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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 52674
   :PG.Title: How to Become a Successful Singer
   :PG.Released: 2016-07-29
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Clara Butt
   :DC.Creator: Nellie Melba
   :DC.Creator: Enrico Caruso
   :DC.Creator: Ben Davies
   :DC.Title: How to Become a Successful Singer
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1912
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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HOW TO BECOME A SUCCESSFUL SINGER
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      HOW TO BECOME
      A SUCCESSFUL SINGER

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      BY

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      MADAME CLARA BUTT
      MADAME MELBA
      SIGNOR CARUSO
      MR. BEN DAVIES

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      LONDON: GEORGE NEWNES, LIMITED,
      SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, \W.\C.

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   CONTENTS.

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`How to Become a Successful Singer.`_  By Madame Clara Butt

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`The Gift of Song.  With Practical Advice on Voice Culture.`_  By Madame Melba

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`Hints on the Cultivation of the Voice.`_  By Enrico Caruso

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`How to Attain Success in Singing.`_  By Ben Davies

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.. _`HOW TO BECOME A SUCCESSFUL SINGER.`:

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   HOW TO BECOME
   A SUCCESSFUL SINGER.

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   By MADAME CLARA BUTT.

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The question of how to sing a song involves
touching upon a variety of points that might not
at first sight be associated with the subject.  Four
distinct factors play prominent parts in the singing
of any song, however simple.  These are the
Voice, the Singer, the Master, and the Song.

Of these, of course, the voice is of primary
importance; for unless an individual possesses in
some degree the gift of song it is impossible for
him or her to become a singer.  In very many
cases, needless to say, correct training, by showing
how the vocal organs can be used to the best
advantage, may achieve some sort of result.  But
the voice so produced is often of an artificial
character, which can never approach the purely
"natural" voice.

It is, I believe, held by a great many people that
only those can sing who possess a throat and vocal
organs suitable for the production of the voice, but
my own views on the subject do not coincide with
this idea at all.  My point of view is that if you
are meant to be a singer you will sing.  "God sent
His singers upon earth," etc.

One often hears of operations upon the throat
being performed with the object of improving the
voice, but here again I find myself in entire
disagreement.  I think that if one is born with a
deformity of the throat, and has always sung easily
with it, any attempt to interfere with, or alter, that
deformity, may end in destroying the power of
song altogether.

When I was at the Royal College of Music I
was constantly being urged to have my tonsils cut.
For a long time I held out against it, but at last
consented.  However, while I was actually seated
in the operating chair, the doctor asked me to sing
the vowel sound "E" on a high note, and
remarked upon the way my tonsils contracted while
I sang it.  All at once I recalled the case of a girl
I knew, with a true soprano voice, who had lost
the ability to sing in tune after her tonsils had been
cut.  Might it not be the same in my own case?
This decided me in an instant.  I refused to let
the operation be performed, and from that day to
this have never allowed my throat to be interfered
with surgically in any way.  Yet I have had every
sort of throat that a singer would wish to avoid
without my voice being affected in the least!  I
started life, almost, with diphtheria, have suffered
from adenoids, and have experienced several
attacks of quinsy.  Among myself and my three
sisters, all of us being singers, my throat is the
worst of the lot, and not in the least like a
singer's throat.  The sister whose voice most
nearly resembles mine is the one whose throat
is most like mine; and the sister who has
a throat and vocal organs which are ideal from
an anatomical point of view possesses a soprano
voice which, though particularly sweet, is not
strong!

One thing that I think exercises an enormous
amount of influence upon the quality of voices is
climate.  Review the climatic conditions of the
various countries, and you cannot help remarking
upon the number of natural voices that are met
with in Italy and in Australia, in both of which
countries the climate is unusually fine.  I believe
that the brilliance of the Australian climate must
be reckoned with very seriously in accounting for
the peculiar brilliance which is a characteristic of
Australian singing voices, while that Italy is a
country of singers is well known to everybody.  At
the same time, climatic conditions do not seem to
affect the speaking voice, which I imagine is more
a question of language.  I have always thought
that the English speaking voice is the best of any.
There is none of that nasal, sonorous accent about
it which, for instance, makes the speaking voice
of the ordinary Italian so unpleasant.  I was never
so struck with this quality in Italian speaking
voices as upon one occasion when staying at an
hotel in Venice, where there was a cafe almost
beneath our windows.  Even the beauties of
Venice hardly compensated for the nerve-racking
nasal chatter that continually floated up to us from
below.

It goes without saying that the voice needs a
great deal of training and care if it is to be brought
to the best development, and one of the first faults
that must be cured is in the taking, and use of, the
breath.  This must be done in an entirely different
way from that usually employed when speaking.
It would be impossible for me to deal fully in such
an article as this with the question of how to take
breath, and as it is one of the first lessons that a
singing master should teach, I will confine myself
here to saying that the main difference lies in the
fact that, when speaking, the breath is usually
taken from the chest, but that when singing it must
be controlled by the abdominal muscles.

When singing, the muscles of the throat must be
relaxed, and not contracted.  Self-consciousness
often does more to mar a good voice than anything
else, since it leads to the contraction of the muscles.
Have you never noticed how pleasantly some
people sing or hum to themselves when they
imagine they are not overheard, compared with the
indifferent or even unpleasant manner in which
they perform publicly?  Here we have a direct
example of the result of self-consciousness.  Never
mind your audience.  Allow the song to carry you
away, so that you sing easily and naturally.

To acquire perfect control over the throat
muscles, so that they may be relaxed at will, is one
of the most difficult points in voice training.  And
one of the most common mistakes made in this
respect is in over-practice.  The muscles of the
throat are among the most delicate of the whole
body, and I am convinced that it is a fatal error to
overtax them, especially during the early training
of the voice, by too much practice.  Personally,
my training was very gradual, and the greatest
care was taken not to impose too much strain upon
my throat at first.  I am confident that a number
of short practices of ten or fifteen minutes' duration,
with intervals of rest between, are better than a few
long periods, since the throat is thus less liable to
become tired.  Every expert in physical development
will tell you that for the proper development
of any set of muscles a gradual exercise that does
not involve over-exertion is the best, and I would
particularly emphasise the importance of this
where the throat is concerned.

Another point in connection with the voice which
is too often overlooked is the question of general
health.  My gardener sometimes complains that
the flowers do not come to perfection owing to the
poorness of the soil.  The simile is a very good
one.  The vocal organs are like delicate flowers,
capable of the best development when the soil in
which they are planted—the body—is in perfect
condition.  It must be the object of all singers,
therefore, to take the greatest care of their
health.

Over-exercise of the body generally should also
be avoided, just as much as over-exercising the
throat.  It is easier to sing when the rest of the
body has not been over-tired.  General exercise,
though essential to health, can be overdone just as
much as vocal exercise.  These remarks apply
particularly to the student.  It is while the voice is
being formed, more than after it has been formed,
that it is likely to be affected by such considerations
as those just mentioned.

The mind plays a prominent part where the
voice is concerned.  Worry, unhappiness, and
mental strain of every description may lower the
whole tone of the body, and, by lessening the
inclination to sing, make singing more difficult.
Unfortunately, one cannot take mental worries in
small doses, but must put up with them as they
come; and I only mention this to impress upon my
readers the more forcibly how important the
general health of mind and body is where the voice
is concerned.

After all, the effect of mental or bodily strain
upon the voice depends entirely upon the individual.
Personally, whatever may be the state of
my mind or my body, I am able to sing in a sort
of subconscious state.

It would hardly be possible to hit upon a more
striking illustration of what can be done when one
is in a subconscious condition than what I am
about to relate.

At one time and another I have had to have
operations performed—for appendicitis, for
instance—which have necessitated my being put under
ether.  On every single occasion I have sung in
full voice while under the influence of the
anæsthetic!  This was most remarkable perhaps
on the occasion when I was being operated upon
for appendicitis, for then the abdominal muscles,
which control one's breathing, must naturally have
been interfered with.

The fact is that trouble, worry, and ill-health
have no effect upon the voice itself.  The voice
is always there.  It is only the power of using it
that may be impaired.

As I have already pointed out, it is in the early
stages of vocal training that the effects of ill-health,
mental worry, or overwork are most likely to be
felt.  When the voice has been properly trained,
and the vocal organs fully developed, they are less
likely to suffer by the rest of the body being out of
tune, and it is therefore of particular importance
for beginners to bear my remarks in mind.

Here is another point which beginners should
take to heart, and follow as far as they are able.
Try to avoid over-anxiety.  Students often make
the mistake, through over-anxiety, of over-working
their voices just before a concert, with the
result that they are not at their best when on the
platform.  It is a good plan to rest both the body
and the voice before singing in public.

I should like to emphasise the importance of this
very fully.  Young singers seem to lose sight, half
the time, of the fact that they should be at their
very best when on the platform.  Personally I
always keep, and have always kept, this clearly
before my mind.  It is the greatest possible
mistake to waste your efforts at the last moment in
private.  Rest before you sing in public, in order
that when you go on to the platform you may give
your audience—who, after all, have paid to be
entertained—of your best.  Remember that while
polishing is highly desirable, there is such a thing
as over-polishing, and this, instead of improving,
only wears out.  I am a great believer in the quiet
study of a song without the aid of a piano.  Not
only does this avoid tiring the voice, but it enables
the singer to fully grasp all the beauty and the
meaning of the words and the music, and so to
enter into the spirit of the subject when upon the
platform.  When on tour I frequently adopt this
method of studying.  It enables one to be doing
something useful when in the train, or elsewhere,
when actual practice is undesirable or impracticable.

This resting of the voice before singing in public
applies not only to vocal exercises, but to all kinds
of over-exertion of the throat.  Even those who
are aware of the danger, and who are careful to
refrain from singing-practice just before an appearance
in public, very frequently forget that speaking
may tire the voice every whit as much as singing.
It is most important not to do too much talking for
some hours before a public appearance is made.
In this way the throat will be thoroughly rested.

In singing, as in everything else, experience
teaches, better than any amount of instruction,
what an individual is capable of, and how the full
power and merit of the voice may best be acquired
and preserved.  When students have "found their
feet" sufficiently to understand the best way to
manage their voices, they will be able to regulate
their practice according to what leads to the best
result in each individual case.  Some may be best
suited by morning practice, others by afternoon
practice.  Personally, I put in most of my practice
between the hours of eleven and one each morning.

The next factor to be considered is the Singer.
Temperament, individuality, force, dramatic ability,
perseverance, industry, keenness, and ambition all
play a part in the making of a successful singer and
in the singing of a song successfully.  It is in the
earlier stages of the singer's career that some of
these qualities are most necessary, for many years
of hard and constant study have sometimes to be
faced.  It is during this time that perseverance,
industry, keenness, and ambition, if they are
possessed, will help the student on so enormously;
indeed, while ambition and keenness will do most
perhaps in the early stages, industry and perseverance
are required all the time, for it is impossible
to reach a stage where there is nothing left to learn.

Singing is but one branch of art, and a singer
can learn something from every other branch.
From the Actor may be gleaned hints for dramatic
effect; from the Painter may be acquired an
appreciation of breadth and colour; from the
Orator may be picked up many useful hints as
regards enunciation, modulation, and emphasis;
while the Writer may inspire those beautiful
thoughts which, taking root in the singer's mind,
help towards that mental health which is as
important to the perfect voice as physical fitness.
It will be seen, therefore, that one may never have
done studying; for there are constantly new actors,
new speakers, new painters, or new writers from
whom something may be learnt, while in painting
and literature alone there are great masterpieces
to such number that no one singer could ever hope
to study them all.  It must be remembered, also,
that what satisfied the public ten years ago does not
satisfy them now, and as a singer must keep pace
with every advancement that is made, there is
constant study to be done.

The first thing the possessor of a voice looks
out for is naturally some one to train it, and this
brings us to the question of the master.  It is not
my intention to give advice as to the selection of
master or masters; indeed, it would be impossible
to do so, partly because there are so many masters
between whom it would be invidious to make
comparisons, and partly because such an article as this
is intended more to assist the general run of
students, who are spread over so large an area that
they could not all reach the best-known masters,
but are obliged to study locally.  In England and
in the Colonies there are many very good schools
and colleges for vocal training, and there are
competent teachers, most of them emanating from our
great Colleges and Academies, within reach of
almost every district.  While I do not wish to
appear unpatriotic, however, it must frankly be
admitted that students must study on the Continent
if the best results are to be achieved, since only on
the Continent can they study in that "Musical
Atmosphere" which is so essential a surrounding
for one who essays an artistic career.  Even if
prolonged study on the Continent is out of the
question, it is advisable, at all costs, for Continental
musical centres to be visited.  No musical
education can otherwise be complete.

You must not think that I wish to run down
English masters.  Quite the contrary: I think you
can get just as good masters here as abroad.  It is
simply the question of "Atmosphere"—surroundings.
There is no city in England where the
pupil can study amid such surroundings that music
and artistic ideas and ideals hem him in on every
side, so that they meet him whichever way he turns,
and so that the feeling that music is the only thing
in the world remains with him, waking and sleeping,
during the whole period of his study.

Only when surrounded by such an Atmosphere
can the student be properly developed where his
musical ideas are concerned, for only these
surroundings can develop that artistic temperament
which is so essential.

And apart from the question of Musical Atmosphere,
seeing that a singer is frequently called
upon to render songs in French, German, and
Italian, it is necessary that those languages should
be studied in France, Germany, and Italy, if
perfection is to be acquired.

It is a very grave fault of our musical colleges
and academies that they employ, as a rule, English
teachers to give instruction in foreign languages.
If in one's student days one had a good master for
these languages—a Frenchman to teach French,
a German to teach German, and so on—it would
be of the greatest possible assistance, and would
save a considerable amount of time and labour,
since so much less would have to be unlearned.
It is not too much to say, I think, that our musical
institutions will never reach the highest point of
their utility till they do this.

But before learning to sing in foreign languages
at all, it is essential that pupils should learn to sing
in their own language.  Masters in this country
teach their pupils to sing passably in French,
Italian, and German, but directly they attempt to
sing in English one is horrified to find that their
enunciation is so bad that it is impossible to
understand the words they sing, and almost out of the
question to tell what language they are singing
in!  Surely it should be the first object of the
teacher to instruct his pupils in the singing of their
own language.

I verily believe that the reason why our language
is looked down upon for singing in is because so
many of our native singers do not know how to
sing it properly.  There are much harder sounds
in the German language, for instance.  Yet
German songs are constantly sung by singers of
every nationality.  How often does one hear of
English songs being sung in France, Germany
or Italy by French, German, and Italian singers?
Even when they give recitals over here their
programmes seldom include an English song, and one
is even more struck by so many of our own vocalists
giving recitals at which often not a single song in
English is included!

When English is properly sung, it is as easy to
sing in, and as beautiful to listen to, as any other
language, and if students were taught how to sing
it, its popularity among singers would, I feel
convinced, quickly spread.

I remember very well indeed singing on one
occasion to Madame Marchesi in Paris.  I boldly
chose an English song, and upon coming to
the end of it, was much pleased by the tribute
Madame Marchesi paid to our language when
she said to me, "English is beautiful when sung
like that!"

It should emphatically be the first duty of a
master to teach his pupils how to use their native
language, and no other should be attempted till
they can do this perfectly.  The slipshod methods
so frequently met with now would then soon
disappear, and I am sure it would not be long before
other countries began to appreciate the many
beauties of the English language for singing in,
and we should get more songs written by good
composers to some of our beautiful English poetry.

Before I leave this question of the master there
is one other point for me to touch upon.  Although,
when once they have mastered the singing of their
own language, pupils should seek the Musical
Atmosphere of the Continent, it must be remembered
that there is one branch of music which is
peculiarly our own, and which must accordingly
be studied here.  I refer to Oratorio.  England
is the home of Oratorio, and consequently this
style of singing cannot be studied abroad.  And
for any singer who looks forward to entering the
musical profession, careful study of this branch is
absolutely indispensable.  Oratorio is very popular
here, and English audiences will not for a moment
tolerate singers who fail to acquit themselves well
when they undertake it; and as most professionals
have to do Oratorio work at one time or another,
care must be taken that the public are not given
renderings which fail through lack of proper study
and application.

Oratorio entails much study and research that is
unnecessary where other branches of singing are
concerned.  Not only must the whole work be
studied so that the singer may become acquainted
with the full intention of the composer, but a special
study must be made of the character which the
singer is to perform, in order that all the feelings
and emotions he or she would have felt in real life
may be properly understood before an attempt is
made to reproduce them.  If the best results are
to be achieved, the life, habits, failings, aims, and
ambitions of the character to be interpreted must,
as far as possible, be carefully studied and thought
about, in order that the singer may better
appreciate the situations which occur, and know how the
character portrayed would have felt and acted in
them.  The Bible throws considerable light upon
the life and character of most of the personages
who have a place in Oratorio, and it is therefore
useful, when studying some particular work, to
examine carefully that portion of the Bible which
may throw light upon the subject.

Lastly, we come to the song, and this is a
question upon which I hold very decided views.
The object of singers should be to give the greatest
amount of pleasure to their audiences, as well as to
use all that is best and highest in their art to inspire
good thoughts, and raise the mental standard of
their hearers.  The larger proportion of every
audience can only follow the words of the song in
English.  They can fully appreciate the beauty of
the music, I admit, and for this reason every artist
should have some of the most beautiful songs of
other countries in his or her repertoire, but it is a
lamentable fact that good translations are very rare.
I like to choose as many songs as possible in
English, so that their meaning and their message
can be readily understood and appreciated by my
audience.

I believe that it is within the power of an artist
to actually lessen, or, at any rate, to temporarily
relieve, the cares and worries of which each
member of an audience has a share; and I am sure that
the easiest way to do so is to sing songs whose
meaning, and whose message, is immediately
understandable.

In conclusion, I cannot insist too strongly upon
the necessity for hard work and perseverance for
those who are to succeed in the world of music.
Too many people imagine that the "gift" is everything.
But, indeed, this is not the case, for though
the "gift" is, of course, indispensable, much
application and hard work are necessary before it can be
made use of to the best advantage.  Given a voice
and some dramatic instinct, there still remains
careful and laborious training to be gone through before
a singer can know how to sing a song and be able
to put that knowledge into practice.  The great
thing is to be sincere, to be individual, and to
grasp at the beginning of one's career the impossibility
of pleasing everybody, *and the necessity of
being true to oneself*, and if others see the truth
differently, be deferential, and not servile, to their
alien point of view.





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.. _`THE GIFT OF SONG.  WITH PRACTICAL ADVICE ON VOICE CULTURE.`:

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   THE GIFT OF SONG.

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   WITH PRACTICAL ADVICE ON VOICE CULTURE.

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   By MADAME MELBA.

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During the years immediately preceding my
first and, for me, my most memorable visit to
Europe, the late Marquis of Normanby was
Governor of Victoria.  At that time I was regarded
in Melbourne as a very good amateur pianist, much
in request for private parties, at which I always
played, and on very rare occasions also sang.  At
one of these functions, given at Government
House, I gave some songs between the pianoforte
selections, and the Marchioness of Normanby, in
thanking me, said, "Child, some day you will give
up the piano for singing, and then you will become
famous."

That was the simple comment that set me
seriously thinking of a career as a singer.  I had
always felt that I would become a professional in
music—pianist, organist, violinist, perhaps, but
something in music, at any rate; but from that
moment I knew in an irresistible way that I was to
be a singer.

That remark of the Marchioness made me
understand, and determined me to grasp "the
skirts of happy chance."  I courted every
semblance of opportunity, and I see now, as then,
how fateful a factor opportunity must be with all
who aim at a public career.  Even the born singer
may waste divine gifts for want of opportunity,
and the possessor of highly developed vocal talent
may entirely sink into obscurity without it.

Among students of similar talent and health she
who succeeds is the one with alert mind, who is
ever on the *qui vive* for her chance.  The girl
who fails is generally lacking in mental and
physical energy—too prone to believe that
opportunity on ready foot trips unsought even to the
laggard's door.  The born or inspired singer
always sings, although in isolated cases want of
opportunity may limit the sphere of those rarely
endowed people.

While it is true that the present time offers
extraordinary scope for art by reason of a
wide-spread knowledge on all subjects, I think the
increased chances of success which the growing
popularity of music offers have been largely
discounted by the numbers of performers and
professors who, without proper qualifications
have set themselves up as apostles of music,
and unfairly and recklessly overcrowded a
profession which should be exceptionally difficult
to enter.

No doubt many aspirants—I speak solely of
women—are encouraged and flattered by the fact
that in the profession of music women fare better
than in any other walk of life, and the monetary
reward of great singers and teachers may be said
to have reached a stage of almost extravagant
appreciation.

In my opinion the great singers of our day would
not be so few if there were more competent
teachers and a more complete realisation of the
greatness of the task.  It is not that lovely voices
are rarer than formerly, or talent more sparingly
given of God.  The piano or violin student will
devote ten years to the technique of his instrument,
while the vocalist or the teacher too often
regards research at an end after studying a year or
two, or even a few months only.

Just here, however, I should like to make it
plain that the student who cannot give a promising
account of herself after eighteen months' thorough
study is, to my mind, never likely to do really great
things.  I do not mean for a moment that she
should then be a full-fledged singer, but that she
should be able to give clear indications as to future
possibilities.

The real study actually begins after one has
come before the public, and it is to subsequent
development that the most earnest attention should
be paid.  Year after year the artiste will make
striking progress if music be really in her soul, and
from life and its varied experiences she will learn
interpretative nuances which no other teacher can
bestow.  Let me say, too, that in this life-long
study the singer must not be too rigidly bound by
the tenets of technique.  She must think and feel
for herself, and to a great extent be guided by her
individuality.

In too many cases the vocal student has only the
merest smattering of knowledge about the
marvellous and delicate mechanism that produces the
singing voice.  Languages and travel, too,
are neglected for one reason or another,
chiefly through the spirit of haste, the desire
to reach ends by short cuts such as were unknown
to the old Italian masters, who taught on
physiological principles that were, on the
whole, marvellously accurate; although in many
respects we have greatly progressed since their day.

In every country with which I am familiar—and
they are many—I have been struck by the voices
maimed or entirely ruined by ignorant tuition.  Of
course it is not possible for me to hear more than
a few of the students who seek my opinion on their
voices, for I frequently have thirty or forty such
applications in a single day; but almost without
exception I find those I can hear following
methods which are causing positive injury to the
delicate vocal chords.

In all learned and mechanical professions certain
technical tests are insisted on before a person is
accepted as an authority; but in music it is not so.
Any charlatan, whose only qualifications may be
confidence and casual observation, may set up as
a teacher and persistently trick the public, which
is only too easily deceived.  I speak strongly on
this subject, having in mind the cruel vocal havoc
to which I have just referred.  Just as the engineer
must know the structure and parts of his engine,
or the architect the nature and relative values of
material as well as the principles of design, so
must the would-be singer understand the easily
injured structure and delicate functions of voice
mechanism.

A knowledge of the structure of the larynx, and
the general muscular mechanism of voice-production,
unequalled in delicacy anywhere in the human
body save perhaps in eye and ear, will be a
revelation, a very helpful revelation, to the student.
And unless the structure of the larynx be understood,
the "attack," or application of the air blast
to the vocal strands, cannot be perfect.

If the student seeks the best, she must get a
complete understanding of the methods of the old
Italian masters, as sculptors turn to the Greek for
what is soundest and noblest in the plastic art.
Together with this recommendation, I join my
condemnation of the tremolo and "white" voice so
dear to many Italian singers.

I cannot too forcibly insist that the mere possession
of a lovely voice is only the basis of vocal art.
Nature occasionally startles one by the prodigality
of her gifts, but no student has any right to expect
to sing by inspiration, any more than an athlete
may expect to win a race because he is naturally
fleet of foot.

Methods of breathing, "attack," and the use of
the registers must all be perfectly understood by
the successful singer, who should likewise be
complete master of all details relating to the structure
and use of those parts above the voice box, and be
convinced of the necessity of a perfectly controlled
chest expansion in the production of tone.

For perfect singing, correct breathing, strange
as it may sound, is even more essential than a
beautiful voice.  No matter how exquisite the
vocal organ may be, its beauty cannot be
adequately demonstrated without proper breath
control.  Here is one of the old Italian secrets
which many singers of to-day wholly lack, because
they are unwilling to give the necessary time for
the full development of breathing power and
control.  Phrasing, tone, resonance, expression,
all depend upon respiration; and in my opinion
musical students, even when too young to be
allowed the free use of the voice, should be
thoroughly taught the principles of breathing.

Indeed, the science of taking breath is a study
peculiarly suited to the years of childhood and
adolescence; for apart from other considerations,
there are few things so conducive to good health
as good breathing.  And, owing to the greater
elasticity of the human frame in the time of youth,
the chest is then more easily developed and
expanded.

Any exercises that give strength to the
diaphragm are of special value, since this is the
principal muscle of inspiration.  Expiration,
however, is not so easily controlled as inspiration, and
on that score calls for the most careful practice.
Faulty or hurried breathing always interferes with
the true vibration of the vocal strands, and all
circumstances that tend toward either should be
scrupulously avoided; more especially at the time
of a singer's first entrance on the stage or concert
platform, which is always a moment of nervousness
and doubt.

It is an excellent practice for a nervous singer
to take a few deep breaths on entering, and the
inexperienced should avoid numbers with exacting
opening bars.

Few people, by the way, realise how much even
the most famous of singers is at the mercy of the
audience, and how a wave of indifference or apathy
borne from the serried thousands of a theatre or
concert-hall can often take all the colour out of
the loveliest voice, and all the necessary abandon
out of an interpretation.  I have known some
of the greatest singers of our day—and myself,
too—to fall incredibly below their normal
standard for no other reason than that of
irresponsiveness on the part of their audience.
In this respect I confess I am myself extremely
sensitive.  I can almost always give my best when
I feel that the heart of the audience bids me excel.

Even a good general knowledge of music does
not imply knowledge of scientific voice production.
Correct vocalisation is only possible on
strict physiological principles.  I insist upon this,
because it is rational and logical.  In this way
faults are better recognised and explained; the
student may the more surely guide her own
development or effectively restore an injured voice,
and generally advance her physical welfare, which
is a vital point.

Therefore those who do not believe in attainment
through patient and intelligent labour would
do well to abandon an art career, for that way
lies disappointment.  "Hasten slowly" applies
supremely in the highest voice culture; but,
unhappily, this is not the note of our age.

According to my idea, the student of singing can
best learn this subtle and complex art in those
centres where music has been longest established
and most generally practised; where it is, in a
word, part of the daily life of the people rather
than the recreation or luxury of the few.  For this
reason I consistently recommend study in Italy,
France, and Germany, and particularly for
American, Canadian, English, and Australian
students.  I put my own country last, in the spirit
of courtesy; but as a producer of voices it really
ought to come first in consideration.

As I have said, I am opposed to every girl with
a little knowledge of music embracing the art as
a profession merely because she considers it more
"genteel" than other avenues to earning a livelihood.
A girl should have some real qualification
before she looks forward to becoming a professional
singer.  Kindly and necessarily biassed
compliments from relatives and friends on the
singing of a few ballads in the home-circle or at an
amateur concert should not be sufficient to thrust
her upon the patience of the musical public.  High
and unprejudiced authority should be sought for
her guidance, preferably from a singer who knows
the conditions and atmosphere of the world's
greatest musical centres.

In this regard a person who has had only local
experience cannot possibly be a good judge of
what is needed for the career of a great singer.
An invaluable factor in musical success is the study
of foreign languages.  These are always most
successfully acquired in the countries where they
are the native tongue.

Thus, residence in the established centres of
music in the Old World and intimacy with their
language and traditions give the student a surety
and authority in her work that cannot possibly be
gained in any other way.  Of course, robust
physical health is of paramount importance.
Without it a great vocal career is absolutely barred.

I admit that there is much in a singer's life
conducive to this physical robustness; as, for example,
the vigorous use of the breathing apparatus.  But
this may be more than counteracted by late hours,
much travelling by night, concentrated efforts, and
disappointment resulting from the caprice of public
taste or other causes.  Plenty of fresh air, plain
food, a reasonable amount of exercise, and eight
or nine hours' sleep are all necessary to the young
singer, whose larynx is quick to reflect the general
physical condition.

At the same time, common sense and individual
temperament should be the best of all health rules.
I myself always suffer in a steam-heated
apartment; I consider the general overheating in
America a menace, and never allow the temperature
of my rooms to rise above 60 degrees; while
at the same time the whole range of my apartments
is continually freshened with pure air.

The singer should aim at becoming a hardy
plant rather than a hot-house flower.  I know that
a girl with a voice receives a painful revelation of
the delicacy of her vocal organs when she passes
from a superheated room to the low temperature of
a winter's day outside.  But I consider dry feet
far more important than the muffling up of the
throat on raw, slushy days.

A singer's diet should include plenty of fresh
fruit and vegetables.  I myself take for breakfast
only a cup of tea and a little toast.  At luncheon
I have a cutlet or a little chicken, some stewed fruit,
with a light salad, but no rich food.  My chief
meal is, of course, dinner, which I take rather late
at night, generally at 7.45, unless I am singing,
when I take a light—very light—meal about five
in the afternoon.

A question often asked me is, "How early should
a girl begin the more serious business of voice
culture?"  Never before she is seventeen.  Even
a limited study before that age will interfere with
the development of the vocal organs, and perhaps
do them serious injury.  Among my daily letters
are many from girls of fifteen and sixteen asking
for a hearing; but I always tell them they are too
young, however promising.  As to the age limit
the other way, I feel it would be impossible to give
any good general advice.

I would point out, in this connection, that some
artists of world-wide repute are singing as well
today as they did twenty years ago, while others have
broken down in a few short years, or have become
hopelessly defective in their vocal results.  It is
all a question of correct or incorrect methods.

Apropos of the need for foreign languages, I
recall an amusing episode.  Not long after my
début in Brussels as Gilda in "Rigoletto," I began
to study the opera of "Lakmé" under the direction
of Delibes, its composer.  But my pronunciation
of French at that time was evidently considered
by the directors of the opera as the French
of Stratford-atte-Bowe, and they doubted whether
I ought to sing in "Lakmé" at all.  One day,
much perplexed in council, they sent for the
composer, and told him their troubles.  "Qu'elle
chante en chinois, si elle veut," cried Delibes,
pounding the table with angry fist, "mais qu'elle
chante mon opéra!" ("She may sing in Chinese
if she likes, so long as she sings my opera.")  But I
was really backward in French, and on that account
set to work and studied no less than six hours a day
under a thoroughly competent Brussels teacher.

At the same time, I should warn the student to
be careful not to overdo her work, in her
enthusiasm for all the musical advantages she sees
about her.  I think music should be thoroughly
known before it is sung.  It is a serious tax on
the voice to sit down at the piano and try
to sing an aria with which the singer is not
familiar.  Half an hour's practice is enough, unless
the student has exceptional physique; in that
case I should say half an hour every morning and
afternoon.

I have met scores of students abroad whose
mistaken diligence impels them to practise for
hours at a stretch.  Such an error may do
irretrievable harm to a voice.  It is well to realise
that the entire vocal mechanism is an exquisitely
delicate instrument, capable of being played upon
by its owner in a way almost impersonal, so that
ignorance may mean fatal injury.  For this reason
no enthusiasm would induce practice to the extent
of tiring the voice.

As to how long this foreign study should last,
this, of course, depends upon the mental capacity
of the student.  Young singers of many nations
cite to me my own case; for after nine months'
study in Paris, I came out as a full-fledged prima
donna at the Brussels Opera House.  But I may
say at once that mine was an exceptional case, for
I was born with a natural trill and an absolute
control of breath, so that as a child of seven I was
as far advanced naturally as some mature students
are after years of patient study.

In connection with the natural trill, my
fellow-pupils at college in East Melbourne, Australia,
used to gather round me and say curiously,
"Nellie, make that funny noise in your throat."  It
amused them.  But to assume that the *bel canto*
of perfect technique is to be acquired after nine
months' foreign study would be unwise.  On the
other hand, as I have already stated, if a girl cannot
give good account of herself after eighteen months'
serious study, I think she is not destined to
illuminate vocal art.

Still, any ordinary term spent in vocal study
cannot be regarded as wasted, for no system of
physical exercise is so beneficial to a woman as that
involved in the higher branches of vocal culture.
At least the disappointed one carries back with
her a pleasing and expressive voice for ordinary
conversation.  Here is a matter to which little
attention is paid, yet how much pleasure does a
beautiful speaking voice convey!  It is surely a
valuable asset all through life.

As to extraneous aids to vocal study, there is
none so beneficial as the constant hearing of great
singers in the roles which have secured them fame.
Indeed, no matter what branch of music a girl
selects for her special study, I should strongly urge
her to hear all the fine music possible, whether
opera, orchestra, concert, or oratorio.  She can
learn something valuable from all.  Let me
emphasise this point, for in this way the student
will see theory put into practice.  It is as if a
young painter should visit the marvellous Tribuna
of the Uffizi Palace in Florence, where the supreme
examples of the great masters are hung; or the
young sculptor should study Michel Angelo in the
vast galleries of the Vatican.  Thus no opportunity
of hearing accepted interpreters should be lost.

The student who goes to Europe, of course, has
exceptional opportunities all the year round; but
the American or English girl can hear in New
York or London during the musical season a
combination of singers, conductors, and
instrumentalists that is the best of the entire musical
world.

In addition, she should read everything authoritative
on music and musicians, at the same time
*not* confining herself to musical subjects.  For a
wide and wise reading of everything that broadens
the mind and gives one a truer knowledge of art
and nature is of supreme importance.  Nothing
so helps the interpretative sense as a fine and
cultivated imagination, and an appreciation of nature's
beauties, great paintings, statuary, and the best
literature gives one an artistic grasp not possible
to the student who is merely well informed on
musical matters.

While I am a strong advocate of foreign study,
I think it a pity that so many American and British
students elect to swell permanently the over-crowded
ranks of the musical profession on the
continent of Europe instead of returning to the less
crowded centres of their home lands, and giving
their compatriots the benefit of their experience
and example.  It is given to few of us to attain
world prominence, and those to whom such fame
is manifestly impossible should not fear to try for
the best their own country offers, which may be a
great and dignified meed.

Adequate study in Europe requires a good deal
of money.  For most young girls a chaperon or
companion is essential; although there are a
number of places where a solitary young student
may find the comfort and the protection of a home.
Where this is possible the expenses are naturally
much less.

The leading professors on the Continent charge
from a guinea to two guineas a lesson, with a certain
reduction of an extended term.  Three lessons a
week are usual.  As to the expenses of living, even
on the most moderate scale they cannot be reasonably
estimated at less than five guineas a week for
board, dress, allowance, concert and opera tickets,
and general expenses.  This, with lessons extending
over eighteen months or more, runs into a
considerable sum.

To the student with wealth as well as voice the
way would appear smooth; yet I would offer a
word of warning.  First, the flattery of friends and
possibly unscrupulous advisers is dangerous.
Besides, the fact of affluence tends to diminish the
sense of responsibility.  Money, it must be borne
in mind, cannot buy purity of tone, temperament,
or correct breathing.  These entail hard work,
even with natural gifts.  One cannot buy brains
with money, or even the ability to appreciate the
brains of others, and the loveliest voice that ever
charmed the world must be guided and used
through the intellect; otherwise it must fall far
short of the highest standard.

The point is that a wealthy student may become
slack, and forget how wide must be the culture of a
great singer.  A complete study of piano, counterpoint,
and harmony are as necessary as grammar to
the spoken language; and all that is best in this
big, busy world must be seized upon and brought
into service, for divine music is an exigent goddess.

The poor student with an exceptional voice is
unfortunately placed, and advice to her must be of
a negative kind.  She may fall into the mistake of
thinking that if she can get into choir or chorus she
will be advancing to some extent.  But while a
well-trained voice may be used in a chorus without
serious harm, the girl who knows nothing about
placing her voice, and is prodigal in the use of it,
may find chorus work most injurious.

Many ambitious young women save money with
the aim of attending a musical college.  This is an
education I never advocate, for I believe in
individual training.  No student can attain the best
results in a class where personal supervision is a
matter of perfunctory duty.  Certainly good
singers have come from musical colleges, but they
have had temperament and personality such as rise
above the system.  And to work at any trade or
profession while cultivating the voice is a
questionable arrangement, for the student takes vitality
from the voice and places it in another direction.

I doubt if one could with correctness summarily
assign characteristics to the vocal students of the
different nations; and, besides, one likes to think
of music as cosmopolitan—universal in its inspiration
and influence.  The Italian girl is perhaps
the readiest to help her song by facial expression,
the French girl the first to master the poetic
message, and the German the most thorough in
all-round pursuit of musical knowledge.  Many
American and British students are too easily
satisfied, and often, on securing a certain measure of
success at their first public appearance, refrain
from further study at the very time that their work
should be regarded as beginning in real earnest.

As to the voices of the different nations with
which I am familiar, it is a difficult and thankless
task to summarise them within the inadequate limit
of a few lines.  I should say, however, that the
voices of Italy are the most natural.  They are the
voices of the sun; just as in my native land,
Australia, the Italy of the southern hemisphere,
the voices seem to glint and vibrate as it with liquid
sunlight.  There is in these Southern voices a
resonance rarely found in voices of the North.

As to Germany, I should say that the singing
voices are more the result of science than of
nature—less buoyant, less responsive, yet superb in their
own way.  The great singers of France, to my
mind, could be more accurately described as great
*diseurs*, so exquisitely are they practised in the art
of diction.  No singers so effectively show the
beauty or importance of the words sung.

The cosmopolitan conditions of America seem
to me to have so far militated against the development
of any particular voice or school that could
be accurately labelled "American," while the
English voices are particularly adapted for concert
and oratorio singing.

Owing to the characteristic reserve of the
English people, they are, as a rule, slow to commit
themselves to that temperamental abandon which
is essential to operatic interpretation.  I am,
however, glad to be able to say without any reserve
that I consider the English choruses the finest in
the world.  I refer more specially to the great
choirs heard at the English musical festivals.
What volume and beauty of tone, what precision
and light and shade, are embodied in their work!
Personally, if I can be said to dislike any form of
music, it is oratorio; but when I hear an English
chorus at a festival in Birmingham, Leeds, Bristol,
or Worcester, I am almost persuaded to become an
oratorio enthusiast.

This paper would not be complete without some
reference to personal appearance as an asset in a
singer's career.  There is much suggestion,
expression even, in the turn of a curl.  The woman who
knows how to "make up" effectively is more of an
artist than the one who does not.  The whole thing
makes for artistic completeness.

I have known handsome women appear unattractive
on the stage or platform merely because they
relied entirely on their natural physical gifts
without considering how these were affected by the
space, and structural and lighting conditions, of
the building in which they sang.  There are cases
where good looks are the main reason for the
exploitation of a singer; but such favour is bound
to be short-lived, and no artistic reputation can be
long maintained on so false a basis.

As to securing an introduction to the public, I
have little to say beyond the fact that ability will
surely find its way.  In my own path great
obstacles were placed, but I do not think anything
in this world could have hindered me from becoming
a singer.  I have sung to an audience of two,
and such was my girlish enthusiasm that I have
even acted as my own billposter, with a pot of
paste procured from a hotel kitchen.  The occasion
was a chanty concert at an Australian seaside
resort for the purpose of repairing a neglected
country cemetery.  Later I had to abandon
proposed concerts because there was not enough
support to pay for the lighting of the hall.  Yet I
persevered, and my chance came.  It is well to
aim at the highest, yet in my heart of hearts I
believe that every really great singer is born rather
than made.

No teacher living can impart temperament
and an infallible ear for music.  A perfect
chest, larynx, and resonance chambers are also
gifts of God; and so, too, are the musical intuition,
the ravishing voice, the industry, the ambition,
and the perfect physical health, which are all
attributes of vocalists who have become really
great.

But below that heavenly gifted circle there are
many niches which should be filled, not by casual
observers, but by qualified musicians, to whom hard
and patient work has brought attainments second
only to those fortunate creatures who have sprung
into the musical arena, like Minerva, fully
equipped.





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.. _`HINTS ON THE CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE.`:

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   HINTS ON THE CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE.

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   By ENRICO CARUSO.

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It has often struck me, in a lengthy experience
as a singer, that there is one point in particular
about the human voice which is far too little
appreciated by the rising generation of aspiring
vocalists, and that is its wonderful reciprocity.
Tend it, nurse it, "feed it on a proper diet," and
it will invariably comport itself in the most amiable
manner possible.  But neglect it, treat it as an
organ which is best left to look after itself, and the
voice will at once, in revenge for this callous
behaviour, retaliate by behaving itself in a manner
which is perhaps best described as of the
"hooliganistic" order.

And yet, as an actual fact, but a very small
percentage indeed of would-be singers ever really
seem to think it worth their while to bear in mind
this axiom, for axiom it surely is, that the voice
requires proper care and proper exercise to keep it
in its best form just as much as is a certain amount
of exercise necessary to the maintenance of good
health in every human being.

Unfortunately, however, there would seem to be
a prevalent impression among many amateur and
not a few professional singers that singing is an
art which can be acquired in quite a short time.
Thus, is it not curious that while many students of
the piano or the violin will willingly devote years
of strenuous and conscientious practice to the study
of the technique of these instruments, would-be
singers frequently seem to expect to learn how to
use their voice to the best advantage after a period
of vocal practice extending, maybe, over a year or
so, but more often even over only a few months?
This policy, I need scarcely remark, is absolutely
ruinous to the future careers of young singers, for
no matter how naturally talented any individual
vocalist may be, he or she cannot possibly produce
the best results as a singer unless the particular
organs brought into play in the process of singing
have been subjected to a proper and sufficiently
long course of training.  Since the days of the
old Italian masters there can be no shadow of
doubt that, musically, we have advanced considerably;
but sometimes, when I think of the rather
slipshod methods of cultivating the voice advocated
by many so-called "professors" to-day, the
thought impresses itself on my mind that the
detailed principles of the old Italian masters who,
above all other considerations, insisted on a long
course of voice training as being the only possible
means to the attainment of the best art, possessed
more to recommend them than do many of the
modern "artifices" of voice-cultivation proffered
by many teachers of singing to-day.

In a short article, of course, it is obviously
impossible to go in detail into all the rules which should
be observed by singers who are prepared to undertake
the task of cultivating their voices on a
conscientious and sound basis.  At the same time, I
hope to be able to suggest various hints and
wrinkles which should prove of real value to
aspiring singers.

In the first place, therefore, let me say at once
that it is the most fatal of all errors for a singer to
make too much use of the voice, for the muscles
of the larynx are so delicate that they cannot
possibly stand the strain of the "learn-to-sing-in-a-hurry"
methods of those who hope to attain the
highest point of proficiency without devoting
sufficient time to that "drudgery" which is
absolutely essential to the real and perfect cultivation
of the voice.

For this all-important reason I would counsel
singers to see to it at all times that in the early days
of their training they do not devote too much time
to practice.  If they will take my advice, until they
become thoroughly proficient in "managing" the
voice—a happy state of affairs which can only be
acquired after long practice—they will at first never
devote more than fifteen minutes a day—in the
early morning is, perhaps, the best time—to
practice.  I can readily realise that this must seem
a very short time to enthusiasts who are willing to
give up all their spare time to the study of voice
cultivation, but it is, nevertheless, quite long
enough, for the slightest strain put upon the voice
may retard a singer's progress by months, while,
on the other hand, as I pointed out at the beginning
of this article, if the singer will only bear in mind
that the voice requires the most careful "nursing"
of perhaps all the organs, and must on no account
be strained, he will soon find that, though he may
not be aware of any improvement in it, his voice
is, nevertheless, slowly but surely improving and
gaining in strength through his gradually-growing
knowledge of technique.

Another point in the cultivation of the voice
which I often think is not sufficiently strongly
emphasised to-day is the fact that young singers
can improve their methods in the most extraordinarily
rapid manner by studying the methods of
other and more experienced singers.  In singing,
as in the cultivation of the other arts, in time the
student will get what he works for, but it is surely
unreasonable for him to expect to sing effectively
by his own inspiration.  He will be wise, therefore,
to seize every opportunity of studying as closely as
possible the methods of those who have thoroughly
mastered the technique of singing.  For true art,
of course, there must be more than technique, but
I would point out that in singing there is no art
without sound methods of execution, which, after
all, to all intents and purposes constitute technique.
In the cultivation of expression, technique, and
sympathy in the voice, there is no better teacher
than "a visit to the opera."  Still, I make no
doubt that of the hundreds of aspiring singers who
visit the opera during the season but very few
indeed would care to go through the years of
drudgery as conscientiously as have those who
seem to sing so easily and to combine the art of
acting and singing at the same time with equal
facility.  After all, the highest art lies in the
concealment of that art, and I take it that it is because
a really proficient opera singer accomplishes his
performance with such apparent ease that the
difficulties of operatic singing are so little
appreciated.

Still, as I have said, I am strongly of the opinion
that young singers can learn much from studying
the methods of operatic vocalists, that is to say,
when they have mastered the rudiments of voice
cultivation, into which I need not enter here, for
my object is rather to show singers various methods
by which they can attain the highest art when they
have served a sufficient apprenticeship under
masters whose duty it is to teach them the
elementary rules of singing.

For my own part, I find that a singer's life, with
its constant rehearsals and performances, is such a
busy one that not much opportunity is allowed him
for indulging in outdoor exercise.  Many other
enthusiastic singers doubtless find themselves
situated in very similar straits, not perhaps on
account of their public engagements, but through
the "calls" made upon their time by business,
social, or domestic duties.  In the cultivation of
the voice, however, a certain amount of exercise is
essential to good health, as, by the same token,
is good health a *sine quâ non* to the attainment of
the highest art in singing.  It may be of service,
therefore, if I explain the rules I observe when I
find the calls upon my time too numerous to enable
me to get as much exercise as I should otherwise like.

No matter how busy I am, when I rise in the
morning I invariably indulge in a few simple
physical exercises, similar in character to those I
used to practise when, as a young man, the time
came for me to serve my king and country as a
*soldato*, or, if I feel that these are becoming
monotonous, for a few minutes I find practice with
a pair of dumb-bells—not too heavy, by the
way—very beneficial.  But save these mild forms of
relaxation I have, as a rule, to rest content with, in
the way of outdoor exercise, an occasional motor
drive.  Nevertheless, I would point out that, in
itself, singing, with its constant deep inhalation, is
by no means inconsiderable exercise, though, to be
sure, I am well aware that it cannot be so health-giving
in its effects as actual exercise in the open air.

Yes, past a doubt, young singers can learn much
about the highest art of the cultivation of the voice
from watching the knowledge of technique of our
best operatic artists, and from observing their
methods of "managing" the voice.  Still, to
thoroughly grasp the progress of the opera-singer's
art, it will be necessary for students to appreciate
the fact that Italian singing has had two
important culminating periods, each of which was
illustrated by a group of great singers, the first of
which was made up of pupils of Bernacchi,
Pistocchi, Francesca Cuzzoni, and other
contemporary teachers.  These great singers brought
the art of *bel canto* to as near a state of perfection
as has ever been known.  But one has to remember
the conditions under which they sang.

Thus Victor Maurel writes:—"In the days of
the schools of the art of *bel canto* the masters did
not have to take truth for expression (*l'expression
juste*) into account, for the singer was not required
to render the sentiments of the *dramatis personæ*
with verisimilitude; all that was demanded of him
was harmonious sounds, the *bel canto*."  In other
words, all that the singer had to do was to sing, for
the emotions themselves had not to be portrayed,
the psychical character of the *dramatis personæ*
not being taken into account.

In consequence, the perfection of the singer's
voice was but slightly interfered with, as, at
most, he had little or no acting to do, a
conventional oratorical gesture or two being
considered quite sufficient for the fashion of
the period.  And it is scarcely necessary to
remark that the great singers of this period
were skilful enough musicians to prevent such
unimportant gestures, which hardly deserve
the dignity of the name of acting, from
being an obstacle to the high quality of their
singing.

In the second period of Italian singing, however,
the period which coincides with the
Rossini-Donizetti-Bellini period of opera in its heydey, the
conditions, we find, were greatly altered.  The
music at this time was at once more dramatic and
more scenic, and although the singing was still *bel
canto*, the opera singer of the period was called
upon not only to sing well, but to sing dramatically,
though it must be said that the music itself provided
larger scope for the actor's art, in that it gave
more favourable opportunity for specialising and
differentiating the emotions.

In "The Opera Past and Present" we find the
following intensely interesting allusion to these two
great culminating periods of Italian singing:—"A
comparison of these two periods of Italian singing
indicates the direction matters have taken with the
opera singer from Handel's time to our own.
From then to now he has had to face an
ever-increasing accumulation of untoward conditions;
his professional work has become more and more
complicated.  From Rossini's time down to this
the purely musical difficulties he has had to face
have been constantly on the increase—complexity
of musical structure, rhythmic complications,
hazardous intonations.

"He has to fight against the more and more
brilliant style of instrumentation, often pushed to
a point where the greatest stress of vocal effort is
required of him to make himself heard above the
orchestral din; more and better acting is demanded
of him, he finds the vague generalities of
histrionism no longer of avail; for these must make
way for a highly specialised, real-seeming dramatic
impersonation; intellectually and physically his
task has been doubled and trebled.  Above all,
the sheer nervous tension of situations and music
has so increased as to make due self-control on his
part less easy.  The opera singer's position to-day
is verily no joke; he has to face and conquer
difficulties such as the great *bel cantists* of the Handel
period never dreamt of."

It has ever been my contention that the conscientious
artist should carefully read and re-read
the whole libretto, so as to inform himself of the
poet's purpose and meaning in the construction and
development of the plot, as well as to ever bear in
mind his conception of the composer's idea of how
the poetry and the various aspects of mind of the
characters should be aptly and effectively musicked
and interpreted so as to awaken a kindred, or
appreciative, feeling in the minds of his hearers.

Besides this, the opera singer who aspires to rise
to great heights must possess a keen nervous
susceptibility, for only a man or woman of high
nervous temperament can reasonably hope to
succeed as a lyrico-dramatic artist.  Again, in the
great operas a most severe strain is placed upon
the leading singers, for while they are portraying
various emotions—-Love, Hate, Rage, or Laughter—they
have, at the same time, to watch the conductor
with most minute care lest they fail in time
and rhythm.

In fine, though I think but few other than really
conscientious students of singing entirely
appreciate the fact, the opera-singer of to-day is called
upon to possess a far greater knowledge of vocal
technique than was ever demanded of him before
in the history of singing, as those "good and golden
days"—golden only to the moderate performer
with but little ambition—when the singer who
perhaps scarcely knew more than a few notes of
music could, nevertheless, still arouse the plaudits
of the public are gone—never to return.

I hope, by the way, that it will not be thought
that I have entered too technically into the
requirements demanded from an aspirant to operatic fame
to-day.  I scarcely think, however, that I can
have done so, for I feel sure every really aspiring
vocalist would prefer to know the exact heights to
which he must cultivate his voice either on the
operatic stage or concert platform, or even for the
drawing-room, that is to say, if he is ever to make
a great name for himself in preference to resting
content to remain one of the "moderates," of which
the musical profession is altogether already too
full, not because there is a lack of singers with
good voices, but largely, as I have always maintained,
because there is a far too prevalent tendency
amongst singers these days to shirk the real hard
work which must be accomplished before lasting
success can be attained.

In conclusion, in order to allow singers' voices
to develop in a satisfactory manner, let me counsel
them never to attempt those selections in public
the range of which taxes and strains them to the
utmost, for when a singer "exceeds" his proper
range injury to the throat is always liable to follow.
Better rather, therefore, is it that a song should be
transposed to a lower key if a singer is determined
to attempt it than that the voice should be unduly
taxed.

And now I will say *addio*, though I would add
that it is my sincere hope that some of the few hints
I have given on the cultivation of the voice and
of the heights of excellence to which ambitious
singers should aspire may prove of real value to
those with sufficient pluck to face the task of studying
the art of the cultivation of the voice in a really
conscientious manner.  Hard work accomplishes
wonders where the voice is concerned.  Let me,
therefore, counsel singers never to despair of
attaining a state as near to perfection as possible,
for it is those who are most alive to their own
imperfections who will assuredly "go farthest" in
the singing world.





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.. _`HOW TO ATTAIN SUCCESS IN SINGING.`:

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   HOW TO ATTAIN SUCCESS IN SINGING.

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   By BEN DAVIES.

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To a certain extent it must be admitted at once
that it is undoubtedly true that there is no royal,
infallible road to success in the acquirement of
perfect mastery over any art.  At the same time,
however, I would lay particular stress on the fact
that it is equally true that there are not a few hints
and wrinkles which, if studiously borne in mind
and practised, must inevitably prove of real value
to all who will apply themselves to these said words
of advice in a thoroughly whole-hearted manner.

And, in particular, this somewhat trite aphorism
applies with great force to the art of learning to
sing, for the human voice, as every conscientious
student of music must be well aware, is an
exceptionally responsive organ.  Neglect it, and it will
assuredly "run to seed"; tend it carefully,
cultivate it in a common-sense manner, give it time to
"grow up," and it will reward you for your pains a
hundredfold.

Let me, therefore, try and give a few hints based
on an experience extending over more years than
I sometimes care to think about, which I trust will
prove of real value to aspiring singers.  I have
already said that there is no royal road to success
in the art of learning to sing, but, nevertheless, the
possessor of a moderate voice can improve his or
her voice in a most gratifying manner by studying
in the right way.  Bad habits in singing are peculiarly
difficult to rid oneself of; it is well to avoid the
risk of acquiring those bad habits by setting out
on the right road at once.  And having started,
push forward with unfailing energy and courage.

In the first place I would counsel the ambitious
singer, before proceeding with the development of
the voice to ascertain its real character and quality.
Thus, some voices, to the ear of the trained expert,
although they may be actually untrained and
undeveloped, nevertheless possess a decided and
marked quality when still uncultivated, while, on
the other hand, there are other voices whose
positive nature it is far from easy to determine.  I
would therefore emphasise the fact that it is not
upon its range and extent that the real character of
any individual voice depends, but rather upon its
quality and timbre.

I would lay stress, too, on another point—namely,
that the real power of expression is found
in the middle quality of every voice, and that it is
not force which tends to make this middle quality
full and resonant, but the cultivated ease and
steadiness by which the vocal sounds are produced
and sustained.  There is nothing more painful to
the ear of an expert musician than to hear a singer
forcing his voice in an effort to produce an effect
of expansion and vibration.  Would-be artistic
singers should thus nurse their voices with unfailing
care, for ease and steadiness are infinitely more
artistic than forcing the voice.

I will not here enter into the question of what
particular exercises the student should follow in
his or her early days, for such matters are too
elementary a kind and can safely be trusted to any
competent teacher.  At the same time I would
point out that the careful vocal student will be
wise to adopt the style of music best adapted to
his or her voice, for, obvious though this point
should be, it is none the less true that many singers
overlook the fact that to give the voice an adequate
chance of developing it should be cultivated and
"fed" upon the particular style of music for which
Nature would seem to have given it birth.

Again, I am taking it for granted that the singer
has safely weathered the storms inseparable from
the initial or drudgery side of voice cultivation—particular
care should be exercised in the selection
of songs, for I have frequently noted that many
singers who should surely have known better, have,
nevertheless, frequently failed to give their voices
a chance of showing their real merit by selecting
songs utterly unsuited to them.  Thus, maybe, a
male singer has gone out of his way to select a
song especially intended for a lady, while the latter
has shown a pronounced predilection for singing
songs intended solely for men.  The result of such
an unwise selection is surely best left to the
imagination.

And now let me say a few words about the
manner in which students should study their
musical compositions.  Almost every singer
possibly possesses some small peculiarity in this
respect, but I think I cannot do better than
quote the system of study followed out by
those two great artists, Grisi and Mario; for,
frankly, to a great extent their methods may,
among future generations, well become "standard
methods."

"In studying any new composition, whether the
most important opera, or the simplest ballad, they
followed a set plan.  It was this: the words were
first considered, and when the intention and
meaning of the text had been clearly ascertained and
fully understood, then, and not till then, the music
with which it was associated, was learnt by heart—every
salient feature and opportunity for effect being
most carefully thought over and decided upon."

"It was one of Mario's maxims, that unless a
singer had all he was singing about thoroughly in
his head, as well as in his throat, he could never do
himself justice."

"'But,' he used to say, 'if you get as familiar as
you should be with your work, then, when you are
in the humour, and in good voice, you can let
yourself go, with the certainty almost of producing the
effect you intend upon your audience—that is to
say, if you ever have any moments of inspiration.'"

"Whether in considering the dramatic effects to
be made by 'Raoul and Valentina,' or in taking in
hand 'Good-bye, Sweetheart,' or 'The Minstrel
Boy,' the plan they followed was the same.  The
words were thought of first, then the music, and,
with the words and music combined, particular
attention was given to the points to be dwelt on
and made prominent.  These latter were not
allowed to be too frequent, but were so chosen as
to make the deepest impression."

"The importance of such a plan as this can
hardly be overrated.  It seems not only to ensure
singing with intelligence, but to save a singer very
much unnecessary exertion, by marking down the
intervals where energy has to be used, as well as
those where the voice may, so to speak, be nursed
and kept in reserve."

Speaking of a pianoforte accompaniment, Mario
used to say, "The art of accompanying is displayed
in the following, aiding, and supporting the singer;
not in hurrying him, nor in drowning his voice."

An accompanist, in his opinion, should never
be timid; but, if uncertain of the notes to be played,
should, nevertheless, strike them firmly and
courageously, otherwise the singer gets confused,
loses confidence in himself and the accompaniment,
and the effect intended to be produced suffers
irretrievably in consequence.

I would commend a study of this system to the
aspiring singer, with every confidence that, if he
follows out the said methods, he will be assuredly
pursuing a policy than which there can be few better.

It may not now be out of place if I say a few
words on the act of production of the voice.  Many
beginners thus make the mistake of imagining that
to give the voice a proper chance of expanding to
the full it is necessary that the mouth should be
opened wide in the act of singing.

This, however, is quite an erroneous idea, for,
as a matter of actual, hard fact, the mouth should
not be too open when the act of singing is taking
place, though I would point out that when it is
opening the jaws should be allowed to fall in a
natural manner—in other words, by their own
weight—while, if the lips are, at the same time,
pressed gently against the teeth, the mouth
naturally assumes a pleasant form.  There is nothing
more appalling than to watch a singer indulging
in exaggerated facial contortions which may
perhaps impress a musical tyro as "imposing," but
which, nevertheless, are actually more often than
not nothing but a species of absurd affectation.

The management of the breath, of course, is to a
great extent a distinct and separate study in singing,
though I may perhaps be allowed to say that absolute
control of the breath is a *sine quâ non* to perfect
enunciation.  It will be well, therefore, for every
really ambitious singer to see to it that his or her
master possesses a thoroughly sound knowledge of
managing the breath; otherwise, all too early in their
careers, they may acquire habits which they will find
extremely difficult to break, for experience has taught
me that, as far as singing is concerned, bad habits
are possessed of unpleasantly tenacious qualities.

As far as the position of the body in singing is
concerned, the old-time rule that the shoulders
should be thrown back firmly and naturally is as
"in order" to-day as it was thirty years ago, while
that the chest should be steadily and not hurriedly
expanded is also an equally sound policy to pursue.
Manual Garcia recommended the following
exercises as of great value in increasing the power
and elasticity of the lungs.  I make no apology
for quoting these, as they cannot fail to prove worth
diligent study, though, especially at first, they will
be found distinctly exhausting, for which reason
young singers should make a point of practising
each exercise separately.

Gently and slowly inhale for a few seconds as
much air as the chest will contain.

After taking a deep breath, exhale again very
gently and slowly.

Fill the lungs, and keep them inflated for the
longest possible time.

Exhale completely, and leave the chest empty
as long as physical powers will conveniently allow.

In a short article it is obviously impossible for
me to go as deeply into the art of voice production
as I should like, though there is one "aspect" of
singing on which I would lay great stress—and that
is the value of colour in singing.

In a study of all the great composers and their
works, to the true student of music, it must be
patent at once that their methods of colouring vary
as greatly as do the *chefs-d'oeuvre* of masters of
the brush.

And yet, somehow or other, I do not think that
I am wandering away from the straight road of
Truth when I say that, as a general rule, the
mediocre singer but seldom realises that there is
such a thing as colour in singing.  What is the
result?  It is the natural result of cause and effect.
The interpretation of the ordinary singer resembles
to no small extent the work of an artist who
sketches out an outline drawing which, in detail, no
doubt is accurate and thoroughly praiseworthy in
every way; but when compared to a painting with
its appealing richness of tone and colour it seems
a puny thing indeed.

Yes, it is colour that the average singer utterly
lacks.  But let me hasten to say at once that for
this sin of omission he or she, as the case may be,
merits no real discredit, for the simple reason that
those who have only limited time to devote to the
study of singing naturally find that their training
does not, as a rule, reach the point when they are
sufficiently able exponents to be able to paint
pictures with their voices, much in the same way
as does the artist paint his pictures on canvas.
And in no small measure this sin of omission is as
much due to the methods of instruction of the
teacher as it is to the pupil's lack of advancement.

Yes, there can be no doubt that it is through lack
of study of these "finer" details in the art of
singing which causes many vocalists never to rise
above the mediocre.  Technically, they may be
thoroughly capable exponents, but unless they
realise the incalculable value of tone and colour in
music, they fail to extract from it its real poetical
worth.  Thus, when listening to Schumann—to
revert to pianoforte playing for a moment—"they
fail to wander hand in hand with the composer into
some glorious garden full of gaily-coloured flowers,
through trim paths lined by tall, stately trees.
They fail to see in Schumann's music gaily-plumaged
birds flitting here and there beneath a
blue sky with the warm rays of the sun toning
everything into summer as if by fairy hand."

It was an ardent student of pianoforte playing
who once thus described to me a composition of
Schumann's as played by a real master.  And with
singing it is much the same.  For some curious
reason your moderate singer will persist in
cherishing an utterly erroneous notion that every song
should be "treated" in one way—in other words,
that when framing his composition, the composer
mentally decreed that, to be rendered as he
intended it should be, every singer must sink his
individuality and render it in one way—and one
way only.

Was ever notion more unreasonable?  Surely it
is the most glaring error possible to imagine that
because a melody is simple, because it can be
rendered by the average singer after but comparatively
little practice, it must be impossible to
imbue it with beautiful effects; for no matter how
technically simple a composition may be, provided
a singer possesses real soul and a sense of poetry
he or she can bring out an exquisite beauty and
colour from the music which a mere mechanical
vocalist who merely regards a simple piece as an
easy piece to sing invariably fails to recognise.

It is the thoughtless and mechanical practice of
a really musical subject which undermines the
musical sense, for the practice of purely mechanical
matter should never be "dry" so long as the singer
thoroughly grasps the real objects to be attained
from that practice.  In other words, every exercise,
every piece of music that is sung, ought to be
rendered with a clearly-defined object.  It seems
to me that one of the most powerful reasons why
the results of years of study are so often unsatisfactory
lies in the fact that many singers are far
too early occupied with the study of compositions
of every sort, adding continually to their stock
without devoting sufficient time to the introspective
study of each and every piece.

What is the inevitable outcome of this hasty
and wholesale method of "learning to sing"?
Interpretations which, as I have said, are like
outline drawing, accurate enough in detail but
comparatively lacking in real soul and wanting
altogether in tone and colour.  I admit at once, as
among artists we all have our favourites, so among
song-writers the works of some appeal to us more
than do others, in that we respond to one or other
of them more readily than to the rest.  But, at the
same time, I would lay special emphasis on the fact
that every song, however simple, should be dealt
with by the singer like a separate picture in which
specially beautiful effects may be produced, according
to the quality and variety of tone and colour.

And not until singers realise that the composition
is but the raw material waiting to be imbued with
expression at their hands, waiting, in fine, to be given
life, personality, and real being, can they thoroughly
grasp the innermost meaning of music which, rendered
by the true artist, expresses more clearly than
any words ever written, the true emotions of the soul.

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