From this it will be understood that every note that is uttered, every inflection even of the speaking voice, however minute, requires a slightly different adjustment of these infinitely delicate threadlike membranes which are provided for this purpose within the box-like larynx; and this extraordinarily delicate adjustment is all effected quite automatically and instinctively by the mere operations of the will.
The brain intimates, so to speak, that it requires a certain note to be produced and forthwith, without the slightest conscious act of adjustment on the part of the singer or speaker, the vocal ligaments adapt themselves precisely in the manner required and the particular note desired is duly produced.
And these notes may issue forth through that tiny aperture and from the throat of the singer to the number of a dozen or more in a second—each one requiring a separate adjustment of the aperture and the said adjustment being effected in every instance, in the case of a properly trained singer, absolutely perfectly and exactly.
Surely of all the many wonderful contrivances which go to the making of the mechanism of the human body there is none which is more wonderful than this! It is, indeed, necessary only to consider the elaboration of the means and the complexity of the muscular adjustments necessary to achieve similar results in the case of a violin, say, or a piano, in order to realise the amazing ingenuity and efficiency of the means employed by Nature.
But I am wandering from the coup de glotte, which I set out to explain. Let it be understood, therefore, that the coup de glotte is merely a name for a particular method of bringing together the lips of the vocal cords and certain subordinate muscles, known as the ventricular bands, with a view to a better and cleaner production of tone, and with a view especially to the avoidance of the particular fault above referred to, namely, the emission of air before the production of the note.
In the result the “attack” is certainly very sharp and clean, but personally I cannot recommend this particular method of achieving that result, since the effect is anything but agreeable to the ear, and there is good reason for thinking that the practice, besides being unnecessary, is also injurious to a vocal organ.
I will not go further into the matter, however, since all such technical details are for the teacher to explain and illustrate and cannot be satisfactorily dealt with in print.
Certain general principles may, however, be touched on, amongst which the first is, perhaps, that there should never be at any time the smallest conscious strain or effort. Relaxation, looseness, ease, should be the watchwords all the time. Rigidity, tightening of the muscles, stiffness, contraction, are fatal to the production of beautiful tone. Here, as so often in art, when grace and beauty are the objects aimed at, economy of effort is the grand secret.
There should never be any strain or forcing of any sort or kind, and on the same principle, it may be noted, is the rule as to the amount of breath emitted, which should always be the smallest quantity possible which suffices to produce the tone required. Let out enough breath and no more—keeping the remainder in reserve—that is one of the fundamental secrets of beautiful tone production.
Lilli Lehmann puts the same point in another way when she insists on the supreme importance of emitting “as little breath as possible.” Perhaps I may be permitted to quote, also, in this connection some interesting remarks of Signor Salvatore Fucito, in a recently published volume, in reference to the practice of Caruso in this regard.