GIOVANNI MARTINELLI
"LET US HAVE PLENTY OF OPERA IN AMERICA"
Said the Professor: "How well I remember the first time I heard Martinelli. We were traveling in Italy that summer, and had arrived in Verona rather late in the afternoon. The city seemed full of people, with many strangers, and we could not at first secure accommodations at the hotel. Inquiring the cause, the answer was: 'Does not the signer know that to-day is one holiday, and to-night, in the Amphitheater, Aïda will be sung, under the stars.' We finally secured rooms, and of course heard the opera that night. Young Martinelli was the Rhadames, and I shall never forget how splendidly his voice rang out over those vast spaces of the Arena. It was a most unusual experience to hear that music sung in the open—'under the stars,' and it was unforgettable."
GIOVANNI MARTINELLI
Giovanni Martinelli, who has been for several years one of the leading tenors at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, has warmly entrenched himself in the hearts of music lovers in America. To be a great singer, as some one has said, requires, first, voice; second, voice; third, voice. However, at the present hour a great singer must have more than voice; we demand histrionic ability also. We want singing actors as well as great singers.
Mr. Martinelli is the possessor of a beautiful voice and, moreover, is a fine actor and an excellent musician. He was, first of all, a clarinetist before he became a singer, and so well did he play his chosen instrument that his services were in great demand in his home town in Italy. Then it was discovered he had a voice and he was told he could make a far greater success with that voice than he ever could playing the clarinet. He set to work at once to cultivate the voice in serious earnest and under good instruction. After a considerable time devoted to study, he made his début in Milan, in Verdi's Ernani. His success won an engagement at Covent Garden and for Monte Carlo.
A visit to the singer's New York home is a most interesting experience. He has chosen apartments perched high above the great artery of the city's life—Broadway. From the many sun-flooded windows magnificent views of avenue, river and sky are visible, while at night the electrical glamour that meets the eye is fairy-like. It is a sightly spot and must remind the singer of his own sun lighted atmosphere at home.
The visitor was welcomed with simple courtesy by a kindly, unaffected gentleman, who insists he cannot speak "your English," but who, in spite of this assertion, succeeds in making himself excellently well understood. One feels his is a mentality that will labor for an object and will attain it through force of effort. There is determination in the firm mouth, which smiles so pleasantly when speaking; the thoughtful brow and serious eyes add their share to the forceful personality. The Titian-tinted hair indicates, it is said, a birthplace in northern Italy. This is quite true in the case of Mr. Martinelli, as he comes from a village not far from Padua and but fifty miles from Venice—the little town of Montagnana.
DAILY STUDY
"You ask about my daily routine of study. In the morning I practice exercises and vocalizes for one hour. These put the voice in good condition, tune up the vocal chords and oil up the mechanism, so to speak. After this I work on repertoire for another hour. I always practice with full voice, as with half voice I would not derive the benefit I need. At rehearsals I use half voice, but not when I study. In the afternoon I work another hour, this time with my accompanist; for I do not play the piano myself, only just enough to assist the voice with a few chords. This régime gives me three hours' regular study, which seems to me quite sufficient. The voice is not like the fingers of a pianist, for they can be used without limit. If we would keep the voice at its best, we must take care not to overwork it.
TREATMENT OF THE VOICE
"In regard to the treatment of the voice, each singer must work out his own salvation. A great teacher—one who understands his own voice and can sing as well as teach—may tell how he does things, may explain how he treats the voice, may demonstrate to the student his manner of executing a certain phrase or passage, or of interpreting a song. But when this is done he can do little more for the student, for each person has a different mentality and a different quality of voice—indeed there are as many qualities of voice as there are people. After general principles are thoroughly understood, a singer must work them out according to his own ability. This does not mean that he cannot be guided and helped by the greater experience of a master higher up, who can always criticize the result of what the student is trying to do. The voice is a hidden instrument, and eventually its fate must rest with its possessor.
A NEW RÔLE
"When I take up a new part I read the book very carefully to get a thorough idea of the story, the plot and the characters. Then comes the study of my own part, of which I memorize the words first of all. As soon as the words are committed I begin on the music. When these are both well in hand, work with the accompanist follows.
"I have many tenor rôles in my repertoire and am working on others. If you ask for my favorite opera, or operas, I would answer, as most Italians would do, that I enjoy singing the music of Verdi more than that of any composer. I love his Aïda perhaps best of all. Ernani is a beautiful opera, but maybe would be thought too old-fashioned for New York. I sing various rôles in French as well as Italian—Faust, Sans Gene, and many more. In Italy we know Wagner very well—Lohengrin, Tannhauser, Tristan and Meistersinger,—but of course they are always sung in Italian.
OPERA IN EVERY CITY
"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."