Style in Singing Part 10

[Music:

Che un giorno sol dur, Pa.s.sasti al par d'amor, ah! d'amor.]

It will thus be seen, from the numerous foregoing examples, that these ornaments and interpolations are not added from a vulgar idea of correcting or improving the composer's music, but are strictly in accordance with certain conventions thoroughly understood by both composer and singer. To omit them, or follow too closely the printed text, would be to ignore the epoch, school and character of the music; a careful study of which forms one of the cornerstones of Interpretation. A skilled artist will always strive to a.n.a.lyze and interpret the intentions of the author. If one to whom is confided the vocal part of a composer's work were to limit himself to a mathematically correct reproduction of the written notes only, instead of searching below the surface for the author's meaning, his performance would merely resemble the accurate execution of a _solfeggio_ by a conscientious scholar. It would have the same relation to high artistic effort as the photographic reproduction of a landscape bears to the same scene as viewed and transmitted to canvas by a great painter.

The sincere artist will carefully consider every detail. He will not be content to study his own part only, but will study the orchestral score which accompanies it. He will, in fact, follow the example set by good string-quartet players, who listen attentively to the other instruments during rehearsals, so that the perfect welding together of the different parts may form a h.o.m.ogeneous whole. Such an artist, in complete possession of the mechanical resources of his art, will utilize them all to embody perfectly that which, with the composer, existed only as a mental concept, inadequately transcribed, owing to the limitations of his media--pen, ink and paper.

And it is only when in possession of the authentic traditions of Oratorio and Opera that the singer, such as I have supposed, will be able to vivify these great creations, will be able to invest them with warmth and colour, and thus make clear all their meaning, reveal all their beauty.

CHAPTER V

RePERTOIRE

Although repertoire forms no integral part of Style, being rather the medium for its practical application, a few words on this important subject may not be out of place. The repertoire necessary for a singer may be divided into two sections, Opera and Concert. The latter includes Oratorio and Cantata.

In spoken Drama, a performer may begin his career by playing the youthful lovers, and end it by impersonating the heavy fathers. He may first sigh as Romeo, and later storm as Capulet. Not so in Opera, or lyric Drama, where the line of work to be followed is determined at the outset by the type of voice possessed by the aspirant, and which line (or _emploi_, as it is termed) he follows of necessity to the end of his professional career.

I know there are some few instances of artists who, later, have successfully adopted roles demanding another range than the one needed for their earlier efforts. But it is an open question whether the performer's instrument really changed. It must either have been wrongly cla.s.sified at one of the two periods, or the vocal keyboard--so to speak--transposed a little higher or lower. The character of the instrument remains the same; a viola strung as a violin would still retain its viola quality of tone.

The case is different where a soprano who may have begun by singing the florid roles of opera, has so gained in volume of voice and breadth of style as to warrant her devoting these acquisitions to characters requiring more dramatic force than was needed, or could be utilized, in coloratura roles. Mlle. Emma Calve, Mesdames Lilli Lehmann and Nordica, are notable examples of this. Each of these distinguished artists began her career by singing what are known as "Princess" roles, before successfully portraying Carmen or the Brunnhildes. As a rule, it is by singing many different roles that the lyric artist gains the skill and sureness that may ultimately render him famous in a few. Mlle. Grandjean, now princ.i.p.al first dramatic soprano at the Paris Opera, began her career there--after a few appearances at the Opera-Comique--by singing the very small part of the nurse Magdalene in Wagner's _Die Meistersinger_. Perseverance, if allied to ability, can accomplish much.

When the type of voice and the natural temperament of the singer do not accord--as sometimes happens--he would be unwise not to adhere to the work for which his vocal means, not his preference, are best adapted. To follow the contrary path, and essay roles requiring for their fitting expression more dramatic fire and intensity than his vocal instrument can supply, would be to shorten his career, owing to the certain deterioration and possible extinction of the voice. There are sufficient voiceless examples to prove, were proof needed, the truth of this a.s.sertion; and their atonic condition is due to the cause mentioned.

The first requisite for the aspirant who wishes to follow the operatic career is undoubtedly a voice possessed of the three essential factors of Quality, Power and Compa.s.s; what is termed in Italy a "_voce di teatro_," or voice for the theatre.

But an opera-singer is actor as well as singer, and in this direction more--much more--is now demanded of him than formerly. But to those possessed of what is known as the Instinct of the Theatre, or Scenic Instinct, the gestures and att.i.tudes of the operatic stage, being largely conventional, are soon acquired. Scenic accomplishments are undoubtedly necessary to the stage-singer, but his mimetic studies should not preclude him from making himself a thorough master of the vocal side of his art. There is a difference between an actor who sings, and a singer who acts.

Besides the mimetic faculty, certain physical gifts are also needed by the opera-singer, according to the requirements of the line of roles to which he is inevitably a.s.signed by the nature and type of his particular voice. It is true that stage artifice has now reached great perfection; but it has its limits, and cannot accomplish miracles.

It requires much imagination and great generosity on the part of the public to accept a tenor, whose waist-girth would not unfit him for the part of Sir John Falstaff, as a youthful and romantic Romeo, or a half-starved and emaciated Rodolphe. Illusion is rudely shaken, if not absolutely dispelled, in witnessing a soprano, whose age and _embonpoint_ are fully in evidence, impersonate a girlish Gilda or a consumptive Traviata. Such discrepancies may be overlooked by the public in the case of old established favourites, but it would be unfortunate for the debutant to commence with these drawbacks. And yet there have been a few famous artists whose extraordinary vocal talent atoned for other very p.r.o.nounced defects. Such an one was the Pisaroni, a celebrated contralto, said to have been so ill-favoured that she always forwarded her likeness to any opera director to whom she was personally unknown, who offered her an engagement. But so exceptional were her voice and talent, that certain of her contemporary artists have declared that by the time Pisaroni had reached the end of her first phrase, the public was already conquered.

As personal preference is very often mistaken for apt.i.tude or natural fitness, a lyric artist is not always the best judge as to which of the roles in his repertoire are really fitted to display his abilities to the best advantage. The singer combines in himself both instrument and performer; therefore he rarely, if ever, hears himself quite as does another person. Until possessed of the ripened judgment gained by experience, he would do well to be guided in this matter by one who, to the knowledge required, adds taste and discernment. That a liking or preference is sometimes mistaken for the apt.i.tude and gifts necessary for the successful carrying out of certain work, is too well known to be even questioned. It is the constantly recurring case of the low comedian who wishes to play Hamlet. A young tenor whose great vocal and physical advantages made him an ideal Duke in _Rigoletto_, a fascinating Almaviva in _Il Barbiere_, found but little enjoyment in life because his director refused to allow him to try Otello and Tannhauser, for which he was vocally unfitted. Never show the public what you cannot do, is the best advice that can be given in such cases. Even the finest and most experienced singers are occasionally liable to make mistakes in the choice of roles. Madame Patti once sang Carmen, and Madame Melba essayed Brunnhilde; but I am not aware that either of these famous cantatrices repeated the experiment.

For those who intend to follow a concert-singer's career, there is a vast literature of vocal music specially written for this purpose, from which to select. There are few modern operatic excerpts which do not suffer somewhat by being transplanted from the stage to the concert-platform. In no case is this more clearly proved than in the selections so frequently given from Wagner's music-dramas. Of course, I am speaking more particularly of those extracts which require the services of a vocalist. Such selections given in the concert-room are in distinct violation of the composer's own wishes, frequently expressed. Besides lacking the necessary adjuncts of gesture, costume and scenery, the musical conditions of the concert-room are very unfavourable to the unfortunate singer. He has to struggle to make himself heard above the sonorities of a powerful orchestra generally numbering over a hundred musicians, and placed directly around and behind him, instead of on a lower level, as in the case of a lyric theatre. Besides which, Wagner's works can now be heard in all large cities under the conditions necessary for their proper presentment, and as intended by their author-composer. Therefore, there is no longer the same reason as may have existed years ago, for the performance of extracts at purely symphonic concerts.

In cases where the singer has to select numbers for a symphonic concert and to be accompanied by an orchestra, there is a mine of wealth, not yet exhausted, in the operas of the older cla.s.sic composers. These, being less heavily orchestrated than the ultra modern works written for the theatre, do not suffer in the same degree from the different disposition of the orchestral instruments.

There are also a few vocal numbers with orchestral accompaniments written in the form of a "scena," such as the "Ah, perfido" of Beethoven, and the "Infelice" of Mendelssohn, which might possibly form an agreeable change to the frequenters of symphonic concerts, jaded a little, perhaps, with the oft-repeated "Dich theure Halle" and "Prayer" from _Tannhauser_.

In order to render them more in keeping with the conditions of symphonic concerts, orchestral accompaniments, to many songs by the cla.s.sic composers, have been made by excellent musicians from the original piano-part. The ethical question involved in the presentation of such works in a form other than that written by the composer, need not be considered here. Each artist must decide the matter for himself.

So far as songs with accompaniments for the piano are concerned, there is a mine practically inexhaustible and from which new treasures are constantly brought to light. For Recital purposes, the choice and sequence of a programme is second in importance only to its execution.

And although suppleness and adaptability are valuable, even necessary, qualities, in a concert-singer, he will sometimes find that certain songs--admirable in themselves--are unsuited to him, for reasons which it is not always possible to define. In such cases it is not a matter of compa.s.s, or _tessitura_, of voice, or even temperament; there is some hidden lack of sympathy between the composer and his interpreter.

A song should seem like a well-fitting garment; not only admirably made, but specially designed for the person who wears it.

CHAPTER VI

CONCLUSION

The art of Singing is at present in a period of transition; and all unsettled conditions are unsatisfactory. Former standards are being thrown down; and the new ones are not yet elected, or, if chosen, not yet firmly fixed in the places of the old.

All Arts have a period in their history when they seem to reach their culminating point of technical perfection. Perhaps this point is reached when the art is practised for its own sake, without giving much consideration or attributing special importance to what it expresses. Sculpture reached its apogee under the Greeks, who, more than any other race, prized Form--particularly as manifested in its highest expression, the human figure. Painting also was at its climax of technical development during the Renaissance, when life was full of movement, and costume picturesque. But at this period in each of the two arts, skill was regarded as of more importance than the subject.

In other words, the perfection of the sculptor's statue or the scene depicted by the painter was of more interest and importance than the object or scene itself. If the work were admirably executed, the story it told had relatively little importance.

Singing, which is speech conveyed through music, similarly reached its highest point of technical excellence when the voice of the singer was considered as little more than a mechanical instrument; when beauty of tone-quality and perfect virtuosity were the only ends for which to strive. This period was at its height with Farinelli, Caffarelli, Gizziello, and ended perhaps with Crescentini. That these singers possessed extraordinary technical skill, or execution, is amply attested by the exercises and airs, still extant, written for them by Porpora, Ha.s.se, Veracini, and others. That they also had musical sentiment or expression, is authoritatively proved from the emotion caused in their auditors by their performance of a slow movement or _cantabile_. But it was musical expression only, and as if performed on a solo instrument, as a flute or violin, which does not possess the faculty of uttering words. The operas in which these singers appeared had some plot or story, it is true; but its importance was of the slightest--a.n.a.logous to, and of the same value as, the subject in painting and sculpture at corresponding periods of their history.

But singing, like these two sister-arts, has pa.s.sed the period when it was, or could be, appreciated purely for the perfection of its technique. It has developed and broadened in other directions, and more now is demanded of the singer than mere mechanical perfection.

Composers--notably Gluck--began to perceive the great possibilities to be attained by the development of the Greek lyric ideal; that is, the presentation of the Poetic idea by, and through the medium of, music; instead of being, as formerly, merely its excuse, a framework for the musician upon which to hang melodies.

Although Gluck, like all innovators, was considered by his contemporaries as a revolutionary and iconoclast, he only strove to develop and perfect an art that had already existed in a primitive form. This was the art of animating a poetic idea by means of melopoeia; which Wagner later developed still further.

Gradually, two essentials of good singing--tone-quality and truth of intonation--began to be neglected. But why should either of these two factors be less essential to a singer than to an instrumentalist?

Of late it has been tacitly a.s.sumed, if not boldly claimed, that sentiment, pa.s.sion, temperament, atoned for--even if they did not entirely replace--voice and lack of skill in the artist. But what const.i.tutes an artist? Art has been defined by an English lexicographer as "Doing something, the power for which is acquired by experience, study or observation;" and an artist, as "One skilled in the practice of any art." The French writer d'Alembert says, "_L'art s'acquiert par l'etude et l'exercice_" (Art is acquired by study and practice). If these definitions of art be accepted, its external expression or manifestation is essential through some vehicle or medium, otherwise there is neither art nor artist. Concepts or ideals have their genesis in mind, but were they to remain there, the poet, painter, sculptor or musician (composer or interpreter) would have no right to the t.i.tle of artist, because his concepts remained in thought-form only, and unexpressed. Therefore, as a composer can be accepted as artist only when he has given that to the world which ent.i.tles him to the distinction, how can his so-called interpreter be considered an artist when, through insufficiency of technical ability, he is unable to present satisfactorily the author's concept? No matter in what abundant measure such a performer may possess the good qualities of earnestness, conviction and sincerity, he is not an artist. "_Poeta nascitur, non fit_," has long been accepted as a truism; and similarly, it is supposed that the artist also is born, not made. But seeing that the mechanical side of any art is learned by experience, study, or observation--still to quote the definition--without which an adequate manifestation of that art is impossible, then certainly the artist is made. He is born with certain qualities necessary for the artist, it is true; but failing his technical skill, these other gifts can never be fully utilized.

It is to be deplored that the studies of many vocal aspirants are not conducted on the same plan that is followed by those who desire to attain perfection on a musical instrument. These acquire a technique, and learn or study many works which may broaden or perfect their style, before commencing to prepare a repertoire. The opposite course is followed by many students of singing, who study roles, instead of learning first how to sing. The full meaning of the highest examples of the modern lyric drama can be made apparent only by those who have fully mastered the vocal, as well as the mimetic, side of lyric art.

Too much importance is, in my opinion, attached to the latter branch, at the cost of the former. I repeat, an opera-singer should be a singer who acts, not an actor who sings.

On the occasion of the bestowal of awards at the Paris Conservatoire in August, 1905, M. Dujardin-Beaumetz, Under-Secretary for the Fine Arts, in his address to the students made pointed allusion to the difference of results between the instrumental cla.s.ses and those for singing. Said the orator: "It is claimed that singing is in a state of decadence, and that the cause is largely due to the style of modern music. It is rather owing to the fact that this art is not studied at present with the same methodic diligence that formerly obtained. I would remind the students of singing that they gain nothing by neglecting the earlier studies, and that their professional future would be better a.s.sured if it rested on a solid basis of vocal technique. It is, therefore, in their interest that, with a view to a.s.sure this important point, certain reforms will be inst.i.tuted."[6]

[Footnote 6: One of these reforms was that the first year's study is to be devoted entirely to tone-formation; no attention being paid to the employment of the tones in melody. Nor are the professors of singing at the Conservatoire now selected--as was formerly the case--exclusively from among ex-opera-singers.]

The professors of the cla.s.ses for singing were also advised to draw more on the great cla.s.sic writers for the voice, instead of confining themselves princ.i.p.ally to the operatic repertoire.

Every art reaches its apex of perfection, and then seems to decline; it may even temporarily disappear. But, being immortal, it is never lost. It finds other modes of manifestation, and reappears in other forms. The principles on which it is founded do not change; but constantly changing conditions necessitate a new application of these principles. This necessity was acknowledged for poetry itself by Andre Chenier:

"_Sur des pensees nouveaux, faisons des vers antiques._" (Let us embody modern thoughts in cla.s.sic verse.)

Music follows the great laws of development to which all things are subject. It would be foolish, nay, impossible, to try to resuscitate an old form of art. Foolish, because the art itself would have lost all except its archaic charm or interest; impossible, because conditions have so completely changed that the attempt would be merely the galvanizing of a corpse, not its reanimation.

Similarly, the art of singing can be successful only in proportion as it recognizes the existence of other conditions. These it meets by observing the old principles, but changing their mode of application.

The education of the singer of to-day requires to be conducted on broader and more comprehensive lines than in the past, on account of the different conditions which have presented themselves.

Singing--that is, the alliance and utterance of Music and Poetry--is one of the highest manifestations of the Beautiful, and is man's supreme and greatest creation. Therefore, singing will not seek in future to rival a mechanical instrument. It will, it is evident, give to the poetic idea a prominent, though not a predominant, place. But this poetic idea can be revealed to the listener only by a singer who is master of all the technical phases of his art. These component parts of his vocal education must of necessity comprise--as was laid down in the opening chapter of this work--Pose of Voice, Technique, Style, and Repertoire.