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Updated: May 12, 2025
After that, while the audience clapped and stamped its approval and delight of the dog Caruso, Jacob Henderson would appear on the stage, bowing and smiling in stereotyped gladness and gratefulness, rest his right hand on Michael's shoulders with a play-acted assumption of comradeliness, whereupon both Henderson and Michael would bow ere the final curtain went down.
"Then the strong voice of 'Caruso' again was heard: We may not look like dreadnaughts, But from all present signs Davy Jones has told the Kaiser That "we're there" on laying mines. Awhile ago the subs, you know, Thought they had the gravy, But when they hit our mine fields, Oh! They leave the Germany navy.
In a part that he acted as well as he sang, Caruso had been permitted finally to retire, wringing wet, to his dressing room. With all the dignity of a man of genuine feeling and sensitiveness he had taken call after call on the fall of the curtain and stood bent almost double before the increasing breakers of applause.
He has a repertoire of seventy rôles, some of them learned in two languages. Among the parts he has prepared but has never sung are: Othello, Fra Diavolo, Eugen Onegin, Pique Dame, Falstaff and Jewels of the Madonna. Besides the daily review of opera rôles, Caruso examines many new songs; every day brings a generous supply.
To me, with "Two Years Before the Mast" and Clark Russell's galley yarns churning in my mind, it was sweeter far than ever siren voiced to lure her victims to their death, and rough and tarry as was the shanty-man, Caruso had never seemed to me such a glorious figure.
His sallow cheeks had lost their gaunt hollows, his dark eyes, though preserving their ironical glitter, had lost the hunger-lit gleam of wolfishness. "Have you signed a Caruso contract for Covent Garden?" laughed Andrew. "I've done better. At Covent Garden you've got to work like the devil for your money. I've made a contract with my family no work at all. Agreement just to bury the hatchet.
Can any one who hears and sees Caruso in the rôle of Samson, listen unmoved to the throbbing wail of that glorious voice and the unutterable woe of the blind man's poignant impersonation? Enrico Caruso was born in Naples, the youngest of nineteen children. His father was an engineer and the boy was taught the trade in his father's shop, and was expected to follow in his father's footsteps.
There were six children in the house, and she knitted and sewed and baked and brewed for us all. I used to toddle along at her side when she carried each day the home-made bread and the bottle of small beer for father's dinner at the mill. I worshiped my mother, and wanted to be like her. And that's why I went in for singing. I have sung more songs in my life than did Caruso.
Cats care little for fun. In the circus, superlative acrobats. No clowns. In drama and singing they would have surpassed us probably. Even in the state of arrested development as mere animals, in which we see cats, they wail with a passionate intensity at night in our yards. Imagine how a Caruso descended from such beings would sing. In literature they would not have begged for happy endings.
It was always Caruso who sang a certain part; we could never forget that. But constant study and experience have eliminated even this defect, so that to-day the singer and actor are justly balanced; both are superlatively great.
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