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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:
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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: