When Schröder-Devrient came from Vienna to Dresden, a young but already celebrated singer, though at that time wanting in the proper foundation for singing, she was not a little surprised when Miksch called her attention to this deficiency. She devoted herself thoroughly to the primary formation of the tone under the instruction of Miksch, and must still remember the old master, and his extraordinary practice in this particular. Miksch learned it from Caselli, a pupil of Bernacchi. He had just sung as a young tenor, with great applause, in a concert, and introduced himself to Caselli, who was present, expecting to receive his approbation; but the latter, instead of commending, assured him frankly that his mode of singing was false, and that with such misuse his voice would succumb within a year, unless he adopted a correct culture of tone. After much hard struggle, the young Miksch renounced all further public applause, and studied the formation of tone assiduously and perseveringly with Caselli, after having previously allowed his over-strained voice a time for rest.
If a singing-teacher has, by chance, met with a docile pupil, possessed of a voice of unusual beauty, it frequently happens that the studies are not pursued with sufficient perseverance; and, perhaps, are continued only for a few weeks or months, instead of allowing a year or more, according to circumstances. Richard Wagner agrees with me, when he says, "Why, then, write operas to be sung, when we no longer have either male or female singers?"
Since modern progress has come to regard "the three trifles" as belonging entirely to the past, and in their place has proclaimed, "Boldness, Spirit, Power," two evil spirits have had rule: they go hand in hand, ruin the voice, wound the cultivated ear, and provide for us—only empty opera houses. One of these evils has been frequently alluded to by me. It is "the expenditure of a great deal too much breath." The finest voices are obliged to practise with full breath until they shriek, and the result is mere sobbing, and the heavy drawing of the breath, just at the time when the tone should still be heard. Even if every thing else could be right, in such a culture of the tone, which must very shortly relax the muscles of the voice, that one thing, in itself, would be sufficient to destroy all promise of success.
The second evil endangers even the male voice, which is able to endure much ill-treatment; while the female voice is quickly forced by it into a piercing shrillness, or is driven back into the throat, soon to be entirely exhausted, or is, at least, prevented from attaining a natural, fine development. This second evil is the reckless and destructive straining of single tones to their extreme limits, even to perfect exhaustion. The poor singer urges and squeezes out the voice, and quivers to the innermost marrow, in order that the two requirements of "Boldness" and "Power" may be satisfied. But the "Spirit" is still wanting, which should be shown in a light and well-shaded delivery. The effect of extreme shading, however, is accomplished in a single "romanza." The unfortunate, misdirected singer, who must aim at effect, lays out so much force on single tones, or even on whole lines, and that, too, in the best register of his voice (the other registers do not permit this), that the succeeding tones are forced to retire powerless into the throat; and the beautiful, fresh, youthful tenor or bass voice concludes with exhausted groaning and mere speaking tones. The "romanza" is now at an end, and certainly "Boldness, Spirit, and Power" have worked in union. The task is executed the better, because a rude accompaniment has probably sustained the singer in a most striking manner, and has completed the total effect.
By such management, to which I must emphatically add the continual holding of the tones, even in the forte, voices are expected "to come out," to be developed, inspired, and made beautiful. What healthy ear can endure such enormities in tone formation, such tortures in singing? These, then, are the modern contributions for the embellishment of art! A curse on these evil spirits! If my feeble pen shall assist in bringing such singing-teachers to their senses, and shall help to save only a few of our fine voices, I shall consider my mission fulfilled, and the aim of this book, so far as it concerns singing, accomplished.
I have heretofore combated many prejudices, both in earnest and in sport, successfully and unsuccessfully; but one I find very obstinate,—it has pursued me incessantly for years. A piano-player, with a rigid, strained, and vicious touch, proceeding from the arm, may play a great deal, but his playing is thoroughly vulgar and without beauty. He feels this himself, and the playing of my pupils pleases him better. He wishes me to change his style to their better manner; but he still continues to pound, to bang, to exaggerate, and to play in his own way, and only wishes his style to be improved, and his power of execution to be increased. If a performer of this sort is not much more than twenty years of age, something may yet be done for the improvement of his touch, and consequently of his style of playing; but this is only possible by laying aside all his accustomed pieces of music, and by diligently practising, daily, small easy exercises, which must be played delicately, with loose fingers, and without allowing the arm to give the slightest assistance; otherwise, all labor will be thrown away upon him. How else can you begin, except by laying a proper foundation for a better style? I have frequently urged this principle both by speech and in writing; but the difficulty always returns, and especially in the cultivation of female singers.
A girl of eighteen comes to me: she has heard of the excellent cultivation of my lady singers, and wishes to obtain the same for herself. In order that I may hear her voice, she selects the "Erlkönig," by Schubert, that perilous piece, which is apt to lead even highly cultivated singers into frightful atrocities. Heavens! what must I hear? With the remains of a fine, youthful voice, whose registers are already broken up and disconnected, she shrieks out the "Erlkönig," between sobs and groans, with screwed-up chest-tones, and many modern improprieties, but nevertheless with dramatic talent. The piercing voice, forced to its utmost, fills me with horror; but also with pity for such a glorious endowment, and such an unnatural development. At the conclusion, her voice succumbed to the effort, and she could only groan hoarsely, and wheeze without emitting a sound. She has, however, frequently produced great effect in society, and drawn tears with this performance: it is her favorite piece. Let us abandon this singing for parties, this melancholy dilettantismus, everywhere so obtrusive! The girl is only eighteen years old: is she beyond salvation? I endeavor to build her voice up again, gradually, by gentle practice. She succeeds very well in it, and after six lessons her natural docility arouses hope. The head-tones again make their appearance, and the practice of solfeggio brings out once more the stifled voice which had been forced back into the throat by senseless exertions; a better attack begins to be developed, and the chest-register returns to its natural limits. She now declared, with her mother's approval, that she really would continue to study in this way, but she could not give up the performance of her effective and spirited conception of the "Erlkönig." She came a few times more: I could perceive that the good structure was tottering. After a few months, she had entirely sacrificed her voice to this single "Erlkönig." In such tender years, one such idol is sufficient. What a price for an "Erlkönig"! The old, experienced singing-teacher, Miksch, of Dresden (with the exception of Rossini, the last famous champion of the old school), has often warned me that radical amendment is seldom possible with such over-strained and broken voices, which already are obliged to struggle with enfeebled muscles, even although youth may excite great and decided hopes. There is also another difficulty: that one of these strong, over-strained voices must hereafter be used with much less strength, if we wish to cultivate a correct tone; and it is impossible to tell whether the chest-tones, when they are restored to their true limit, will ever come out again as powerful and at the same time as beautiful. Let no musician, however talented and cultivated he may be, ever adopt the teaching of singing, unless he can combine with firmness of character great patience, perseverance, and disinterestedness; otherwise, he will experience very little pleasure and very little gratitude. Even if the "Erlkönig" does not stand in the way, every voice presents new and peculiar difficulties.
A Few Words addressed to Singing-Teachers on the Accompaniment of Etudes, Exercises, Scales, &c.