The most visible phase of the opera singer's life when he or she is in
view of the public on the stage is naturally the one most intimately
connected in the minds of the majority of people with the singer's
personality, and yet there are many happenings, amusing or tragic, from
the artist's point of view, which, though often seen, are as often not
realized in their true significance by the audience in front of the
orchestra. One might naturally think that a singer who has been
appearing for years on the operatic stage in many lands would have
overcome or outgrown that bane of all public performers, stage fright.
Yet such is far from the case, for it seems as though the greater the
artistic temperament the more truly the artist feels and the more of
himself he puts into the music he sings the greater his nervousness
beforehand. The latter is of course augmented if the performance is a
first night and the opera has as yet been untried before a larger
public.
This advance state of miserable physical tension is the portion of all
great singers alike, though in somewhat varying degrees, and it is
interesting to note the forms it assumes with different people. In many
it is shown by excessive irritability and the disposal to pick quarrels
with anyone who comes in contact with them. This is an unhappy time for
the luckless "dressers," wig man and stage hands, or even fellow artists
who encounter such singers before their first appearance in the evening.
Trouble is the portion of all such.
In other artists the state of mind is indicated by a stern set
countenance and a ghastly pallor, while still others become slightly
hysterical, laugh uproariously at nothing or burst into weeping. I have
seen a big six-foot bass singer, very popular at the opera two or three
seasons ago, walking to and fro with the tears running down his cheeks
for a long time before his entrance, and one of our greatest coloratura
prima donnas has come to me before the opera, sung a quavering note in a
voice full of emotion and said, with touching accents: "See, that is the
best I can do. How can I go on so?"
I myself have been affected often by such fright, though not always in
the extreme degree above described. This nervousness, however,
frequently shows itself in one's performance in the guise of indifferent
acting, singing off the key, etc. Artists are generally blamed for such
shortcomings, apparent in the early part of the production, when, as a
matter of fact, they themselves are hardly conscious of them and
overcome them in the course of the evening. Yet the public, even
critics, usually forget this fact and condemn an entire performance for
faults which are due at the beginning to sheer nervousness.
The oft-uttered complaint that operatic singers are the most difficult
to get on with of any folk, while justified, perhaps, can certainly be
explained by the foregoing observations.
We of the opera are often inclined to be superstitious in a way that
might annul matter of fact Americans. One woman, a distinguished and
most intelligent artist, crosses herself repeatedly before taking her
"cue," and a prima donna who is a favorite on two continents and who is
always escorted to the theatre by her mother, invariably goes through
the very solemn ceremony of kissing her mother good-by and receiving her
blessing before going on to sing. The young woman feels that she could
not possibly sing a note if the mother's eye were not on her every
moment from the wings.
Another famous singer wears a small bracelet that was given to her when
an infant by Gounod. She has grown somewhat stout of late years, and the
hoop of gold has been reënforced so often that there is hardly any of
the great composer's original gift left. Still, she feels that it is a
charm which has made her success, and whether she sings the part of a
lowly peasant or of a princess the bracelet is always visible.
And these little customs are not confined to the woman singers either,
for the men are equally fond of observing some little tradition to cheer
them in their performance. These little traits, trivial perhaps in
themselves, are of vital importance in that they create a sense of
security in the soul of the artist, who goes on his way, if not
rejoicing, at least convinced that the fates are not against him.
One of the penalties paid by the singers who are much in the public eye
is the constant demand made on them to listen to voices of vocal
aspirants--not always very young ones, strange to say. It is sad to
contemplate the number of people who think they can sing and are
destined by talent and temperament for operatic careers, who have been
led by misguided or foolish friends and too often by overambitious and
mercenary singing masters into spending time and money on their voices
in the fond hope of some day astonishing the world. Alas, they do not
realize that the great singers who are heard in the New York opera
houses have been picked from the world's supply after a process of most
drastic selection, and that it is only the most rarely exceptional voice
and talent which after long years of study and preparation become
worthy to join the elect.
I am asked to hear many who have voices with promise of beauty, but who
have obviously not the intelligence necessary to take up a career, for
it does require considerable intelligence to succeed in opera, in spite
of opinions to the contrary expressed by many. Others, who have keen and
alert minds and voices of fine quality, yet lack that certain esprit and
broadness of musical outlook required in a great artist. This lack is
often so apparent in the person's manner or bearing that I am tempted to
tell him it is no use before he utters a note. Yet it would not do to
refuse a hearing to all these misfits, for there is always the chance of
encountering the unknown genius, however rare a bird he may be.
And how often have the world's great voices been discovered by chance,
but fortunately by some one empowered to bring out the latent gift!
One finds in America many beautiful voices, and when one thinks of the
numerous singers successfully engaged in operatic careers both here and
abroad, it cannot with justice be said as it used to be several years
ago that America does not produce opera singers. Naturally a majority of
those to whom I give a hearing here in New York are Americans, and of
these are a number of really remarkable voices and a fairly good
conception of what is demanded of an opera singer.
Sometimes, however, it would be amusing if it were not tragic to see how
much off the track people are who have been led to think they have
futures. One young man who came recently to sing for me carried a
portentous roll of music and spoke in the deepest of bass voices. When
asked what his main difficulty was he replied that he "didn't seem to be
able to get on the key." And this was apparent when he started in and
wandered up and down the tonal till he managed to strike the tonic. Then
he asked me whether I would rather hear "Qui sdegno," from Mozart's
"Magic Flute," or "Love Me and the World is Mine." Upon the latter being
chosen he asked the accompanist to transpose it, and upon this
gentleman's suggesting a third lower, he said: "No, put it down an
octave." And that's where he sang it, too. I gently but firmly advised
the young man to seek other paths than musical ones. However, such
extreme examples as that are happily rare.
I would say to all young people who are ambitious to enter on a career
of opera: Remember, it is a thoroughly hard-worked profession, after
all; that even with a voice of requisite size and proper cultivation
there is still a repertory of rôles to acquire, long months and years of
study for this and requiring a considerable feat of memory to retain
them even after they are learned. Then there is the art of acting to be
studied, which is, of course, an entire occupation in itself and
decidedly necessary in opera, including fencing--how to fall properly,
the various gaits and gestures wherewith to portray different emotions,
etc. Then, as opera is sung nowadays, the knowledge of the diction of at
least three languages--French, German and Italian--if not essential, is
at least most helpful.