A Cadenza for Caruso Read Online Free

another?” Puccini laughed. “Yes, it is the same Toscanini who rages and screams and withers strong men with his sarcasm. Perhaps he is just showing me special consideration because of my trouble and it may not last—”
    â€œIt won’t last,” Caruso and Amato said together.
    â€œPity,” said Puccini. “Such a pleasant change.”
    The first full rehearsal for La Fanciulla del West was to take place in just a few days; and between that time and the opening on December 10, Caruso was scheduled to sing in several other operas at the Metropolitan. Normally he would have refused to rehearse one opera during the day and sing another at night; he needed the day to prepare for his performance. But Fanciulla was a world première, after all—the very first the Met had ever presented. So how could he refuse? Especially when the new opera had been written by the world’s greatest living composer. It occurred to Caruso that the Germans would say Richard Strauss was the greatest—but then, what did the Germans know of opera?
    So there was very little time for play left. “Tomorrow,” the tenor told Puccini, “we ride the ferry boat to Brooklyn—a nice trip, I go many times. When we get back, we stop at Dorlon’s for oysters. Then … ah, an antiques dealer on Fifth Avenue tells me he has a pair of Alessandro Vittorio candlesticks—we go look at them, yes? For dinner, perhaps the roof garden at Madison Square Garden? We can watch a show as we dine!”
    The composer laughed. “Caruso, do you never slow down? When do you find time for work?”
    â€œSix hours every day,” Caruso announced firmly. “First the breathing exercises, then the scales, then the music. Six hours I practice, every day.”
    â€œSo he does,” Amato nodded.
    â€œAnd I also study translations of libretti to improve my English!” the tenor finished triumphantly.
    â€œThat is about all they are good for,” Amato mused. “Why does anyone bother translating opera into English? No one is ever going to sing it. English is for sports , for playing tennis and golf and racing the horses. But for opera? Never.”
    Without thinking about it, Caruso started singing one of the airs from Tosca in English, making up the words when he couldn’t remember the translation. The sweetly romantic tune seemed wonderfully incongruous when sung with words such as Strange harmony of deliciously blending contrasts . Soon the whole table was laughing, and then the entire dining room of the Knickerbocker—and none was laughing harder than Puccini.
    The dinner party did its job.

2
    Late for the first day of rehearsal.
    â€œYou should have had the clothes laid out, Ugo,” Caruso scolded as they hurried down Broadway. “Martino told you which ones last night.”
    â€œNo, he didn’t, Rico. He forgot.”
    â€œMartino never forgets. You are the one who forgot.”
    â€œYou always take Martino’s side against me,” Ugo grumbled.
    Thank goodness the Metropolitan was so close. For the first few days they would be working in a rehearsal hall with a piano accompanist, moving to the main stage with full orchestra only when they had the basics of the opera under control. Caruso hoped it would be in a few days’ time; with Maestro Toscanini at the helm, one never knew.
    The door to the rehearsal hall was standing open. Caruso stuck his head in and took a quick look around: Neither Toscanini nor the Met’s general manager had yet arrived. The tenor sighed in relief. He didn’t want to offend Gatti-Casazza; and like all singers, he was more than a little intimidated by Toscanini. Caruso gave his hat and coat to Ugo and told him not to make any disturbance during the rehearsal.
    â€œI never make a disturbance during rehearsal,” Ugo replied indignantly.
    The hall was crowded; the fifty-man chorus took up a lot of room. The other