It is of the highest importance to acquire a correct
method of breathing, and to acquire it so thoroughly that it becomes second nature. In the beginning it may be necessary to bear each successive step in mind and make sure that it is not omitted. But very soon artistic breathing to sustain song becomes as much a habit as is breathing to sustain life. We breathe, or we cannot live; we breathe artistically, or we cannot sing. But to breathe artistically really is no great problem. It is a simple matter, yet fraught with great and invaluable results to the singer; and it is a simple matter because it becomes so easily a matter of habit. The nerves of the breathing-muscles send and receive messages to and from the nerve-centre, but after incredibly little practice this interchange of messages over the nervous system becomes so swift that it may be said to take place by anticipation, and the person who benefits by it is unaware that it takes place at all. Correct breathing has then become a habit. This habit, this smooth working, automatic coöperation of nerves with breathing-muscles, may be thrown out of gear by something unusual, such as the excitement attending a début.
The singer faces an audience or a strange audience for the first time, and the first unfavorable and
disconcertive effect travels over the nerves to the respiratory organs. Regular breathing is at such times one of the best ways to allay the undue excitement caused by the unusual surroundings. Before beginning to sing the artist should, and on such occasions with conscious artistry, immediately reëstablish control of respiration by taking a few deep breaths. I have said before that the borderline between the physiology of voice-production and the psychology of song is a narrow one—whereof the above cure for stage-fright is but another case in point.
CHAPTER V
THE PHYSIOLOGY AND PSYCHOLOGY OF VOICE-PRODUCTION
Above this chapter I might well have placed the following lines which George Eliot wrote above Chapter XXXI. of "Middlemarch."
How will you know the pitch of that great bell, Too large for you to stir? Let but a flute Play 'neath the fine-mixed metal! Listen close Till the right note flows forth, a silvery rill: Then shall the huge bell tremble—then the mass With myriad waves concurrent shall respond In low, soft unison.