Style in Singing

by W. E. Haslam

I have already spoken of the bad taste exhibited by some mediocre singers in covering a coloratura air with so many roulades, etc., as to render it barely recognizable. It was after hearing one of his own arias overloaded and disfigured in this manner that Rossini, who was noted for his biting wit and stinging sarcasms, is said to have remarked: “What charming music! Whom is it by?”

Bellini, Donizetti, and composers of their school, sometimes did little more than hand over to the singer engaged to create their works a rough sketch, as it were, which the artists were supposed to fill in and perfect. Singers were expected to add such fioriture, or “flowers,” as would best display their salient points of style and individual characteristics. The Cavatina, or slow movement of the aria, was the medium which called for the qualities of expressive singing, while the Cabaletta was a vehicle for the display of virtuosity and technical mastery. In this latter movement, the equivalent of the Rondo in instrumental music, the performer was left perfectly free to use such embellishments as set forth his own gifts to the greatest advantage. Some singers excelled in bold and rapid flights of scales, chromatic and diatonic; others, in the neat and clean-cut execution of involved traits or figures. It must be remembered, that the great singers of the past were perfectly competent to add these ornaments themselves, as they possessed a complete and sound musical education.

More: sometimes these singers even collaborated with the composers. Crescentini, the last famous male sopranist, is reputed by history or legend—the two are not infrequently synonymous—to have been himself the composer of the well-known aria “Ombra adorata,” introduced by him in Zingarelli’s opera Romeo e Giulietta, as also of the prayer sung by Romeo in the same work. His singing of it is said to have moved his audience to tears, and gained for him the decoration of the Iron Crown, conferred upon him by Napoleon I. The Emperor also induced him, by the offer of a large salary, to settle in Paris as professor of singing.

When these great artists—their career as public singers being ended—began in turn to form pupils, they were admirably fitted for the task of imparting instruction, being excellent musicians, and, as I have said, composers of no insignificant merit. They had a sound theoretical knowledge, compared with which that of many of our modern singers seems but a pale and feeble reflection.

The collaboration of composer and interpreter is not altogether unknown in the domain of instrumental music. Is it not historical that Mendelssohn profited largely from the wise counsels of the celebrated violinist Ferdinand David in the composition of his concerto for violin and orchestra? This does not mean that David contributed any musical phrases or ideas to the work; but that his practical knowledge of the special characteristics and capabilities of the solo instrument enabled him to suggest how the composer’s thoughts might be most fittingly presented.

Returning to the question of the introduction of ornaments, etc., into a composer’s work, the following extract may be of interest to the musical student. It is from a volume of criticism, now out of print, a copy of which is possessed by the present writer. The article appeared in La Patrie more than forty years ago, and was called forth by the ornaments written by the then well-known singer and teacher of great ability, Stéphan de La Madelaine. These changes were for the great air of Agathe in the second act of Der Freischütz, and were the cause of much discussion among the music-critics of the time.

“Following the example of celebrated vocal virtuosi whom he had formerly known, and availing himself of the license then permitted, the master (de La Madelaine) has introduced several alterations (changements). These, however, in no sense clash with the original character of the air itself.

“That the introduction of such ornaments has caused an outcry, is not surprising. We should remember, however, that the Freischütz was written at a period when, in certain places, the composer left the field entirely open to the singer, permitted him to make such changes as he might deem necessary. It must not be thought that in so doing the interpreter corrects the composer: he simply seeks to express, to the utmost of his abilities, the intention of the author.

“The operas of Bellini, of Rossini, and, in general, of all the Italian masters, are full of these intentional gaps (lacunes) which were filled in by the singers. Nay, in the earliest days of the Neapolitan school, still greater liberty was allowed; the recitatives were all improvised by the executants, and were not even noted down. Each singer made his own, which the maestro al cembalo accompanied with a few simple chords.

“In the cavatina in Norma, each cantatrice introduces her own changes on the recurrence of the principal theme, and the public applauds. Why then this outcry against the same procedure in Der Freischütz?