There is no form of drawing-room entertainment which, when well done, is more interesting than whistling, with pianoforte accompaniment.
Below are embodied the views and methods of Mr. Charles Capper, the famous English siffleur, regarding this unique and attractive means of entertainment.
The great part of humanity knows nothing of that ability of piping and whistling so natural and melodious in the blackbird and thrush. Most of us have at some time or other put by a little of our bread-and-butter earnings in order to take a few lessons in learning to sing or to play the pianoforte or some stringed instrument. But there are comparatively few who turn to whistling as a means of livelihood or as an accomplishment. It is fortunate that this is the case, for, unless one possesses considerable natural talent, it is mere waste of money, time, and endeavor.
Whistling cannot be hammered into being. It is only where real ability is possessed that the student may set himself to work and overcome its many difficulties, and hope to achieve his best.
Another gift equally essential is that of a good natural ear—an ear that instantly distinguishes and corrects the note which is a shade flatter or sharper than it should be.
It is a fact worthy of note that, while an unusually high roof to the mouth is a disadvantage to the singer, it is—so some medical specialists assert—a great gain to the whistler, and perhaps this is the reason why it is so rare to meet skilled exponents of the art.
However, it is common enough to hear in almost every grade of life the whistling that has never been cultivated. For example, in the early morning, a few shrill tuneless notes float up to one’s bedchamber from the area steps, as a dairyman hands in the allowance of milk; but this annoys rather than delights, although it speaks eloquently of the human soul of the whistler.
When the boy whistles, his mother knows he is well—in a good temper, and contented with the whole universe. The merchant, stepping into his office, may trill a few bars of “Tommy, make room for your uncle,” and the sound conveys volumes to the sharp-eared clerks, who foresee a day of unusual calm and peace; because a man suffering from spleen, liver, gout, or toothache never so far forgets his agony as to whistle.
Whistling invariably shows a light heart, and perhaps the reason why the birds indulge in this pastime so freely is because they know nothing of the burdens that beset mankind.