Every now and then someone asks me whether America is really becoming
musical. All I can say is that a year ago I, with my accompanist,
traveled over 61,000 miles, touching every part of this country and,
during that eight months, singing almost nightly when the transit
facilities would permit, found everywhere the very greatest enthusiasm
for the very best music. Of course, Americans want some numbers on the
program with the so-called "human" element; but at the same time they
court the best in vocal art and seem never to get enough of it. All of
my instruction has been received in America. All of my teachers, with
the exception of my father and Victor Maurel, were born in America; so I
may be called very much of an American product.
Just why Americans should ever have been obsessed with the idea that it
was impossible to teach voice successfully on this side of the Atlantic
is hard to tell. I have a suspicion that many like the adventure of
foreign travel far more than the labor of study. Probably ninety-five
per cent. of the pupils who went over did so for the fascinating
experience of living in a European environment rather than for the
downright purpose of coming back great artists. Therefore, we should
not blame the European teachers altogether for the countless failures
that have floated back to us almost on every tide. I have recently heard
a report that many of the highest-priced and most efficient voice
teachers in Italy are Americans who have Italianized their names.
Certainly the most successful voice teachers in Berlin were George
Ferguson and Frank King Clark, who was at the top of the list also in
Paris when he was there.
The American singer should remember in these days that, first of all, he
must sing in America and in the English language more than in any other.
I am not one of those who decry singing in foreign languages. Certain
songs, it is true, cannot be translated so that their meaning can be
completely understood in English; yet, if the reader will think for a
moment, how is the American auditor to understand a single thought of a
poem in a language of which he knows nothing?
The Italian is a glorious language for the singer, and with it English
cannot be compared, with its thirty-one vowel sounds and its many
coughing, sputtering consonants. Training in Italian solfeggios is very
fine for creating a free, flowing style. Many of the Italian teachers
were obsessed with the idea of the big tone. The audiences fired back
volleys of "Bravos!" and "Da Capos" when the tenor took off his plumed
hat, stood on his toes and howled a high C. That was part of his stock
in trade. Naturally, he forced his voice, and most of the men singers
quit at the age of fifty. I hope to be in my prime at that time, as my
voice seems to grow better each year. Battistini, who was born in 1857,
is an exception. His voice, I am told, is remarkably preserved.