The study of language, articulation, and deportment, the gradual formation and building-up of the singing voice, and the incessant practice of scales and exercises, are in reality only the necessary preliminaries to singing itself. Singing, or the proper use of the voice combined with the due enunciation and expression of the words, is nothing unless due attention be also paid to style, to the fit and effective execution of the music selected, due regard being paid both to taste and tradition.

Traditional Styles.—Although the groundwork of all good singing is the same, the music to be sung varies greatly in style. There is church music, oratorio music, and opera music, as well as ballad music; and a certain nondescript—half recitative, half declamation—which is of modern growth, gives pleasure to many people (both performers and audience), and comprises the greater number of modern German "songs."

Modern German Lieder.—This latest development of vocal performances, of which I desire to speak with all due respect, has no traditions whatever, but it has a style, decided, though (in my opinion) bad. It has, however, one merit: it imperatively demands that the singer should understand the meaning both of words and music, for the whole thing depends on expression and modulation. The composers of these works generally do their part fully in the way of modulations and accompaniment; but as they frequently forget to supply anything in the shape of a melody, the singer must do his best to touch or move his audience by his expressive delivery of the words in the musical inflections which (with this class of composers) occupy the place of a "tune." However, if you admire this kind of music, and have been properly taught to sing before you attempt to execute it, I have not a word to say against it: so long as you use your voice legitimately, this style of music can do you no harm, and if you study dramatic expression and elocution properly, you may doubtless produce an effect very pleasing to others who admire it. But the danger of such music to the untrained voice and untaught singer is very great indeed; and I do not hesitate to say that the frequent performance of it by such an one must result in the ruin both of voice and style.

The Cathedral School.—The one point in music wherein England has just reason to boast of her past, is the existence of a distinct class of music composed for her church service, and that music of a high order of merit. Distinctive in character, this church music—"services" and "anthems"—has created for itself a distinct school of singers, and, by tradition, demands a distinct style of performance. I have elsewhere stated that the "Cathedral School" of singing is "detestable for solo work," and so it is for any solo work except cathedral solo work, where the operatic or oratorio style of singing would seem to us, who have always been familiar with the traditional and one accepted style, out of place, and irreverently suggestive of the concert-room. It is difficult to describe upon paper the peculiarity of this style of singing, and it could only be learnt by imitation in its own home, the cathedral. Its chief characteristics are a sort of passionless "statuesqueness," a steadiness of tone akin to the notes of the organ, which is its only fit accompaniment, an absence of all attempt at personal display on the part of the singer. Its faulty tendencies are towards deficiency of expression and slowness of "attack;" these are apparent, generally, when a "cathedral" singer appears in the concert-room; but in church, the pervadingly reverent character of the performance takes off the impression of coldness and tameness in the individual singer, while the ear, accustomed to the slight difference in time with which the various organ-stops "answer," does not notice in the singer that want of "crispness" in the time which the accompaniment of an orchestra reveals at once.

Unless you are really intending to sing professionally in a church or cathedral choir, the study of this style will not be of much use to you; you will find its good points equally insisted on in the oratorio school of singing, while its defects should be avoided in any. For English part-singing there is, however, no training so good, its traditions being exactly those of the finest old English secular part-music—the madrigals of Wilbye, Weekes, and Purcell, &c.

Oratorio.—By oratorio singing—speaking of it as a distinct style—I may say at once that I mean the school of Handelian singing, of which the traditions are distinct, and which has only been slightly modified to suit the more modern oratorios of other composers. Of course, Mendelssohn cannot be sung exactly like Handel or Bach, but the general style of delivery should be the same, and till you can sing Handel, you cannot hope to be able to sing Mendelssohn. The ability to sing Handel, Bach, and GlÜck, I believe to be the sole foundation for a pure style of singing either in opera or ballad music: the music is such that it cannot be trifled with—the difficulties cannot be evaded, but must be mastered—while the exquisitely smooth and vocal character of these great masters' music trains the singer to an evenness and solidity of style which is most valuable in any music that may be afterwards attempted. Moreover, the songs of Handel form an admirable school for the training of individual taste and judgment in the introduction of ornaments, the variety of phrasing, and other minute details of finish. Not that you may exercise your individual taste in introducing ornaments into Handel or Bach—far from it; but the songs are written with the express intention that certain ornaments should be introduced in particular places, and the style (and in many cases the notes) of these ornaments has been accurately handed down to us; therefore, in learning this traditional manner of singing such music, the student is trained to a knowledge of the appropriate place for the introduction of ornamentation and "grace"—the appropriate character of such embellishments, and the appropriate opportunities for introducing them. For instance, most of Handel's songs commence with a movement which is intended to be repeated at the close of the song, the middle part being generally a movement in some relative key, which is not repeated. The traditional style of giving such songs is to reserve ornamentation for this repeated first part, and thus to avoid the effect of sameness which would result from adhering in the "repeat" to exactly the same rendering of the music with which the singer gave it at first. Such ornamentations were taken for granted by the composer, and it was only because of a tasteless abuse of this privilege of adornment on the part of foolish singers, an abuse which became an unbearable nuisance, that in after years Rossini adopted the plan of writing into his music florid passages which should supply the singer with ornaments which were good of their kind and which were put in in appropriate places, rather then trust his airs to the mercy of inartistic "decorators." Handel, and the composers of earlier times than Rossini, omitted the ornamentation, so as not to hamper the singer, for, as has been well said by an old writer on the subject: "The same execution that would from one singer afford pleasure, might from another excite disgust: the compositions of old masters have no written cadences to a repeated passage, for this very reason, no doubt. But it is understood, and indeed expected, that the singer of talent should display his own taste by the introduction of such fanciful and graceful ornaments as may be best calculated to exhibit his voice to advantage, and thereby heighten, instead of lessen, the effect of the composition."

The same writer, in explaining the reason for the introduction of such ornaments and changes, goes on to remark: "In conversation, though we frequently repeat words and even sentences, in expressing any particular subject, yet we might as naturally expect to see a person laugh without a smile, as give such repetitions without some variation in voice and manner.

"The first part of an air is often written to be repeated. In justice to the author, when that is the case, simplicity of style should be inviolably preserved; but, on repeating the strain, free scope may be given to the imagination, taking it for granted that no person would be vain enough to attempt the introduction of his own fanciful graces, unless sufficiently master of the science to feel the propriety of going so far and no farther."

Perhaps I may make the meaning of all this clearer by giving a few specimens of these traditionally accepted adornments in repeated passages.

ri - mem - - bran - za, Puoi di nuo-vo, &c.

ri - mem - bran - za, Puoi di - nuo-vo, &c.

dol - ce ri - mem - bran - za, &c.

dol - ce ri - mem - - bran - za, &c.

Puoi di nuo - vo, di nuo - vo av - ve-len
ar ................... mi.

Puoi - di nuo - vo di nuo - vo av-ve-len
ar ................... mi.

The above are taken from a fine song by Cesti (1660), "Tu mancavi a tormentarmi."

The following are the adornments taught in the Paris Conservatoire, as traditionally correct in the famous old song by Lotti, "Pur dicesti," where, it will be observed, one simple phrase, which occurs so frequently that it would be monotonous if unadorned, is made to yield a charming variety to the song by some elegant change at each recurrence.

quel so - a - ve ... car - o ...... si

quel ... so - a - ve car ... o - si

quel ... so - a - ve car - o - si

quel.... so - a - - ve car - - o si

pia - cer .....................
............ il mio pia - cer

pia - cer .....................
............ il mio pia - cer

The following are from Handel:

While re - sign'd to Heav'n... a - bove

While re - sign'd to.... Heav'n........... a - bove

(Guardian Angels.)

Trees where you sit, &c.

Trees where you sit, &c.

(Where'er you walk.)

And of course the list might be almost indefinitely prolonged. Certain of these ornaments, once highly popular, have wisely been allowed to drop, and that is why I lay stress upon the importance of accepted traditions. You may get hold of copies of many songs of this kind which have the names of great singers attached to them, and yet give variations of the text which have never been accepted or generally approved. The great Braham himself was a terrible offender sometimes in this respect. For instance, in singing "Comfort ye," instead of the passage

that her in - i - qui - ty is par - don - ed

he would sing thus:

that her in - i - qui - ty is par - don - ed.

And I have seen an old copy of "Holy, holy," in which the melody is so overlaid with little black notes, semi-quavers, demi-semi-quavers, and semi-demi-semi-quavers, that it is difficult to distinguish the notes of Handel's music at all! The admissible changes are all very slight, and any elaborate cadenza, or considerable addition, is pretty sure to be wrong. Final high notes are a frequent snare to aspiring singers; the traditions of the old school of oratorio singing are not in favour of them, and they generally vulgarize a song if introduced where the composer has not clearly opened a way for them. I have heard a tenor singer conclude the famous "Thou shalt break them," thus:

pot - - - - - - - - - - - ter's ves - sel

and a soprano finish off "He shall feed His flock," thus:

ye shall find rest ............... un - to your souls.

—both of them pieces of vulgar display, bringing the personality of the singer before the audience instead of the beauty of the music, the sense of the words, or the merit of the composer. No such abominations are permissible in good oratorio singing, the rule of which is utter submission to the composer's intentions, and a conscientious endeavour to interpret his mind clearly to the audience; a pure and chaste delivery of words and music alike; a sustained excellence throughout, avoiding an attempt to astonish by bursts of power or brilliancy; and an entire absence of all claptrap or vulgarities to please "the gallery."

Opera.—A great deal of what has been said about oratorio singing applies also to operatic singing. But I strongly advise you against attempting opera music until you have studied the more severe and solid style of the oratorio. The declamatory passages in opera are doubtless more brilliantly impassioned, just as the florid airs are more startlingly elaborate, than in oratorio, and the recitatives less stately and sustained; but the style of good opera singing is only to be founded upon good oratorio study (or its equivalent), inasmuch as it was out of the oratorio that the opera grew. Operatic singing allows more license to the singer than does oratorio; but the singer should have been taught first by the severer style not to misuse that license. At the same time when (as is not infrequent in operas of a certain kind) the composer has introduced airs for the express purpose of showing off a singer's voice, a well-trained singer may be accepted as interpreting the composer's intention rightly, when he or she elaborates fioriture far beyond the limits of which any hint appears in the score.

Even here, however, traditional usage must have its weight: cadenzas must be strictly in character, and only introduced in songs to which such passages are appropriate. I once heard a florid cadenza interpolated at the close of "Spirto Gentil," by an aspiring young tenor, too full of conceit and "modern" ideas to take a hint from Mario's marvellous rendering of that song.

And it must be borne in mind that it is only in operas of the Bellini, Donizetti, and early Rossini and Verdi school that such extreme license is granted. No such tricks can be played with the operas of Mozart, GlÜck, Weber, or Meyerbeer, or with the later works of Rossini and Verdi, while the notion of altering a note, or omitting even a demi-semi-quaver rest, in those of Wagner, would be, to his admirers, flat heresy. In reality, the style of singing opera music is easily acquired by any one who is sufficiently advanced to be fit to attempt opera music at all. There are certain niceties to be acquired, and endless beauties of variety in the rendering of even small passages; but these things cannot be taught on paper.

Ballads.—There is no greater mistake than to suppose that "any one can sing a simple ballad." Good ballad singing is one of the rarest accomplishments, and demands qualities in the singer which may be wanting even in a person who can sing well both in opera and oratorio. To suppose that an untaught singer can do justice to any ballad that is worth the trouble of singing at all, is simply a mark of ignorance on the whole subject of singing.

Ballads do not always require power or compass of voice, it is true, nor do they tax the singer on the score of flexibility or physical strength; but they are the severest test of enunciation, mezzo-voce singing, neatness and readiness in producing tones of any gradation, and perfect control over the voice.

To sing a ballad well demands a really cultivated taste, a certain dramatic power, suppressed it is true, but influencing the whole delivery; a sympathetic voice, and a manner which will enlist the interest and sympathy of the audience. Ballad singing is neither declamation nor recitative: there is no chance of surprising or astonishing your audience; but you must contrive to please them, you must touch them somehow; and, for an ordinary person in the costume of the nineteenth century, to "touch" others of the same species is not easy. Sometimes, no doubt, the words of a good song are in themselves so touching and charming that, so long as the music be not positively hideous or destructive of the sense of the words, the singer has only to let them be clearly heard, and the battle is won; but more frequently he has to trick his audience into interest in a song where the words in themselves are either hopelessly silly, or too obscure in sense for their full meaning to appear at a first hearing or reading. All that he can then do is to deliver it in such a way that they shall feel that there is a meaning to it all, though they have not fully caught it yet, and so they may wish to hear it again. I do not, of course, mean any allusion to the ridiculous fashion of encores, but simply that the feeling at the end of such a song should be one of liking it sufficiently to wish to understand it entirely.

Many songs would tell their own tale and produce their own effect well enough, if the singer would let them, and therefore the ballad singer must only be sufficiently self-conscious to keep himself out of the way. However good his singing, however original his reading of the song, while he is singing it should all go to the credit of the song, and the hearers be charmed into forgetting him till he is silent.

Recitative.—Good recitative singing is of great importance, and requires careful attention and study. Recitative is midway between speaking and singing; it is a sort of modulated intoning, that is, that in delivering it the note and the word that belongs to it should be given with equal intention, and appear to belong to each other so completely that the musical sound should seem to be the natural intonation which the reciter would give to the word. Recitative is (or was) practically an attempt to express, in musical notation, the inflexions of the human voice in speaking; and how accurately, in some cases, musical notation can do this, will be seen at a glance by the following illustration:

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you?

—where the question is asked in the same words, but the musical notes express clearly three different sentiments, or degrees of sentiment. This should be taken into consideration by the student; and he should strive to give his recitative with as natural a delivery as he can, placing himself mentally in the position of a dramatic reciter.

Steadiness of tone, clearness of enunciating consonants, and full round delivery of vowel-sounds are indispensable to good recitative singing. Every note must be distinct, and not the faintest suspicion of a "slur" or portamento can be allowed.

Recitative singing is not a thing which a student should try to teach himself, as he may not only waste his time, but gain notions which are erroneous and difficult to cure. For instance, take the recitatives in "The Messiah," as these are printed for the British public. Nothing could be more ludicrous than for a singer to appear in public and sing the recitatives faithfully as printed in the editions of this oratorio which are continually being disseminated throughout the land. Handel, let it be borne in mind, was not well acquainted with the English language; and though he may have written good music, he was often very far from reaching good literary sense. Thus, as regards this latter, this specimen passage occurs in Handel's "Acis and Galatea,"

Where shall I seek the charm-ing fair?

Yet no one in his senses would think of rendering it other than

Where shall I seek the charm-ing fair?

inasmuch as there is some doubt of the chord 6/4 which forms the grace note being Handel's music, and because the sense of the words demands that no break shall be made between the words seek and the. As Handel failed in his English, it is surely allowable to make good his deficiencies in this respect.

The following paragraphs relate to certain minor details of style in singing, and apply to singing of every kind. They must be taken in conjunction with much that has already been said under the head of "Practice."

Slurring.—Slurring up to a note is a very disagreeable and common evil to be guarded against. It matters not how far distant the note to be sung may be from the preceding tone; it should be attacked fearlessly and cheerfully, but with an open throat. The note to be attacked must not be prepared in the throat. The course should be this. The tone of the preceding note must not be moved, but the one required—say a very high one—must be obtained by the joint process of lowering the larynx, of sounding the note from exactly the same spot as the lower note, in a soft but fine tone, and thirdly, by getting such a ring in the note as it can only have in conjunction with the feeling that while the root or foundation of the note is in the chest, yet it owes much of its penetrating character and power to a sort of reflecting power which is given it from the extreme end of the spine bone, where it joins the head. Certainly no high note is properly produced, nor to be relied upon for a crescendo, unless the student has this feeling that it springs from the back of the neck; and, in rising to an upper note, the aim should be not at length to approach the upper note from beneath, as it were, but to "come down" upon it—to strike it from above instead of from below.

Sentiment.—Always try to convey the sentiment of what you may be singing through the tone of the voice. Love and anger cannot both be expressed with the same quality of voice. For the former, a delicate light tone well on the lips is desirable, while for the latter the voice should be produced lower in the stomach; yet the tone should still be kept on the lips; its character should be "darker," more round, and sonorous. "'Tis this that racks my brain"" such words as these should never be sung in the same character of voice as "Waft her, angels, to the skies." It is good practice to take any piece and sing the melody on an open vowel throughout, with the object of showing the meaning of the song without the aid of words. Then, when this can be done, the words may be employed, and the result will be doubly happy.

Decision.—Indecision is a very serious fault in singing. Do well and thoroughly whatever you decide upon attempting. If you have a staccato passage to sing, render it firmly in that style; if you have one that is legato, take care that this character is strongly seen from your rendering. When you "slur," make it strong enough to be felt. If you bend as it were from one note to another, let your intention to do so be clearly apparent. Let a forte passage be loud, and let a piano one be really soft. Any half measures in singing are fatal. Precision and certainty are qualities which the student must always aim at attaining. Without them, singing becomes tame and unattractive, not to say tiresome.

Imitation.—Imitation, which in many other arts becomes plagiary, in singing is most desirable; for singing, more than any other art, rests on tradition; there is even very little doubt that the peculiar charm and quality of a true tenor voice (for instance) is more due to imitation in a singer than to nature; that is to say, that it is the result of a transmitted culture—such imitation being the only means in which singers can reap the harvest of the experience of the great singers now to be heard no more, who have left their imitators to pass on to others what they themselves obtained by imitating and improving on their predecessors. Therefore do not be afraid of being set down as a mere copyist, if you study and attempt to imitate the style of the best living singers. You will always have enough of your own merit or defect to distinguish your performance, if you are really a conscientious student, and you may learn a great deal by listening to the best public singers which can be taught you in no other way. Watch their stage deportment; their treatment of the weaker parts of their voices; their method of breathing; their manner towards the public;—in fact, every point which occurs to you,—and make some use of what you see and hear in your own studies.

Public Singing.—If you have to sing in public, remember always to take a rapid but searching glance round your stage. This is a great point gained. As you step on to "the boards," notice (unobserved) the dimensions of the stage (if it happens to be new to you). Note the height of its ceiling, its surroundings, its draperies, its distance from your farthest auditor; then take up your position accordingly—bearing in mind that all your tone is wanted by your listeners, which requirement can never be met unless you yourself take the precaution to prevent the sound being held or carried back by the stage decorations. In a concert salon or theatre, then, do not forget to get well to the front of the platform. At the same time you must not be too close upon your stall occupants, or you may give them the very undesirable impression that at any moment you may fall over.

"Holding" an Audience.—The singer should carefully watch an audience so as to gauge its attention and sympathies. If it seems impatient, restless, and indifferent, the singer may be quite sure that he or she is exciting no interest. The best course then for one to do is to immediately change the style, alter the tone, give forth his or her best energies, and use every effort to become ingratiated into the good favour of the listeners. If such effects as these fail constantly in their turn, then the aspirant for vocal fame should give up, and devote both time and attention to further study, or to some other means of a livelihood; for a future great singer will not be failing constantly, and to be only a second-rate singer while there are so many is a thing not to be devoutly desired.

Mistakes in Public.—If you make a mistake in singing, do not add to the mischief by allowing it to alarm or disconcert you. Proceed onward as if nothing had happened. You may be quite sure that each one of your audience will not have detected the slip, for they cannot all be critics. But bear in mind that such confidence as your adviser here suggests is not to be too often called into requisition. No great artist will ever make a serious mistake in public. How much more careful then should the young student be!

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