Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield: Black Lives Matter in Classical Music
I first learned of soprano, Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield, from a dear mentor of mine who emphatically shared with me one day that “every Black singer — American or otherwise — stands on the shoulders of Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield.” It was a head turning statement that rang in my ears, as I immediately recognized that my mentor was imploring me to internalize the name of the woman who paved the way for my right to pursue song as a profession. Greenfield was born enslaved in 19th century Mississippi, eventually became emancipated, and managed a cross-continental career in music by singing operatic works for the Queen of England at Buckingham Palace, with a few impressive stops in between. She not only forged a path for Black singers of classical music, but also for every Black singer who would ever pursue a professional career in song.
Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield was born sometime between 1817 and 1819 in Natchez, Mississippi to an enslaved Black couple, Anna and Taylor. As a young teen, she accompanied the mistress of the plantation, Elizabeth Halliday Greenfield, to Philadelphia, a city with the largest population of emancipated and free Black peoples in an exceptionally young United States. The relocation took place after her mistress — a budding abolitionist — divorced her second husband, emancipated 18 of the enslaved Black peoples held between she and her first husband, and arranged for their passage to Liberia to resettle and start life anew through the American Colonization Society.
Greenfield’s mother and sisters were among the emancipated, setting sail for Liberia on August 2, 1831. However, it was said the teenage Elizabeth “elected” to remain with E.H. Greenfield (henceforth referred to as “Halliday”), and part with her family. Though the nature of why exactly Elizabeth remained in America remains unclear, it is known that by the time she came to reside in Philadelphia, she was technically living as a freed woman working under the auspices of Halliday. Furthermore, and perhaps even more importantly, it was also during this time that she began studying music.
As a Black woman, Greenfield did not have the same career trajectory or access to training as other concert artists of her day, and it was often claimed in contemporary print media and concert reviews that she was largely self-taught. However, it is more probable that she had access to some form of music study in her early Philadelphia years, even if nominal, as Halliday was known to have invested in Greenfield’s education and literacy. In fact, Halliday was so dedicated to Greenfield that when she passed away in 1845, she bequeathed $100 per year to the young soprano for life. Sadly, this effort for progress was contested by Halliday’s heirs, and Elizabeth was left with nothing. It is under these circumstances, that the singer turned to music more intentionally, no doubt seeking a way to earn a living amidst the pervasive threat of being returned to slavery.
Greenfield’s career began in earnest at house parties. By 1851 she relocated to Buffalo, NY after spending roughly 5 years teaching music and voice in Philadelphia. That same year, she began a working relationship with Colonel J. H. Wood. However, Wood, who had worked with P.T. Barnum and aimed to model himself after the popular showman, was a complicated figure and known supporter of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850. His stance on the Act is of seminal note, as it indicates his allegiance to Confederate ideals and propensity for submitting artists to difficult and demeaning performance conditions. For example, Wood frequently required Black performers under his management to perform exclusively for segregated and/or white-only audiences.
Greenfield’s participation in segregated performances did not help her reputation within the North’s Black communities of the day. For example, when she was set to make her New York City Debut at Metropolitan Hall in 1853, Frederick Douglass, a leading activist, abolitionist, and public speaker petitioned her to refuse the performance. Instead, the performance went forward and, though the evening might have been a triumph — with an audience of over 4,000 and critics raving of Greenfield’s marvelous tone, timbre, and range — she was instead scandalized by Douglass’ scathing public retort to her refusal to cancel:
We marvel that Miss Greenfield can allow herself to be treated with such palpable disrespect; for the insult is to her, not less than to her race. She must have felt deep humiliation and depression while attempting to sing in the presence of an audience…which had thus degraded and dishonored the people to which she belongs…She is quite mistaken if she supposes that her success, as an artist depends upon her entire abandonment of self-respect…We warn her also, that this yielding, on her part, to the cowardly and contemptible exactions of the negro haters of this country may meet her in a distant land in a manner which she little imagines.
Greenfield later determined a way to perform for Black audiences by singing a series of church concerts after the Metropolitan debut, but would continue be criticized for her participation in segregated performances for the remainder of her life.
Shortly after the Metropolitan debut, Greenfield made her way to Europe for engagements in England, Ireland, and Scotland. However, upon her arrival, the European manager organizing her schedule suddenly abandoned Greenfield with no means, or place to stay. Yet, the determined soprano found a way to make the acquaintance of Harriet Beecher Stowe, a well-known American abolitionist who had recently published the celebrated, if not controversial, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Through her acquaintance with Stowe, Greenfield was able to set up several European concerts, including appearances for the Duchess of Norfolk, the Duchess of Argyll, the Duchess of Sutherland, and a command performance for Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace on May 10, 1854.
When Greenfield returned to the States in the summer of 1854, she was again refused entry into any musical program for further vocal study due to racist admittance practices. She responded by continuing a successful tour across the United States, even traveling as far South as Baltimore. She later opened a vocal studio to teach the next generation of Black voices in classical music. One of her students, Thomas J. Bowers, became a celebrated concert tenor who notably managed the task of refusing segregated performances to meaningful effect. Greenfield’s touring also reunited her with her former critic, Frederick Douglass, as they traveled the country in collaboration to further abolitionist efforts. In the 1860s, she developed an operatic troupe that was noted for its absence of minstrels.
Throughout her career, Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield was known as “The Black Swan,” a sobriquet that qualified her existence by likening her to Jenny Lind, “The Swedish Nightingale.” Though she endured difficulties and setbacks that would be unimaginable today, her legacy, courage, and commitment paved the way for every Black singer who made a career in music in her wake. She was truly a giant whose tremendous talent could not be denied, as noted in a June 16, 1854 article in the London Advertiser:
Apart from the natural gifts with which this lady is endowed, the great musical skill which she has acquired, both as a singer and an instrumentalist, is a convincing argument against the assertion too often made, that the Negro race is incapable of intellectual culture of a high standard.
Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield died in her home in Philadelphia of “sudden paralysis” on March 31, 1876.
