Pari siamo

1. Pari siamo (0:00)
2. Cortigiani, vil razza dannata (03:35)

E. Herbert-Caesari says of this dramatic baritone:

'Talking of baritones, it was in 1908 in Rome that I first heard, in Aida, the biggest baritone voice of all time : Viglione Borghese. (His records are very poor imitations and give no clue whatever to the opulence of that colossal voice.) He started life as a medical student, but gave that up and went into opera, which he soon gave up as he did not care "for the atmosphere and intrigues". He went to the Klondyke where the gold rush was on. Saw a lot of shooting and killing but found no gold. After about three years he repaired to San Francisco, California. He became a bottle-washer, a waiter, and did sundry other jobs. In odd moments he would sing. His was a completely *natural* voice. The Italian colony there clubbed together and with a sufficient sum of money he was sent back to Italy with letters of recommendation, and he entered opera once again. He studied roles and embarked on the new career. He was not long in being recognized with *that* voice, and moreover, he was a fine natural actor. When he came out as the father Amonasro in Aida in 1909 in Rome he looked a picture. I can still see him with the mind's eye. An aquiline nose, big eyes, muscular body, with a brass band round his black wig and two short horns sticking out on either side of the head, and just a leopard skin, a real one, covering his chest and loins. When it came to the King asking him : "Dunque tu sei?" (Who are you?) he answered with "Suo padre" (Her father). Well that AH in padre, sung on D natural, fourth line, was something. Never, repeat *never* have I heard a bigger and better sound, of real beauty too, than that which came out of Borghese's throat. It literally flooded the opera house. The whole audience rose as one man to applaud and applaud. Even the 120 members of the orchestra and conductor joined in the enthusiasm. It stopped the show for a while. Borghese simply bowed his acknowledgment and motioned for the orchestra to continue. That really stupendous D natural was not the product of belly-thrust (pace the diaphragmatic fiends). When it came to the Nile duet with Aida, in the phrase "Non sei mia figlia" (You are not my daughter any more) those G flats were colossal and something to think about. The power and spontaneity of it all. You should have heard the applause! At the time, I was correspondent for the Musical Times and three American papers too and I remember writing about Viglione Borghese that he would "make three of Titto Ruffo" ! That was no exaggeration. It seems incredible that such power, *liquid* power, could come from a human throat, capped with beautiful, apparently effortless, tone. He would not leave Italy and turned down numerous offers from abroad, because he had "done enough travelling to last a lifetime". What an artist! Now he is dead, and an era has passed, never to return.'