by a public demonstration. When the captain
held up the sign "Approved," I felt as though the greatest moment in my
life had arrived. I had worked so long and so hard for success and had
been obliged to laugh down so much scorn that you can imagine my
feelings. Suddenly a great volume of applause came from the house and I
knew in a second what my future should be.
Then it was that I realized that I was only a little way along my
journey. I wanted to be the foremost French tenor of my time. I knew
that success in France alone, while gratifying, would be limited, so I
set out to conquer new worlds. Wagner, up to that time, had never been
sung by any French tenor, so I determined to master German and become a
Wagner singer. This I did, and it fell to me to receive that most
coveted of Wagnerian distinctions, "soloist at Beyreuth," the citadel of
the highest in German operatic art. In after years I sang in all parts
of Germany with as much success as in France. Later I went to London and
then to America, where I sang for many seasons. It has been no small
pleasure for me to return to Paris, where I once lived in penury, and to
receive the highest fee ever paid to a French singer in the French
capital.