It is in every case for the student himself to determine, from his own feelings, whether the attempt to reach a certain tone produces straining, and for the teacher to judge whether this be so, from the appearance of the face of the pupil, the character of the tone, etc. One thing is certain: harm, and harm only, is done by any form of forcing or straining. At the same time, as the athlete increases the height to which he can jump, or the speed with which he can run, even during a single season, it seems illogical to conclude that in no case can a singer safely reach tones that are not originally in his voice—meaning thereby that he is unable to sing them at the outset of his career. This is one of those subjects on which common sense and science unite in admonishing us to test cautiously and to progress gradually, if the purpose is to be achieved with good results for the individual and for art.
It is also unwise for a singer to attempt those selections in public the range of which taxes him to the very utmost. They lead to undue anxiety as to success, violate the principle of reserve force, to which reference has several times been made, and may lead to vocal failure, if not to injury to the throat. Though it is true that occasionally a song suffers by transposition to a lower key, if the vocalist is determined to sing a composition even slightly beyond his easy range, it is better to resort to it than to risk the possibilities mentioned above and other undesirable ones.
Everyone who purposes to follow the arduous career of the vocal or dramatic artist would do well to realize early the importance of learning the art of conserving energy, or making the most of all that Nature has given him. When a man or woman is small, and has less breath power than some others, it becomes more important that they observe the laws of contrast, rest, etc., in their public efforts. A forte has much the same effect, if it be preceded by darker, quieter tones, as if it were really louder. In like manner, a pause may often serve a very good purpose in preparing the ear of the listener for an effect that should be telling, yet a difficult one for a person of limited physical powers.
In reality, all the best art recognizes, mostly unconsciously, the peculiarities of our physical and mental nature. A continuous forte, for example, ceases to be a forte, in reality, since the ear and the mind weary under it, and all the effect of contrast is lost. As we have more than once said, good art is physiological—in harmony with the laws of the body, as well as of the mind. It follows that each one should study especially how to make the wisest, the most effective, use of his powers, for what is best for one may not be so for another.
A singer or speaker, by reason of a voice somewhat small in volume, may seem to be shut out from certain buildings. This need rarely be the case. The artist must simply the more carefully consider how he shall vary his effects, how so use his powers that they shall suffice. A loud voice may be a very bad one for the hearer, and may annoy and weary rather than please. When a building is large, nearly all effects should be increased—e.g., all pauses lengthened, the tempo taken a little slower, the contrasts made stronger, etc.,—rather than the volume of tone increased. The method of attack becomes of the utmost importance; all low or soft passages should be sung or uttered with the greatest distinctness, all final letters most perfectly finished. It is especially important for a speaker to be aware of his favorite—i.e., most easy and natural—pitch, and also that pitch which best adapts his voice to a certain building. Many forget that sound does not, in reality, travel very rapidly, and that allowance must be made for this, so that one tone shall not break on the ear before another has had time to be attended to—one idea to be grasped before another is presented.
Of all things pauses are of the greatest importance, to the listener, that he may apprehend the ideas presented, and to the speaker, that he may have time to take breath and a brief rest, and also seize the opportunity to readdress himself, so to speak, to his auditors, by the use of another accent, pitch of tone, or whatever he deems most apt to his purpose. Speakers who make suitable pauses with intention (not from lack of ideas), or from an artistic instinct, give pleasure, as well as effect their intellectual purpose, for the listener also gets his moments for rest, perceives readily what is meant, and enjoys the purely sensuous in the art far more than when the speaker's utterance rushes on like a torrent. All this applies to a certain extent to the singer, though it is but very inadequately observed—we must say, however, much better than at a former period, when "ranting," on the stage especially, was a very common fault.
In an earlier chapter attention was given to the precautions to be taken before a public appearance, especially by those who are inexperienced; and we would again emphasize the fact that those who have the best training, and have made the most perfect special preparation for the coming event, are least likely to suffer from that great disturber, nervousness; and when they are somewhat tense, the well-disciplined often recover rapidly, and frequently astonish their friends by the success of their first appearance. We strongly recommend all who can to take rest on the day preceding and following a hard evening's work, and preferably, in summer, in the open air. A quiet walk in a park, where one may think or observe or not, as he feels inclined, is an excellent thing to do, either before or after a strenuous artistic effort. If the battery is to be well charged, it must not be discharged even partially before the right moment. Amateurs and the inexperienced are particularly apt to neglect such precaution for success, and to fritter away their energies by attention to details, possibly trivial ones, up to the last moment.
Happy is he who, well prepared for his task, free from worries, unmoved by envy, jealousy, or undue ambition, can step before the public resolved to do his best for art, and who, having done it, can rest in the satisfaction that he has contributed something to the innocent and ennobling enjoyment of his fellows, and so has helped to advance those of his own generation; caring little for either the flatteries of admirers or a criticism that may be ignorant, unjust, or malignant, but feeling that the best reward is the approval of his own conscience, knowing that "Art is long, and life short."