The Voice in Singing

by Emma Seiler

COMPOSITION

Classic art sought as the only aim in its works to represent pure beauty. In the compositions of the old masters regard was had only to the sweetness of melody, and everything was excluded from them that did not fall agreeably upon the ear. But in modern music what is even unfavorable to sensuous pleasure is accepted, and we have accustomed ourselves to a more vigorous and powerful mode of representation, the aim being to excite by sudden contrasts.

In so far as music is to represent the most secret life of the soul, and as in art everything natural, so far as it admits of being idealized and represented, is allowable, this tendency of art in music has its justification. But here, as in everything in which the principles of beauty are concerned, the true limit must not be overstepped. The old masters composed only in consonances, and Helmholtz has shown scientifically that consonances alone have an independent right to existence. Dissonances, according to Helmholtz, are only permissible as transition points for consonants, having no right of their own to be. Down to Beethoven we find dissonances correctly employed by all the old masters. And greater and nobler effects were attained than are possible to our modern musicians with their accumulation of dissonances and sudden contrasts.

With the two composers in whom our modern classic epoch reached its zenith, begins the gradual decline of the art of singing. Mozart held it necessary to his musical education to study in Italy the vocal compositions of the old masters, and to make himself thoroughly acquainted with the qualities of the singing voice. Hence the vocal compositions of Mozart will remain beautiful and to be held up as models for all time, for they unite the sweetest and loveliest melody with an appreciation of sentiment the noblest and most ideal.

The giant genius of Beethoven, inspired and artistic, found the material developed to perfection by his predecessors, and with overpowering strength forced it to yield itself to his service. His masterworks of composition, in the grandeur of their style, excel everything that had been produced before him. But he has treated the human voice as a subordinate instrument.

Because all that Beethoven produced was grand and beautiful, he has been blindly imitated, and it has been wholly forgotten that music has in all times drawn its best nourishment from song, and only by means of song has it risen to its high estate, and that instruments can never reach what is possible to a thoroughly educated human voice.

A musician, exclusively devoted to the piano, never dreams of writing a concert piece for the violin, because he knows that he is not sufficiently acquainted with the peculiarities of that instrument; but every musician imagines himself able to compose for the human voice, although its peculiar qualities are far more numerous and far more difficult to be rightly dealt with.

The strictly classical musicians of the present reject all Italian music as bad. The objection made to it is, that the music is never adapted to the words, but often expresses something wholly different and sometimes directly opposite to their meaning, and that it never gives back to us any high, poetic sentiment, but aims to bribe us with ornaments only, and accidents. In regard to modern Italian music this judgment may be just. These superficial compositions are a product of Italian music in its decline, and can force for themselves a certain popularity only by their pleasant and easy melodies. Even the old Italian music seems at first sight to pay little or no regard to the sense of the words, especially when the time, according to the classic German method, is set too quick. Upon closer study, however, we soon perceive that, although the music is treated as the chief thing, the meaning of the words is certainly given when the music is rightly performed. Were it not so, our music would hardly ever have been able to form and develop itself upon and through these old vocal compositions.

As the pictures of Titian, Rubens, and other great painters of that time, who were masters of form as well as of color, will always be considered as works of art and models, so the compositions of the old Italian singing masters and of those who went from their schools are to be held up as examples for vocal composition. In their works, as in all the works of art of that time, form takes precedence of the spirit, that is, the words and their poetic significance are treated as secondary matters. But all the peculiar properties of the human voice find therein due consideration; everything at variance with them is avoided, and every interval, every vowel, is so introduced that the voice can flow out with the greatest perfection. These ornamented compositions can be sung more easily and with less effort than a simple aria of a modern composer.

The fine tact and the correct feeling with which in those old vocal compositions what nature directs was observed, show that they are the works of singers of the golden age of the art of singing, of artists who with an exact knowledge of the beauties and capabilities of the voice possessed, and in those days were compelled to possess, the most thorough culture in the theory of music.

In opposition to this old, classic Italian style of composing song, which considered and treated music for its own sake alone, and regarded the words only in so far as they aided the voice and the expression of the music, stands the classic style of Germany. In this latter the first attention is paid to the poetic meaning and expression of the text. Rightly to apprehend the sense of the words and to give it, by means of the music, a deeper, nobler expression—to transfigure it, as it were—is, according to this style, the purpose of the composer, who commonly has only the slightest reference to the peculiar qualities of the voice and the fitness of the composition to be sung. In the classic Italian style the form predominates—in the German, the inspiration or soul of the composition. In the Italian the music and the singing capability of the composition are attended to almost exclusively. In the German, the main thing is the poetical expression of the signification of the words. When we now sing the wonderful and exquisite compositions of Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, etc., we soon feel the impossibility of giving one or another tone as beautifully as it should be given according to the quality of the voice, and as we are able to give it by itself. Or it is hard for us to strike this or that tone with perfect purity or with the requisite force, &c. These songs are not adapted to the voice as the old Italian arias were, but composed without accurate knowledge of the voice, and therefore cannot develop the voice in its highest perfection. Mendelssohn often lays the strongest expression in his soprano songs upon the f

², the transition tone from the falsetto register to the head voice. For the expression of the highest passion, which requires strength, the head voice is not adapted, at least not in its transition tone. Accordingly, it is usually sought to sound this tone with the falsetto register, to which it is not natural, and is therefore hard to be sung, and also becomes sharp and offensive in the male voice especially, where this note is formed just upon the transition from the second chest register into the falsetto. Schubert, again, in his songs commonly so places the words that the favorable vowels seldom come upon the right tones. Schumann also very often uses intervals which come upon the boundary tones of the register, and can hardly be struck with purity. Thus there are very many hindrances to a fine development of the voice, oftentimes in the most beautiful compositions of our times, hindrances, which many of our composers are more or less chargeable with putting in the way.

It is evident from what has been said that it is by no means a matter of indifference how the words of a song are translated into another language. Compositions easily sung naturally lose by translation, for it is generally left entirely to chance whether the appropriate vowels fall upon the right tones. A teacher must take great care, especially in beginning instruction, to give his pupils compositions adapted to singing. All the exercises and solfeggi should be expressly arranged for the purpose, and also so arranged that the pupil shall have steadily increasing difficulties to encounter, in order that the vocal technique may be fully illustrated. Along with these exercises and solfeggi, arias should be practised, particularly at the beginning. The older Italian compositions are the best adapted to vocal culture, because they were made with special reference to the qualities of the voice. Arias are preferable to songs, because they usually require more flexibility of voice, and therefore assist the technique. In arias the music is more prominent than in ballads, and the sentiment more marked and consequently more easily apprehended. The same words are commonly more often repeated, and must, of course, be sung differently, and thus the pupil is brought acquainted at once with the different external aids to a fine execution.

EXTERNAL AIDS TO A FINE EXECUTION

A teacher must see to it at first with the utmost attention that all the tones according to their pitch are struck with purity, and this can be done only by his repeating them over and over again to his pupil, because, as we have already remarked, our pianos, according to the present method of tuning, are never sufficiently pure to form a singing tone. When the learner has once become familiarized to the fine sound of pure tones, he will hear and distinguish them, and learn to strike them correctly with our pianos. How important to a fine timbre of the tones the right direction of the breath is and its control, as well as the best mode of securing these points, we have already described at some length. The old Italian masters had established distinct rules by which the breath was to be renewed.

These were:

1. Before the beginning of a phrase.

2. Before trills and passages (fiorituri).

3. After tied notes:

.

4. Before syncopes, and especially accented notes:

.

5. Between two notes of the same pitch and the same value:

, in slow phrases.

6. After a short (staccato) note:

.

7. At all pauses and resting-points.

8. Before a note, which, by being accented, was to be especially distinguished in the middle of musical passages, usually before the highest note of a musical phrase, in order to give the music a light, graceful character:

.

In light, airy pieces of music, this last mode of taking breath had a charming effect, but was mostly left to the taste of the singer. The earlier singers, moreover, were very skilful in finding those places where, according to the character of the composition, an unusual taking of breath was of special effect. On the other hand, it was considered an advantage in a singer to take breath as rarely as possible, and, as we have intimated in the introduction of this book, it was esteemed a great accomplishment to sing long with one inhalation.

In the old Italian music, by which the vocal technique is best illustrated, these rules must be observed. In German music the breathing is governed by æsthetic principles, and is regulated by the words of the song. Accordingly, breath can be taken only at the beginning or end of a sentence, conformably to the punctuation. But if the sentences are too long, then the breath is to be taken at some fitting place in the middle of the sentence, so that a word must not be broken by the breath, nor the article or adjective separated from the subject.

An Italian aria, in which the attention is given chiefly to the music and its externals, is executed far more easily and beautifully than a German aria or a German song. Our German ballads, full of deep sentiment and in which the music should give a higher and richer expression to the poetic significance of the words, require in their execution such sterling spiritual culture as only the most extraordinary talent can supply the place of. In the execution of these songs it is, above all things, necessary that the words should be distinctly heard. It easily happens in singing that the noise (Geräusch) of the consonants partly from the stronger sound of the tones is entirely covered, and so words are indistinctly heard. The sound of the consonants must, therefore, be given more prominently in singing than in common speech, so that they may be heard along with the tones. It is a good practice to repeat the words, exaggerating the articulation. Thus, by persevering attention, a distinct articulation in singing may be attained without difficulty. Recitative offers an excellent practice for this purpose, the music here being subordinate to the words, according to the intervals of which the composition is for the most part constructed. Although our recitative is formed after the declamation of the Greeks, yet it is not to be sung like this, with pathos, but according to our modern taste, as naturally as possible, just as in a like situation the words would be spoken.[ 19 ]

To the external aids to expression belongs the swelling of the tones, one of the easiest, most natural, and most graceful of all our helps. It consists in giving a tone, whose time permits it, different degrees of strength. In a contrary way much time is usually spent in singing the scales, beginning piano and increasing in strength to the greatest possible forte, and then letting the voice grow weaker and weaker. Instead of these exercises, which require exertion, the same thing can be attained far more easily by swelling the tones where it is required in the composition. In melancholy or mournful compositions, swelling upon those tones which the rhythm requires to be accented is very beautiful. But when exaggerated, or where a fresh, cheerful character is to be preserved in the composition, this aid to expression easily renders the effect sentimental. Unhappily, our whole music is vitiated by this sickly sentimentalism, the perfect horror of every person of cultivated taste. In these later years the powerful reaction of German æsthetics has had favorable results in regard to instrumental music, but in the execution of vocal music this unhealthy fashion of singing still always commands great applause. This sickly sentimental style has also naturalized in singing a gross trick unfortunately very prevalent, the tremolo of the notes. When, in rare cases, the greatest passion is to be expressed, to endeavor to deepen the expression by a trembling of the notes is all very well and fully to be justified, but in songs and arias, in which quiet and elevated sentiments are to be expressed, to tremble as if the whole soul were in an uproar, and not at all in a condition for quiet singing, is unnatural and offensive.

A very beautiful aid to expression, but now only seldom heard, is the transition from one register to another on the same note. A note begins with tolerable strength, for example, d:

, with the action belonging to it of the chest register, and while it grows weaker it passes imperceptibly into the action of the falsetto tones. Or the reverse. A note of the chest register is begun with the action of the falsetto, and becoming stronger changes into the chest register to which it naturally belongs. Correctly employed, the most delightful effects may be produced in this way, especially by a male voice.

Ornaments, such as appoggiaturas and turns, roulades, trills, &c., are to be used only with taste and care. The old Italian compositions, which were so arranged as to show the voice in its fullest brilliancy, have their ornaments commonly in such phrases as were to be first sung several times in a simpler way. In the frequent repetition of the same melody and words, those places were designated by so-called firmates, thus:

, where it was permitted to the artist to introduce embellishments according to his own taste. In German arias embellishments are allowed to be introduced according to the taste of the singer, only, however, with the greatest care; but in German ballads not at all. And yet we often hear artists, who have acquired a certain flexibility of voice, introducing their little trickeries in the most inappropriate places.

But none of these aids to expression are to be used so often as to become mere mannerisms. Only when employed in due measure can they have an æsthetically fine effect. As so much depends upon the taste of the singer, it is necessary that he should, above all things, have a thorough appreciation of the sentiment which is to find expression in the piece, and seek to make it his own, and then the ornament is to be introduced only where it accords with the sentiment, that is, where it is appropriate. The two greatest artists of the present day, Lind and Stockhausen, whose expression is perfect, take great pains to understand the composition thoroughly, and in this way to be fully imbued with the sentiment.

Without the animation of a soul, singing fails of all effect upon the hearer, and is ordinary and wearisome. But this animation must be with understanding and taste—i. e., æsthetically beautiful. For the beautiful continues beautiful and true only as long as it is in proportion and not exaggerated—only while those fine lines are not transgressed where it begins to be untrue, that is, affected and ridiculous.