‘Do we,’ he continues, ‘look for a proof of the insufficiency of all these treatises? Let us examine the actual state of the art. Vocal music was never so generally cultivated, and yet nothing is more uncommon than to meet with a singer whose principles are invariable, and whose execution is always perfect.’—(Preface.)
Very true, indeed, M. Le Camus; and, let us add, we should think the millennium actually arrived were we to meet with a singer, or any other description of human being, ‘always perfect.’
The Method herein proposed and followed, is to accompany the voice of the student, whether he be singing the diatonic or chromatic scales, the different intervals, or melodies of any kind, with a full harmony, in which as many ‘varied modulations are introduced as possible, in order to familiarize his ear with every harmonical combination, so that no transition, however abrupt, may take him by surprise.’—(Preface.)
There is no novelty in all this, we can assure the author; every good master has pursued the same plan. We grant that the number of such masters is not very great; we know that singing is taught,—aye in most instances,—by persons who possess very little, if any, knowledge of principles, or the power of communicating them to others, even if themselves are acquainted with them. But does it follow that, because there are many incapable teachers, a good system has never been followed by those who have studied and know their art? M. Le Camus can have inquired very little into the subject, can have consulted very few works, if he supposes that he now promulgates a system entirely new. We could at once show him three or four treatises in which the same principles are much more fully developed.
In a work of such magnitude it was to be expected that nothing relating to the vocal art would be left unsaid; but the author of this has omitted the mention of much that is essential: he gives no directions for the formation of the voice, touches very briefly on the management of the breath, is wholly silent on the subject of pronunciation, and equally reserved on a point of vital importance—expression[15]. In short, though the author of the Method, which he seems to consider so perfect of its kind, has done something in furtherance of his plan, he has left much more undone; and if, instead of examples of his own (which fill about nineteen-twentieths of the volume), he had chosen fit compositions, in various styles, of the great masters, and treated on the best manner of executing them, he would have rendered a much greater service to the musical world, and made his book far more worth the high price he has fixed on it.
- SERIOUS GLEE, ‘The parted Spirit,’ for four voices, which gained the prize at the Gentlemen’s Glee Club, Manchester, in 1831; the words by JOHN MALCOLM, Esq.; the music by FINLAY DUN, of Edinburgh. (Mori and Lavenu.)
- SERENADE, ‘Lady of Beauty,’ for three voices, by H. GIFFIN. (Brown.)
MR. FINLAY DUN’s glee is rather a successful study than work of genius;—it exhibits more signs of persevering labour than of flights of imagination. And such is the character of some of the best compositions of this kind to which the last quarter of a century has given birth. Many, indeed, brought forth during the same period have nothing to distinguish them but the smell of the lamp,—their only merit consisting in the avoidance of grammatical errors. To write these is exceedingly easy; but it requires talent to compose an effective glee,—genius to produce such as is great or beautiful.
This fortunate work opens with a Largo in F minor, common time, which changes into an andante, and ends with a movement in the major key, three-four time. The poet’s sentiments are, upon the whole, well expressed, though the accentuation is frequently incorrect. At the seventh bar a crescendo on the word ‘blast’ is, indeed, an abortive attempt to make the sound an echo to the sense; and after ‘I call upon the heavens to show,’ there ought to be a rest, or pause of some kind. There is melody in this, but the harmony is most deserving of praise. The gracefulness, though not of a very original kind, of the last movement, most probably carried the votes of the judges; but we speak on this subject with reserve, not knowing the quality of the rivals with which the work had to contend.
The piano-forte accompaniment we cannot approve: with it the composition is no longer a glee. Moreover, by often running in octaves with the alto and other parts, the worst possible effect is produced. If uncertain singers require aid, the only allowable accompaniment to a glee is confined to the very notes given to the voices.