Frank E. Miller

A RATIONAL VOCAL METHOD

Song, so far as voice-production is concerned, is the result of physiological action, and as voice-production is the basis of all song, it follows that a singing method, to be correct, must be based on the correct physiological use of the vocal organs. The physiology of voice-production lies, therefore, at the very foundation of artistic singing.

The proper physiological basis for a singing method having been laid, something else, something highly important, remains to be superimposed. Voice is physical. But everything that colors voice, charging it with emotion, giving it its peculiar quality and making it different from other voices, is largely, although not wholly, the result of a psychical control—a control not exercised mysteriously from without, like Svengali's over Trilby, but by the singer himself from within. Every singer is his own mesmerist, or he has mistaken his vocation. For while voice is a physical manifestation, its "atmosphere," its emotional thrill and charm, is a psychical one—the result of the individual's thought and feeling, acting unconsciously or, better still, subconsciously, on that physical thing, the voice.

Between the two, however, between mind and body, there lies, like a borderland of fancy, yet most real, the nervous system, crossed and recrossed by the most delicate, the most sensitive filaments ever spun, filaments that touch, caress, or permeate each and every muscle concerned in voice-production, calling them into play with the rapidity of mental telegraphy. Over this network of nerves the mind, or—if you prefer to call it so—the artistic sense, sends its messages, and it is the nerves and muscles working in harmony that results in a correct production of the voice. So important, indeed, is the coÖperation of the nervous system, that it is a question whether the whole psychology of song may not be referred to it—whether the degree of emotional thrill, in different voices, may not be the result of greater or less sensitiveness in the nervous system of different singers. This might explain why some very beautiful voices lack emotional quality. In such singers the physical action of the vocal organs and of all the resonance cavities of the head may be perfect, but the nerves are not sufficiently sensitive to the emotion which the song is intended to express, and so fail to carry it to the voice.

Immense progress has been made in anatomical research, and in no other branch more than in the study of the throat and of the larynx, which is the voice-box of the human body. There also has been a great advance in the study of metaphysics. It would seem high time, therefore, that both the results of modern anatomical study and the deductions of advanced psychological research, should be recognized in the use of that subtle and beautiful thing, the human voice, which in its ultimate quality is a combination of physiological and psychological phenomena—the physical, voice-producing organs acting within and for themselves, but also being acted upon by a series of suggestive impulses from the mind and soul, countless in number and variety. Indeed, one might say that while in singing the vocal organs are the first essential, they must, in order to achieve their full effect, be in tune with the infinite. Artistic singing involves complete physiological control of the voice-producing function, combined with complete command of the metaphysical resources of art. Thus only can voice be produced with that apparent spontaneity which we call artistic, and at the same time be charged with the emotional quality which gives it individual significance.

These two factors of voice-production, the physical and the psychical, should be recognized both by the teacher and by the student in striving to develop the voice, and by the physician who seeks to restore an impaired voice to its pristine quality. The substitution by teachers of various methods, originated by themselves, for the natural physiological method to which the vocal organs become self-adjusted and for the correct processes of auto-suggestion originating within the well-taught singer himself, is the cause of most ruined voices. The physician who realizes this will, in treating an impaired voice, know how to maintain the proper balance between the two factors—between medicine and surgery on the one hand and considerations of temperament and mentality on the other.

There have been written books on voice-method of which "be natural" is the slogan; books on the physiology of voice-production, in which, as far as the singer is concerned, too much importance is attached to the results of laryngoscopic examination; and books on the psychology of voice-production in which the other factors are wholly neglected. None of these three varieties of book, however, covers the ground, but each only a part of it. The three—nature, physiology and psychology—must be combined in any book that professes to offer a synthetic method of voice-production.

It is possible that knowledge of the structure of the vocal organs is of more importance to the physician and to the teacher than to the singer himself, and that too constant thought of them might distract the latter's attention from the product to the machine, from the quality of voice to be produced to the vocal apparatus producing it. Nevertheless, some knowledge of the organs which he brings into play in singing cannot fail to be helpful to the vocalist himself, and surely their importance to the teacher of singing and to the physician who has an impaired voice to restore cannot be overestimated. Correct teaching, in fact, directs the mind to the end, and by taking into account the physical parts concerned in singing, imparts to them the habit of unconsciously obeying natural laws. Singing may not be a question of how a distorted throat looks in an oblique mirror, yet the knowledge that, because a note is faultily produced, the throat must be distorted, and how, will be of great service to the teacher who wishes to correct the fault, and indispensable to the physician who wishes to eradicate the results of a bad method. The very first principle of a vocal method should be, to establish so correct a use of the vocal organs that nature in this respect becomes second nature. For correct action of the voice-organs can develop into a habit so perfectly acquired that the singer acts upon it automatically; and the most disastrous result of poor teaching is that a bad habit also becomes second nature and is almost impossible to eradicate.

There seems to be no question but that the old Italian masters of singing, whether knowingly or unknowingly, taught according to correct physiological principles, and that, because of a neglect of these principles since then, while there has been a general advance in everything else, the art of voice-production actually has retrograded. For not only did the old Italian masters understand the voice in its physical aspects; they also insisted, because they understood it so well, on a course of voice-training which lasted long enough to give the pupil complete ease and entire control of technic. The story of the famous master, Porpora, and his equally famous pupil, Caffarelli, is worth recalling. On a single sheet of music paper Porpora wrote all the feats of which the voice is capable, and from that one sheet Caffarelli studied with him five, some say six years. Then the great master dismissed him with these words: "Go, my son, I have nothing more to teach you; you are the greatest singer in Italy and in the world." In our own hurried days the teacher is only too apt, after a few months, or even after only a few weeks, to say: "Go, my dear. You know enough. You are pretty to look at, and you'll make a hit!" For, curiously enough, while the student of the pianoforte or the violin still will devote years to acquiring perfection upon it, a person who thinks himself gifted with a voice expects to become a singer with a year or two of instruction, possibly even after studying only a few months. Yet the apparatus concerned in voice-production is a most delicate one, and, being easily ruined when incorrectly used, haste in learning how to use it not only is absurd but criminal—voice-murder, in fact.

It has been said that one error of the old Italian method was that it concerned itself only with beautiful tone-production, whereas real singing is the vitalization of words by emotion. But the vitalization of words by emotion may well follow upon beautiful tone-production and, though in the case of the old Italians this undoubtedly was aided by the smoothly flowing quality of the Italian language, a singer, properly taught, should be able to sing beautifully in any tongue.

Besides haste, one great danger to-day to the art of singing, and especially to the art of beautiful tone-production, which lies at the root of all beautiful singing, is the modern worship of individualism, of the ability of a person simply to do things differently from some one else, instead of more artistically, so that we are beginning to attach more importance to whims and personality than to observance of the canons of true art. It is only when the individual has supreme intelligence, that any such disregard of what constitutes true art should be tolerated. Henry Irving, for example, was extraordinarily effective in certain rÔles, while in others his acting was atrocious. But even in these latter there was intellect behind what he did, and the spectator became so interested in observing his manner of striving for an effect, that he forgave him for falling short of what he strove for. But this is a very exceptional and a very dangerous kind of precedent. Art ever is more honored in the observance than in the breach. Yet its breach often is honored by modern audiences, and especially operatic audiences, because they tend to rate temperament too high and art too low, and to tolerate singers whose voice-production is atrocious, simply because their temperament or personality interests them. Take a case in point: The Croatian prima donna, Milka Ternina, whose art ranges from Tosca to Isolde, sings (in "Tosca") the invocation to the Virgin which precedes the killing of Scarpia, with a wealth of voice combined with a power of dramatic expression that simply is overwhelming; and she acts the scene of the killing with sufficient realism to raise her entire performance to the highest level of vocal dramatic art. An Italian prima donna who has been heard in the same rÔle at the same opera house sings the invocation wretchedly, but acts the following scene, the killing of Scarpia, with startling realism. She wins applause for her performance, as much applause as the other, which shows that an operatic audience will not only tolerate, but even applaud a singer who substitutes physical attractions, temperament and a peculiar wriggle of the spinal column for beautiful voice and correct method.

We all possess voice-mechanism, and possibly there is no other physical apparatus that is misused so much. Americans misuse it even in speech; yet what a valuable possession is an agreeable and pleasant speaking-voice. This abuse of the vocal organs by the great majority of Americans makes the establishment of a correct method of voice-production in this country all the more desirable. Yet, what do we find here? Almost any charlatan can set up as a singing-teacher, and this despite the fact that the voice-mechanism is a most delicate and subtle structure, and that a slight physical disturbance or wrong use of it seriously affects the quality of the voice produced.

Had I not been a singer before I became a physician, I might not realize the part that nature, properly guided, plays in the use of the voice. Had I remained a singer and not become a physician, I might not realize how important an aid in properly guiding nature in the use of the voice is a scientific knowledge of the action of the voice-producing organs. Had I not been a singer and were not now a physician, I might not realize the influence upon the artist's physical well-being, and especially upon that delicate apparatus, the voice-mechanism, of temperament, mental condition and other purely metaphysical factors. This book, then, while it believes in consulting nature, does not believe in that "natural" method which simply tells you to stand up and sing; nor does it believe in that physiological method which instructs you to plant yourself in front of a mirror and examine your throat with a laryngoscope; nor in advising you to follow minutely the publications of the Society for Psychological Research. It believes in a synthetic coÖrdination of the three. In my practice I have become convinced that every impairment of the voice is due to outraged nature, resulting in a physiological condition of the vocal organs that should not exist, and, in turn, inducing a psychological condition, such as worry and despondency, which also should not exist. By discovering with the aid of the laryngoscope the physiological defect and removing it, body, and, with it, mind and voice are restored to their proper condition. But if the singer goes back to a teacher whose method is wrong, the same impairment, or even worse, will result.

Jean de Reszke is a perfect example of how a singer can develop his voice when he turns from a wrong method to a right one. This celebrated tenor actually thought he was a baritone, and so did his teacher. He was trained as a baritone, made his dÉbut in a baritone rÔle and sang as a baritone for several years. But he experienced great fatigue in singing, much greater fatigue than seemed proper or necessary. This led him eventually to have his voice tested by another teacher, who discovered that he was a tenor. Singing with the wrong voice, which also means with a wrong method, had exhausted him. As a tenor his beautiful voice-production, based on a correct physiological method, made him equally at home and equally at ease in rÔles making the most opposite demands upon his powers. He sang equally well in Gounod and Wagner; and in Wagner, whether he was singing the young Siegfried, Siegfried of "GÖtterdÄmmerung," or Tristan.

The proper coÖrdination of all the parts of the physical vocal apparatus with the powers of mind and emotion, is what in the end constitutes the perfect singer, and that proper coÖrdination has, as its first basis, a due regard for the physiology of voice-production as well, of course, as for the general rules of health. In Gilbert and Sullivan's "Mikado," Nanki Poo, hearing a tomtit by the river reiterating a colorless "tit willow," asks the bird if its foolish song is due to a feeble mind or a careless diet.

Colloquially expressed, what Mr. Nanki Poo asked the bird was as follows: "Being gifted by nature with a perfect larynx, which should enable you to sing beautifully, do you confine yourself to singing a colorless 'Tit Willow' because you don't know any better, or because you are attempting to sing on top of an improperly selected meal?" In other words, he put violation of the laws of hygiene by a singer on a par with idiocy. Thus, even from comic opera, in the performance of which most of the rules of vocal art are violated, one yet may gather certain truths—by listening to the words—provided the singers know enough to enunciate them distinctly.

The physiology of voice-production not only offers a rational method, it also enables the student to guide his own development, to advance his physical welfare, and, because he knows the why and wherefore of things vocal, to perceive what is best in the performance of others and to profit by it. Moreover, correct method of voice-production is in itself a health developer, and a singer who is taught by it often is able to overcome the disadvantages of a poor physique; while a singer, originally of strong physique, may find himself physically weakened by the use of a faulty method.

As between a person who employs a beautiful voice artistically and a person who sings less beautifully, relying chiefly on interesting personality and temperament, instead of on correct method, the former singer usually long outlasts the latter. In other words, genuine vocal art is the crowning glory of a naturally beautiful voice.