The principal cartilage of the larynx is the thyroid or shield cartilage, named from the Greek thureos (shield). It really consists of two shields joined along the edges in front (its most forward upper projection being the Adam's apple) and opening out at the back. The thyroid is the uppermost cartilage of the larynx and the Adam's apple is the uppermost portion of the front of the larynx. But as the shields open out back of the Adam's apple, they slope upward and at the extreme back each shield has a marked upward prolongation like a horn. By these horns, enforced by membrane, the thyroid cartilage and through it the whole larynx is attached to and is suspended from the hyoid bone, or tongue-bone. This gives mobility to the larynx and freedom of movement to the neck; and the larynx, while mobile as a whole, furthermore is capable of an infinite number of muscular adjustments and readjustments within itself.

At the back the lower edges of the thyroid rest upon the cricoid cartilage, which derives its name from the Greek krikos, a signet-ring. This is next in size to the thyroid. The broader portion, the part which corresponds to the seal in a signet-ring, is at the back. Attached at the back, the two cartilages do not, however, meet in front. Place a finger on the Adam's apple, slide it down a little way, and the slight depression there met with locates the front opening, covered with yielding membrane, between the thyroid and cricoid cartilages.

On the broader part of the cricoid—that is, on the part in the back of the larynx—and rising inside the thyroid are two smaller cartilages, the arytenoid or ladle cartilages, named from the Greek arutaina, a ladle. Though smaller than either thyroid or cricoid, they are highly important, because they form points of attachment for the vocal cords. These (the vocal cords) are attached in front to the inner part of the angle formed by the two wings of the thyroid just back of the Adam's apple, and behind to a forward projecting spur at the base of each of the arytenoid cartilages, which for this reason often are spoken of as the "vocal process."

The vocal cords, as has been stated, lie parallel to each other, and the space between them is known as the glottis or chink of the glottis. Above the glottis and on opposite sides are two pockets or ventricles, and above these are the so-called false cords or ventricular bands. The pockets are, in fact, bordered below by the vocal cords and above by the false cords. The false cords or ventricular bands (a name given to them by Mackenzie) are the lower edges of membranous folds that form the upper entrance to the larynx. Here are two pairs of small cartilages, the cartilages of Santorini and the cartilages of Wrisberg. Usually they are dismissed as of little or no importance. Yet they have, in connection with muscles located in that part of the larynx, their roles to play in those numerous adjustments and readjustments which, as I shall show a little later on, are of the greatest importance in voice-generation. For I consider, as I also will show, that the numerous, indeed innumerable, and extremely subtle and exquisite changes of shape of which the larynx is capable within itself, have much to do with the actual creation of the tone which eventually issues from the lips; although I believe this statement to be contrary to all accepted authority. For the present, however, I must content myself with this mere statement.

The larynx is protected above by a lid, a flexible, leaf-shaped cartilage, the epiglottis. The gullet, or food-passage to the stomach, is situated behind the larynx and windpipe, and the function of the epiglottis is to close the larynx and to act as a bridge over which food passes from the mouth into the gullet. But for the epiglottis, food might get into the larynx and thence into the windpipe every time we swallowed, with what distressing and even disastrous effect any one who has ever "swallowed the wrong way" well knows. When open, on the other hand, the epiglottis forms a beautifully smooth cartilaginous curve, over which the sounding air, the tone, as it issues from the larynx, is guided to the resonance cavities above the larynx, which are the cavities of the mouth and of the nose. While parts of these cavities are solid, like the roof of the mouth, other parts, like the soft palate, are pliable; while the tongue is so astoundingly mobile that it constantly can alter the resonance cavity of the mouth as to dimension and shape.

The larynx is swathed and lined with membrane and muscle. These membranes and muscles are named after the cartilages to which they are attached, between which they lie, or which they operate. There is no reason why they should be enumerated now. The function of the muscles of the larynx is stated by all authorities with which I am familiar to be twofold—to open and close the glottis (the space between the vocal cords), and to regulate the tension of the vocal cords, because the vibrations of these are considered the determining factor of vocal pitch. Sir Morell Mackenzie, however, in describing the muscles of the larynx in a passage couched in untechnical language, unconsciously gives a hint of another purpose for which the complexity of muscles in the larynx may exist. After speaking of the "innumerable little fingers of the muscles which move the vocal cords," he continues: "These fingers (which prosaic anatomists call fibres), besides being almost countless in number, are arranged in so intricate a manner that every one who dissects them finds out something new, which, it is needless to say, is forthwith given to the world as an important discovery. It is probable that no amount of macerating or teasing ever will bring us to 'finality' in this matter; nor do I think it would profit us much as regards our knowledge of the physiology of the voice if the last fibrilla of tiny muscle were run to earth. The mind can form no clearer notions of the infinitely little than of the infinitely great, and the microscopic movements of these tiny strips of contractile tissue would be no more real to us than the figures which express the rapidity of light and the vast stretches of astronomical time and distance. Moreover, no two persons have their laryngeal muscles arranged in precisely the same manner—a circumstance which of itself goes a considerable way toward explaining the almost infinite variety of human voices. The wonderful diversity of expression in faces which structurally, as we may say, are almost identical, is due to minute differences in the arrangement of the little muscles which move the skin. The same thing holds good of the larynx."

These are significant words. The distinguished physician who wrote them might just as well have said that the generally prevailing theory that in voice-production the muscles of the larynx exist solely to open and close the glottis and to regulate the tension and hence the vibration of the vocal cords, is incorrect. For they also exist in order to shape and reshape the entire larynx within itself according to the note to be produced, and the opening or closing of the glottis with the degree of tension of the vocal cords resulting therefrom is but one detail in the coordination of adjustments and readjustments which prepare the vocal tract to produce the tone the singer hears in his mind. Nearly every authority on the physiology of voice-production believes that the vocal tone is produced solely by the vibration of the vocal cords, and that the entire vocal tract situated above the vocal cords is concerned merely with augmenting the tone and determining its timbre or quality. Let us examine this theory and ascertain how tenable it is.

To begin with, the term "cord" as applied to the vocal cords is misleading. It suggests a resemblance between the vocal cords and the strings of a violin, which are capable of great tension, or at least a resemblance between the vocal cords and the vibrating reed of a reed-instrument. In point of fact, the vocal cords are neither strings nor reeds, and are not even freely suspended from end to end or from one end like reeds, but are attached along their entire lower portion to the inner wall of the larynx. Therefore they are not cords, nor strings, nor reeds in any sense whatsoever. They are shelves composed of flesh and muscle, their substance resembles neither the catgut of which the strings of stringed instruments are made nor the cane, wood or metal of which the reeds of reed-instruments are formed; and the entire length of each cord is a trifle more than half an inch in men and a little less than half an inch in women. Almost every writer on voice appears to consider the term "cord" as applied to them a misnomer. They have been spoken of as membranous lips. "The vocal 'cord' is not a string, but the free edge of a projecting fold of membrane," says Mackenzie. Yet it is not only claimed but announced over and over again as a physiological fact that the human voice, sometimes sweet and mellow, sometimes tense and vibrant and with its great range, is produced solely by the vibration of two projecting folds of membrane, free only at their edges and at their longest only a little over half an inch in length.

At least one writer on voice-production, Prof. Wesley Mills, appears to have doubted the correctness of the old and oft-repeated theory. "Allusion must be made," he writes in "Voice-Production in Singing and Speaking," "to the danger of those engaged in mathematical and physical investigation applying their conclusions in too rigid a manner to the animal body. It was held until recently that the pitch of a vocal tone was determined solely by the number of vibrations of the vocal bands, as if they acted like the strings of a violin or the reed of a clarinet, while the resonance chambers were thought to simply take up these vibrations and determine nothing but the quality of tone.... It seems probable that the vocal bands so beat the air within the resonance chambers as to determine the rate of vibration of the air of these cavities, and so the pitch of the tone produced." This at least shows dissatisfaction with the old theory and attaches some share of their due importance to the resonance cavities, but it still is far from describing the correct phenomenon of voice-production.

Show a lateral section of a larynx to a trumpet or horn player and he will at once recognize its similarity to the cupped mouthpiece and tube of trumpet or horn, the cup in the larynx being formed by the ventricles or pockets above the vocal cords. Extend the picture so that it includes not only the larynx but the resonance cavities of the head as well, and the cornet, trumpet or horn player will recognize the similarity to the tube of his instrument as it turns upon itself. The manner in which the lips shape themselves as the player blows into the instrument, the form and size of the cup, the gyration and friction of the air within it and within the bent portion of the tube, determine the pitch and the quality of the tone that issues from the bell of the instrument.

The shape assumed by the lips, which are capable of many exquisite variations in shape, conditions the form of the air-column as it enters the cup of the trumpet or horn. This I believe to be one important function performed for the larynx by the vocal cords, which Mackenzie, with an aptness he could not have appreciated, called the lips of the glottis. They are, in fact, the lips of the essential organ of voice, the larynx. If they are looked at from below they will be seen to be bevelled, and their resemblance to lips even more striking.

While, however, the importance of the vocal cords in tone-production has been overestimated, I should be going to the opposite extreme if I limited their importance to their function as the lips of the glottis. Not only are they lips, but vibrating lips, their vibrations, however, requiring enforcement through the sympathetic vibrations which they generate within the cup of the larynx and in the cavities above. As lips, the vocal cords shape the air-column as it enters the larynx, to the required note; as vibrating lips—set into vibration by the very air-column to which they have given shape—they start the vibrations essential to pitch and pass them along into the cup of the larynx, which also has shaped itself to the note and where gyration and friction begin to reinforce the vibrations started by the cords. What is true of the cup also is true of the resonance-cavities. In other words, the entire vocal tract, from cords to lips, shapes and reshapes itself with reference to the tone that is to be produced, and what thus goes on above the vibrating cords cooperates to produce the effect formerly attributed to the cords alone.

The fact that the cup of the larynx subtly changes its shape for each tone produced, makes the hitherto obscure subject of registers of the voice, which many writers have written around but none about, perfectly clear. The cup assumes what may be called a generic shape for each register, and then goes through subtle adjustments of shape for the different notes within each register. But this is a subject to be taken up in detail later.

The reader now will understand why at different points in this chapter I have emphasized the fact that the larynx as a whole and throughout all its parts is capable of numerous adjustments in shape, and that the same is true of the resonance-cavities. The vocal tract of an accomplished singer is capable of as many adjustments as a sensitive face is of changes in expression. This phenomenon is the vocal tract making ready to generate, vitalize and emit the tone suggested by the mind—mind pressing the button, the physical organs of voice-production doing the rest.



CHAPTER VI

PITCH AND SYMPATHETIC VIBRATION

It is sympathetic vibration, manifesting itself in some instances in the chest and in the head cavities, and in other instances almost entirely within the latter, that gives to voices their peculiar timbre or tone-quality—their physiognomy. It is by timbre that we distinguish voices as we distinguish features. With instruments, differences in quality of tone—differences in timbre—are due to differences of shape; and in case of instruments of the same kind, for example, violins, to slight differences in form or to the grain, age and quality of the wood. In the same manner, there are minute differences in the structure of the vocal tract of different people; and it is especially the structural differences between the resonant cavities of individual singers that determine differences of timbre or quality. It is easy to distinguish between tones even of the same pitch that come from a harp, a violin, a trumpet, a flute or from the human voice. Between two violins of exactly the same make, played on by the same person, there would be greater difficulty in discovering differences in the quality of tone, although, even if made after the same pattern and about the same date, there probably would be minute structural differences that would differentiate their timbre to a musical ear; while if, of two violins, one of the instruments were new, and the other old, a musical ear probably would immediately detect differences in their tone-quality.

It is easier to distinguish between voices even of the same range, than between instruments of the same kind, because there is strong individuality in voices. This is due to the fact that structural differences between the vocal tracts of individuals are far more numerous and far more minute than possibly can be introduced into instruments. Moreover, the vocal tract, being part of the human body, is subtly responsive to innumerable impulses and adjusts and readjusts itself in innumerable ways. Instruments are made of material, chiefly wood and metal, and, unlike the vocal tract, cannot change structurally. The cornet, for example, is made of brass. The lips of the player protruding into the cup can effect certain changes in shape, and changes also can be made in the tube between the mouthpiece and the bell of the instrument by pistons or valves. But these changes are absurdly small in number compared with the structural changes of which the vocal tract is capable, and commonplace in character compared with the refined and subtle minuteness of the latter. For this reason, while there is a distinct timbre for each kind of instrument, there are innumerable timbres of the human voice—as many as there are voices, and all due to the pliability of the vocal tract.

It is the manner in which the numerous individual conformations of the vocal tract affect the overtones in the voice that makes voices different from each other; for the overtones are the chief agency in determining the timbre, quality, or physiognomy of any tone. Every tone consists of a fundamental or ground tone with its overtones. The fundamental tone determines the pitch; the overtones determine the quality, tone-color, timbre, or physiognomy of the tone.

The overtones, or harmonics, as they also are called, vibrate in certain simple harmonic relations with the fundamental—from twice to five times as often per second, sounding the octave above, the fifth of that octave, the second octave, the major third of that octave, etc. So important is it to the individual musical quality of tone, to secure the cooperation of overtones, that in certain large open organ pipes, which are deficient in these, extra pipes of higher pitch and corresponding with the overtones of the fundamental note, are added and joined to the register. Overtones without the fundamental can be obtained on stringed instruments by stopping one of the strings and then touching it lightly at other points. The soft, sweet, ethereal character of the harmonics produced in this manner on a violin conveys some idea of the manner in which the many overtones of a note give it its distinctive quality.

In a way the overtones may be said to echo the fundamental, but the ear receives fundamental and overtones blended as one tone of a certain timbre. What that timbre is, is determined by the shape of the resonating cavity or cavities, the shape of which in turn is determined by the shape of the instrument, and in different voices by infinitesimal differences in the shape of various parts of the vocal tract. All instruments of a kind are made more or less on the same pattern and vary but little in shape. For this reason we have the distinct violin, horn, clarinet or pianoforte timbre, and so on down the list, but I repeat here that there are not such minute and individual differences between instruments of the same kind as there are between voices of the same range, because there are no such minute and individual structural differences in instruments as in the vocal organs of individuals—differences that each individual can multiply ad infinitum by the subtle and delicate play of muscles acting in response to mental suggestion, art sense, inspiration, temperament, psychic impulse, or by whatever cognate term one may choose to call it.

There is little or nothing of psychology in Mackenzie's book, and yet, like other writers on voice-production, he appears now and then to be groping for it. Thus, when he speaks of the fundamental tone being reinforced by its overtones—by a number of secondary sounds higher in pitch and fainter in intensity—he adds very beautifully that every resonance-cavity has what may be called its elective affinity, or one particular note, to the vibrations of which it responds sympathetically like a lover's heart answering that of his beloved. "As the crude tone issues from the larynx, the mouth, tongue and soft palate, moulding themselves by the most delicately adaptive movements into every conceivable variety of shape, clothe the raw bones of sound with body and living richness of tone. Each of the various resonance-chambers reechoes its corresponding tone, so that a single well-delivered note is, in reality, a full choir of harmonious sounds."

Voice being, like instrumental tone, a commixture of fundamental and overtones, and the manner in which the composite conformation of collective waves strikes the ear being largely determined by the cavities of resonance, the control of these is of great importance to the singer. This control should, by thorough training, be brought to such a degree of efficiency that it becomes subconscious and automatic, so that the resonance-cavities shape themselves instantly to the note that is being produced within the larynx and, vibrating in sympathy with it, sound the overtones. The reciprocal principle of elective affinity between fundamental and overtone, between the shape assumed by the larynx for pitch and the shape assumed by the resonance-cavities for quality, is illustrated by the exciting influence of a sounding instrument upon a silent one tuned to the same pitch which, although not touched by human hand, sounds in sympathy with the one that is being played on. Even a jar standing upon a mantel-shelf, a globe on a lamp, a glass on a table, or some other object in the room, may vibrate and rattle when a certain note is struck on the pianoforte. This is the result of sympathetic vibration. Thus, although vocal tone originates within the larynx, it sets the resonance-cavities into sympathetic vibration, and these produce the harmonics that give the fundamental tone its timbre; the resonance-cavities being to the vocal cords or lips what the body or resonance-box of the violin and the sounding-board of the pianoforte are to their strings, the tube of a cornet or horn to the lips, the body of the clarinet to its reed—the resonating factor which determines the overtones and through these the timbre.

Excepting the chest and trachea the resonance-cavities of the voice are located above the larynx. To the chest as a resonator the low tones of the voice owe much of their great volume. Indeed, the chest is such a superb and powerful resonating box that, if it resonated also for the high tones, these, with their inherent capacity for penetration, probably would become disagreeably acute. Therefore, nature, wise in this as in many other things, has decreased chest vibration as the voice ascends the scale.

Above the larynx is the pharynx, a space extending to the base of the skull and opening into the mouth, and higher up connecting with the base of the nose by means of two passages, the posterior nares, or back nasal passages. The walls of the pharynx are permeated by a network of muscles, so that this important space or resonance-cavity immediately above the larynx is susceptible of numerous adjustments and readjustments in size and shape; and as it lies with its back wall against the spinal column, it also is susceptible and immediately responsive to suggestion from the mind.

Another important resonance-cavity, indeed, the most important, is the mouth, roofed by the hard palate which separates the mouth from the nasal chamber, to which latter it also forms the floor. In the mouth is the tongue, extremely mobile, and thus capable of materially changing the size and shape of the mouth-cavity. Hanging from the rear of the hard palate, like a veil over the root of the tongue, is the soft palate; attached to which is the uvula. This hangs vertically down from the soft palate and, if the rear end of the tongue is allowed to bulge upward slightly, can be made to form with it a kind of valve, by which voice is conveyed directly into the mouth-cavity without any of it escaping up the posterior nasal passage; while the soft palate by itself alone can be drawn up so as to touch the back wall of the pharynx, completely closing the passage to the nose, so that a continuous curved resonance-cavity is afforded from larynx to lips.

The soft palate is continued on either side by two folds known as the fauces; and each of the fauces has two ridges, the pillars of the fauces, between which are the tonsils. The pillars of the fauces enclose muscular fibres which act respectively on the tongue, the sides of the pharynx, and the upper part of the larynx, and thus aid in the necessary movements of the vocal tract.

The nasal passage, divided into two ducts by a vertical partition, the vomer septum, was referred to in the chapter on inspiration. The so-called sinuses are hollow spaces in small bones on either side and above the nasal passage and communicating directly or indirectly with it. A question regarding the nasal cavity, including the sinuses, suggests itself. Of what use is the nasal passage as a cavity of resonance if, in order to prevent a nasal quality of tone, the passage during voice-emission is shut off by the action of the soft palate, or by the combined action of the soft palate, uvula and tongue? The answer is, first, that it is not always to be closed off, because there are times when a slightly nasal timbre in voice is desirable; secondly, that even when the nasal cavity is shut off, the hard palate being not only the roof of the mouth but also the floor of the nose, its vibrations are communicated to the nasal cavity, but not directly enough to give a disagreeable nasal quality to the voice.

From this survey it will be seen that the cavities of resonance along the vocal tract may be divided into such parts as are solid, pliable and movable. The solid parts are sharply resonant; they are, par excellence, the resonators in voice-production; while a pliable part, like the pharynx, although resonant in a less degree, is valuable in adjusting structural shape to every condition that arises; and the most movable parts of all, the tongue and the lips, probably wholly devoid of resonance, have their great roles to play in effecting what may be called wholesale changes in the size and shape of the mouth-cavity, which could not be brought about by any other agencies less mobile. The roof of the mouth, the teeth, the hard gums, the cones of the nasal passage, and the sinuses are the solid portions of the cavities of resonance. When Svengali gazed into Trilby's mouth and exclaimed, "Himmel, what a roof!" he spoke from the depths of vocal knowledge. For a highly arched mouth roof, especially if the tone enters the mouth cavity from a wide, well-rounded pharynx, is of great value to the singer. So is a fine, shapely, regular set of teeth, especially as regards the upper front teeth, behind which the vibrations appear to centre in so called "forward production." Cautiously brought into play, the posterior nasal passage assists, with its resonance, the head tones of the female voice and the upper range of male voices; but care must be taken not to carry the tone up into the nose and thus give it a nasal quality.

Some writers class the walls of the pharynx with the solid parts of the vocal tract. But the walls of the pharynx are pliable, as already has been pointed out, together with the admirable results to be derived from their flexibility when under the singer's control. The movable parts of or pertaining to the resonance-cavities are the soft palate with the uvula, the fauces, the cheeks, the lips, the lower jaw and, most mobile of all, the tongue.

The uvula often is too long, either by nature or through a disease called prolongation of the uvula. It can be treated by astringents or the elongation can be cut off, which usually is the most prompt and efficacious way. The operator, however, in case the patient is a singer, must calculate to a nicety just how much to remove, otherwise the voice will suffer. There are isolated cases of deformed soft palate with uvula so enormous that it cannot be raised. In such cases, one of which is instanced by Kofler, a surgical operation being out of the question, the patient simply has to give up singing.

Enlarged tonsils, whether from inflammation or other causes, also have to be operated on, as their enlargement obviously hinders free voice-emission. Even at its best the mouth-passage here is narrowest—and called the "isthmus"—and nothing must be allowed to make it narrower than it is by nature. The lips never should lie flat against the teeth, since this would muffle resonance. On the other hand, the teeth should not be bared, as this results in a foolish grin. The cheeks naturally conform to the action of the lips. The lower jaw should be relaxed, which gives the so-called "floating chin." When the lower jaw, and with it the chin, is raised, the throat is tightened, and voice-action becomes constricted. The "floating chin" does not, of course, mean that the chin is to be thrust downward into the chest. In singing, as in everything else, there is a golden rule to be observed.

It is obvious that the tongue also is a highly responsible member of the vocal tract. Raise it too high, and you bring it so close to the hard palate that the mouth becomes too small for free, resonant voice-emission. The tone becomes wheezy. Let the tongue lie too flat, and the mouth-cavity becomes too large and cavernous for tense, vibrant voice-emission. The tone becomes too open. Let the base of the tongue move back too far, and it will tend to close the pharynx and to check free egress from the pharynx into the mouth, making the tone muffled. Raise the back of the tongue until it touches the soft palate, and the two combined close the mouth-cavity from behind, with the result that voice is carried up the nasal passage and is charged with a disagreeable nasal quality.

For every tone produced there is a special adjustment throughout the entire vocal tract. These adjustments should, by practice, become automatic, simple acts of swift and unconscious obedience to the will. Then the question of "forward," "backward," or "middle" production, according to the part of the roof of the mouth where the tone-vibrations appear to centre, will become a matter wholly of the quality of voice which it is desired to produce for any given emotional state. Forward production—vibration appearing to centre a little back of the upper front teeth—is, as a general thing, the best. Yet a voice brilliant to the point of hardness can be mellowed by middle or backward production. These are matters of judgment. But when I am told, as I was by a young girl, that she was being taught to centre the tone-vibrations "back of her eyes," all I can do is to throw up my hands and exclaim, "O voice-production, what crimes are committed in thy name!" Yes—there should be a Rescue League, or a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Singers.



CHAPTER VII

REGISTERS OF THE VOICE

The subject of vocal registers is a difficult one—difficult to understand and, when understood, difficult to make intelligible to others. In fact, it is so difficult that some people get rid of it by calmly asserting that there are no registers. This is unfortunate, because the blending of the registers, the smoothing out of the voice where one register passes over into another, the elimination of the "break" between them, is one of the greatest problems which the teacher of voice-production is obliged to solve. Like so many other branches in the art of voice-production, the subject is complicated by initial misunderstandings. Numerous people suppose, for example, that the vocal registers are synonymous with the different kinds of voices, and speak of the alto, soprano, bass or tenor register as if register stood for quality, which it does not. Another complication results from the fact that certain phenomenal voices, chiefly tenor, literally rise superior to the law of vocal registers. Thus, a phenomenal tenor like Duprez sang with ease the whole tenor range, including the high C, in the powerful, vibrant "chest" register, whereas the average tenor, while producing a great portion of his voice in the chest register, is obliged at a certain point in the ascending scale to pass into the "middle" and beyond that into the "head" register.

The breaks that occur in average voices at certain points of the scale have established the divisions of the voice into registers. These breaks can be accounted for on scientific grounds; and if the physiology of voice-production had done no more than explain the why and wherefore of vocal registers, it would have justified itself through this alone.

Suppose there were a man able to produce the entire male vocal compass, from deepest bass to highest tenor. While for every note throughout the entire compass there would be subtle changes in the adjustment of the vocal tract, the following also would be true:—That, beginning with the lowest note and throughout the first octave of his voice, the changes in the adjustment of the vocal tract would not alter the general character of the adjustment for that octave; that, on entering the second octave, there would be a tendency toward change in the general adjustment of the vocal tract; while, for the production of the remaining notes above, an almost startling change in the adjustment of the vocal tract would take place. The same would be true if a woman, capable of producing the entire female vocal compass, were to begin with the lowest contralto and sing up to the highest soprano tone. It is the general character of the adjustment of the vocal tract for a certain range of notes in the vocal scale that determines each register, the two principal changes in adjustment causing two breaks in the smooth progression of the voice.

Allowing for the fact that the male voice is an octave below the female voice, but in all other respects corresponds with it in range, the adjustment of the vocal tract throughout each register is the same for both men and women singers. There is, I fear, a prevalent notion on the part of the musical public that each voice has its own separate registers; that, for example, the registers of the soprano voice are at different points of the scale from those of the alto, and those of the tenor at different points from both of these. But this is not the case. Always allowing for the octave difference between the male and female voice, the registers for all voices are at fixed points of the scale and are, or should be, sung by all voices with the same adjustment of the vocal tract. A few examples will make this clear.

The lowest register for female voice is:

[Music: F3-F4]

that for male voice:

[Music: F2-F3]

i.e., an octave lower. These are the first eight notes of the alto of the female voice and of the bass of the male voice. Alto and bass sing these notes with precisely the same adjustment of the vocal tract. The vocal cords in this register vibrate along their entire length, the space between them, also the "cup" and the general adjustment of the vocal tract, are open. A good soprano can come down into this register as far as [Music: C4] and a good tenor as far as [Music: C3], and when these voices come down into this register they too sing with the same adjustment of the vocal tract as is used for the same tones by alto and bass. This, therefore, constitutes the lowest register for all voices—not because it consists of certain notes, but because these notes require the same general adjustment of the vocal tract for their production by all voices.

When it comes to the next or middle register:—[Music: F4-F5] for female voices (and an octave below for male voices), soprano and tenor sing through this entire register with ease, using a slightly different adjustment of the vocal tract from that which they employed when they went down into the lowest register. The ordinary alto stops at C in this register, as does also the bass at an octave lower. When they enter it their vocal tract adjusts itself to it and corresponds with the adjustment employed in it by soprano and tenor. In this register the vocal cords still vibrate along their entire length, but as the voice progresses upward, they show a tendency to shorten the glottic chink, and the cup, as well as the adjustment of the entire vocal tract, tends to become less open. It is the register of transition, placed between the lowest and highest, as if to bridge over the interval.

The highest register: [Music: F5-C6] (an octave lower for male voice) calls for an extraordinary change in the adjustment of the vocal tract. The vocal cords are pressed tightly together at the rear and sometimes both at the rear and front. These portions thus cease to vibrate. Only the small free parts vibrate and these only at the edges. As the voice progresses up the scale the stop action ceases, the elliptical opening and the cup become smaller, and the entire vocal tract is, comparatively speaking, contracted. This register practically belongs only to sopranos and tenors. For example, although some baritones are capable of adjusting their vocal tracts to this register, their voices lose the baritone timbre, take on a feminine quality, and become male altos.

In other words, there are three registers, and they correspond for all voices, but certain voices sing more in one register than in the others. Thus, the lowest register is the special province of the alto and the bass; soprano and tenor can come down only a few notes into it. The middle and the highest registers are the special province of soprano and tenor. The ordinary alto and bass can come up only part way into the middle register and cannot follow soprano and tenor at all into the highest.

The division of the registers which I have made is subject to many practical exceptions, which so far I have avoided mentioning, because I wanted to fix in the reader's mind the fact that the registers are the same for all voices and are determined by the special adjustment of the vocal apparatus required for their production, and not by voice-quality. Now and then in a generation there may appear upon the scene a singer, usually tenor, who for his high notes is not obliged to adopt the somewhat artificial adjustment required by the highest register, but can sing all his tones in the easier adjustments of the lowest or middle register. But he is a phenomenon, the exception that proves the rule. Another practical exception to my rigid division of the registers is furnished by the overlapping of registers, the capacity of a singer to produce the lower notes of one register with the vocal adjustment employed for the higher notes of the register below, and vice versa; so that where the registers meet there are possibly some half a dozen optional notes. Most basses and baritones, for example, sing only in one register, that is, they carry the vocal adjustment for the lowest register into the notes they are able to sing in the register above. These exceptions will be considered later. At present, in order to treat this difficult subject in something that at least approaches an elementary manner, it is necessary to make the division of the vocal scale into registers a somewhat rigid one.

It is, then, the three different adjustments of the vocal tract which determine the three divisions of the vocal scale and likewise the positions or registers for each division. The basis, therefore, for the division of voice-production into registers is not haphazard, but rests on the science of physiology. That there are not separate registers for men and women is due to the fact that men's voices run parallel to those of women at an interval of an octave below, and that, note for note, the adjustment of the male vocal tract is the same as that of the female vocal tract an octave above. For this reason basses and baritones, although singing an octave below contraltos and altos, sing in the same registers; for this reason also, tenors, although singing an octave below sopranos, employ the same registers. I am, of course, speaking of average voices, not of phenomenal ones.

Mackenzie has defined a register as a series of tones of like quality producible by a particular adjustment of the vocal cords. Mills defines register as a series of tones of a characteristic clang, timbre, color or quality due to the employment of a special mechanism of the larynx in a particular manner. Both definitions practically mean the same thing. What I object to in them is their use of the word "quality," and Mackenzie's limitation of the adjustment to the vocal cords and Mills' to the larynx. The adjustment takes place throughout the entire vocal tract. Indeed, one of the claims I make for this book is, that it does not limit the voice-producing factor to the vibrations of the vocal cords, but while recognizing the importance of these, also considers the importance of the rest of the vocal tract in relation to them. Other writers hold that voice is produced solely by the vibrations of the vocal cords, and that the rest of the vocal tract is concerned merely with determining the timbre of the voice. But I do not limit the function of the vocal tract below and above the cords simply to voice quality. To produce a given tone requires not only vibration of the cords but an adjustment along the entire tract and especially a change in the size and shape of the cup space. If one wished to be exasperatingly accurate one might say that each adjustment constituted a register, and that in every voice there were as many registers as there are tones. But surveying the progress of the voice up the vocal scale, and as a whole, it is found that up to a certain point the general character of adjustment within the vocal tract is the same, that beyond that point there is a change to another adjustment of a general character, and further beyond still another—in other words, that there are three registers.

Some writers recognize only two physical changes in the mechanism of the vocal tract and consequently only two registers instead of three. They dispense entirely with the middle register because the general change there in the adjustment within the vocal tract is not, in their opinion, sufficient to determine a new register. In point of fact, however, while the lower vocal range calls the vocal cords into vibration along their entire length, and while for the highest range only a portion of the edges of the vocal cords vibrate, the adjustment for the medium tones shows a gradual change from the first condition to the third. It is a bridge by which the voice crosses in safety from the lowest to the highest register—a register of transition, but a register withal.

Moreover, as the voice progresses upward through the scale, three distinct physical sensations are experienced by the singer according as to whether he is singing low, middle or high. There is one physical sensation for the lower, another for the middle and a third for the higher notes. This would indicate that there is, after all, more of a change in the adjustment of the vocal tract for the middle notes than is apparent superficially, and confirms the position of those who hold that there are three vocal registers instead of two.

In voice-production of the lower notes there is a physical sensation of vibration in the upper chest; on the medium notes, in the pharynx; on the higher notes, in the head. These physical sensations have determined the names of chest register for the lower and head register for the higher range of tones. Strictly speaking, the middle range should be denominated pharyngeal or throat register, but usually it is called the medium or middle register. In the chest register the vibrations of the vocal cords are slow and heavy; the vocal tract being in its relaxed, open adjustment, the larynx sinks slightly and, the vibrations taking place in their nearest proximity to the chest, they are communicated to it. In the middle register the adjustment of the vocal tract is more closed than in the chest register, the larynx rises a little, the shape of the vocal tract is determined largely by the relative positions assumed by the epiglottis and the soft palate, and the vibrations no longer can communicate themselves to the chest, but are felt in the pharynx. In the head register the vocal cords come together at one end, sometimes at both ends, and only the upturned edges of the resulting small aperture vibrate, throwing the sensation of vibration up into the head. In every way Nature seems to indicate that there are three vocal registers.

The most extreme limits of human voice so far known were found in the voices of Ludwig Fischer, a bass singer, and of Lucrezia Agujari (La Bastardella), a florid soprano. Fischer created the role of Osmin in Mozart's "Entfuehring aus dem Serail." His voice went down to contra F [Music: F1] an entire octave lower than the ordinary bass singer. La Bastardella sang as high as [Music: C7] or an octave higher than what usually is spoken of as soprano "high C." These, however, were marvellous voices, so extraordinary that they form part of the history of singing. Indeed, Baker, in his "Biographical Dictionary of Musicians," credits Fischer with D—a^1 [Music: D2-A4].

A reasonable statement of the vocal compass would be 2-1/2 octaves, or [Music: F3 to C6] for female voice and the same, an octave lower, for male voice. Allowing for unusual voices, the statement would be as follows:

[Music:

Treble staff: Low or Chest Register. D3-F4 Middle Register. G4-F5 High or Head Register. G5-F6

Bass staff: Low or Chest Register. C2-F3 Middle Register. G3-F4 High or Head Register. G4-C5]

This musical example shows that save for the lowest note of the bass voice and the three highest of the soprano, the male and female compass parallel each other at an interval of an octave apart, and that the division of the registers is the same for both.

Still utilizing the same musical example, but noting now the two chief divisions of male and female voices (bass and tenor in the male and alto and soprano in the female), the example would be divided as follows:

[Music:

Alto. Low or Chest Register. D3-F4 Middle Register. G4-F5

Soprano. Low or Chest Register. C4-F4 Middle Register. G4-F5 High or Head Register. G5-F6

Bass. Low or Chest Register. C2-F3 Middle Register. G3-E4

Tenor. Low or Chest Register. B[flat]2-F3 Middle Register. G3-F4 High or Head Register. G4-C5]

It must be borne in mind that registers overlap, that they extend up and down one into another, and that at points where this occurs it is optional with the singer in which of the two overlapping registers he will produce his tones. There are many singers who can sing at will the lower half of the middle register either in chest or middle, and the upper half of the middle either in middle or head. It is to be noted, however, that it is easier to bring down a tone from a higher into a lower register than to force up a register, the latter proceeding often being ruinous to the voice.

Duprez, a phenomenal tenor, could, as I have stated, sing the whole tenor range in the chest register. He could emit the ut de poitrine, which means that he could sing even tenor high C in the chest register. The result was that half the tenors of Europe ruined their voices trying to imitate him. For they ignored the natural three-register divisions of the voice, and thought they could accomplish with their average voices what is reserved only for phenomenal ones.

There are three registers; and the interrelations between these and the different voices within the male and female range must now be considered.



CHAPTER VIII

SUBDIVISIONS OF THE VOICE

It should be remembered that in the old days, from which traditions of phenomenally high voices have come down to us, musical pitch was lower than it is now. In those days a tenor, for example, could carry up his voice in the adjustment for the middle or in phenomenal cases even for the chest register, instead of changing to the head register, more easily than can be done now. In fact, nowadays, when a composer calls for a very high note, it usually is transposed, so that actually the supposedly high C of Di quella pira nearly always is a B flat. Probably there has been no general deterioration in voices, popular opinion to the contrary notwithstanding. Phenomenal voices always have been rare, and doubtless are no rarer now than at any other period. At any time any opera house would have been proud of two such tenors as Caruso and Bonci, or of two such sopranos as Melba and Tetrazzini, while there is no period in which a Sembrich would not have been a rara avis. The artist who, seemingly taught by nature, spontaneously employs the correct registers and sings the most difficult music with ease and accuracy, always has been an unusually gifted person—a vocal phenomenon, in fact.

The preceding chapter gave only the main divisions for male and female voices—alto and soprano for female and baritone and tenor for male. There are subdivisions of these. Contralto is a subdivision of alto, mezzo-soprano of soprano; and soprano itself may be dramatic or florid. Baritone is a division of bass; and tenor is either dramatic or lyric. Even when one of these subdivisions of voice is able to enter the range of another, it cannot do the same things with the same ease as the one which naturally belongs there. An alto of extraordinary range, like Schumann-Heink, may be able to achieve high soprano in the head register. It is a valuable accomplishment, insuring ease in singing of roles that lie in the balance between high alto and mezzo-soprano, but it does not make the singer a soprano. A dramatic soprano may be able to sing florid roles, but never with the success of the soprano whose natural gifts are of the florid order. A Wagner singer rarely succeeds in the traditional Italian roles, nor a singer of these in Wagner roles. Lilli Lehmann always insisted that Norma was one of her great roles, and craved the opportunity to sing it here. At last the opportunity came, but it is not on record that the public clamored for its repetition or ranked her Casta diva with her singing of Isolde's Liebestod. Melba, one of the most exquisite of florid sopranos, once attempted Bruennhilde in Siegfried. One performance, and her good judgment came to her rescue. It is to Sembrich's credit that she always has remained within her genre and for this reason never, so far as I know, has made a failure. The sign-post that stands at the entrance to the path leading to vocal success might read as follows: "Find out what your voice is, and remain strictly within it."

The voice which, because of its great range, best illustrates the three-register division of the vocal scale, is the soprano. The average soprano ranges from [Music: C4-A5]; but combining the three types of soprano voices, the soprano compass is as given in the previous chapter, the extremes being, of course, exceptional.

Among types of sopranos, the dramatic averages the greatest compass. The voice is heavier than florid soprano and incapable of being handled with the same agility. But it contains more low notes and almost as many high ones, unless in the latter respect one compares it with florid soprano voices of the phenomenal order. Otherwise, so far as the high notes are concerned, the difference lies in quality rather than in compass. The Inflammatus in Rossini's Stabat Mater, which is written for dramatic soprano, contains the high C, and no one who has heard Nordica sing it need be told of the noble effect a great dramatic soprano can produce with it.

It is possible to sing the three highest notes of the chest register of dramatic soprano with the adjustment for the middle register; and the higher notes of the middle register with the adjustment for the head register. This option is not merely a convenience. Its artistic value is great. In loud phrases those optional notes which naturally lie in the chest register are delivered most effectively in that register; but in piano phrases they are more effective when sung with the adjustment of the middle register. The same thing applies to those optional tones which naturally lie in the middle register. In loud phrases they are sung best in their natural register—the middle; in piano phrases, in the head register. These are two capital illustrations of the value of the overlapping of registers and the necessity of training a voice to be equally at home in both registers on all notes that are optional.

Theoretically, the florid soprano produces the three lowest notes of its range in the chest register; the notes from [Music: F4-F5] in the middle; and the notes above these in the head register. In practice, however, the small larynx and the limited cup space found in florid sopranos make it difficult if not impossible for them to adjust their vocal tracts to the chest register. The problem is met by bringing the head register as far down as possible into the middle; and by singing what theoretically should be chest tones in the middle register. It hardly need be pointed out that the lower notes of florid sopranos are weak. This accounts for it. Florid soprano, the voice of the head register, is a voice of extraordinary agility—the voice of vocal pyrotechnics. To achieve it Nature appears to have found it necessary to sacrifice the heavier middle and chest registers which make for dramatic expression; with dramatic sopranos, on the other hand, to sacrifice the muscular flexibility which makes for agility. Mezzo-soprano is a voice that lies within the compass of dramatic soprano, usually extending neither quite so low nor quite so high, but governed by the same laws.

For altos the ordinary compass is [Music: G3-C5]. A low alto or contralto is supposed to go down to the E below; while altos of unusual range go high as [Music: F5]. I even have seen the alto compass in notation run up to "high" C; but to control this high range an alto would have to be another Schumann-Heink who has cultivated upper notes in the head register. The tone-quality of some alto voices approaches so nearly that of the male voice, especially in the lowest tones of the chest register, that these altos are known as female baritones. In fact there is no voice in which register affects tone-quality as plainly as in alto. For in alto voices the chest register is apt to give tones that are heavy without corresponding vibrance and sonority, while tones produced in the adjustment of the head register are apt to be too thin. The middle register, however, produces in the alto voice a tone that is rich without being too heavy, so that it avoids undue heaviness on the one hand and on the other a thinness that is in no way comparable with the light tones of soprano, but simply a thin and unsatisfactory alto. Alto tone in the middle register therefore gives the standard tone-quality for alto voice; and when singing in chest or head register, an alto should endeavor to relieve the chest notes of their heaviness and the head notes of their thinness by giving them as much as she can the quality of tones in the middle register. This can be accomplished by bringing head tones down to middle and by carrying the middle register adjustment down into the chest register. But all this is as much a matter of correct ear and trained will power to make the voice reproduce the mental audition as it is of physical adjustment.

The great prizes of the operatic stage and concert hall go to the higher voices—to sopranos, for example, instead of to altos. Yet the proper training of an alto voice is a most difficult matter because, while the chest register is the natural singing register of alto, it produces too "big" a tone—a tone so big as to be heavy and unwieldy. The middle register in alto really is an assumed position, yet it is the register in which the standard alto tone is produced. Teachers who either are ignorant of these facts or disregard them are apt to carry up the cumbersome chest register until it meets the thin head register, producing a voice whose low notes are too heavy and tend toward the uncanny and by no means agreeable female baritone quality, while the higher notes are thin and undecided in character.

The male voice-range is the same as the female, save that it lies an octave lower; its mechanism is the same; and its registers are the result of identical physical functions. Thus, allowing for the octave difference, the tenor voice and the laws that govern it correspond for all practical purposes with soprano.

Tenors are lyric and dramatic, a distinction that explains itself. The lyric tenor is light and flexible. The dramatic tenor is a ringing, vibrant voice, especially on the high notes. Probably it is the splendor of these high notes that is responsible for the theory that they are produced by carrying the chest register upward. In point of fact, a genuine chest register rarely is employed by tenors. Their easiest, their natural singing range, is in the middle register, and the tones which in the notation of the tenor compass are assigned to the chest register, really are sung in what is more like a downward extension of the middle register. Just as the larynx of the soprano is not as large as that of the alto or contralto and is not capable of the open adjustment required by the chest register, so the larynx of the tenor is smaller than that of bass or baritone and, like the soprano, less capable of the open adjustment for chest register. The result is the same—a perceptible weakness on the lower notes, the great qualities of the voice lying in the middle and head registers, especially in the latter.

The lyric tenor is a lighter voice than the dramatic for the same reason that florid soprano is lighter than dramatic soprano. The cup space within the larynx is, comparatively speaking, small. Thus, while the head tones of the dramatic tenor are powerful and vibrant, the lyric tenor's head tones are lighter and more graceful, but are lacking in brilliant, resonant dramatic quality. A tenor like Jean de Reszke, who sang baritone for several years, must have a larynx somewhat larger than that of a genuine dramatic tenor, and his production of robust tenor notes in the head register must have required a most artistic series of adjustments of his voice tract throughout this entire register. But while it cannot be denied that Jean de Reszke was an artist in the truest sense of the term, it also cannot be denied that his high voice just lacked the true vibrant tenor quality and had a suspicion of baritone in it.

Some tenors who cannot sing unusually high in head register are able to acquire what is known as falsetto, and even tenors who are not obliged to resort to falsetto sometimes employ it for special effects. Falsetto is produced by carrying the adjustment for head register to its extreme limit. Practically it is the artificial reproduction within the throat of an adult of the small larynx before the period of mutation. In singing falsetto the false vocal cords drop down to within a quarter of an inch of the true cords and even closer, reducing the cup space in the larynx to its dimensions before mutation. To secure a good quality of tone in falsetto the singer must have complete control of the cup space—be able to diminish it not only by allowing the false cords to drop down almost upon the vocal cords, but also by contracting it laterally. If he can do this, he can produce some genuinely artistic effects in falsetto. When a tenor cannot control the muscles that contract the cup space, his falsetto will be of a poor quality—a mere "dodge" to add some higher notes to those of his legitimate vocal range.

There are singers whose control over the registers is so expert that, when they are called upon to follow a loud, singing, vibrant head tone with a pp effect on the same note, they can accomplish this by imperceptibly changing to falsetto. They can glide from head into falsetto and back again without a break and add the charm of varied tone-color to natural beauty of voice. This is especially true of dramatic tenors. If they can vary the naturally full and sonorous quality of their head tone with an artistic falsetto, they are able to secure many beautiful effects by an interchange of registers. Whenever the high tones of a lyric tenor sound thin, it is because high head tones do not lie naturally within the singer's range and he is obliged to substitute falsetto for them. "Baritone tenors" usually cannot achieve their higher notes in head register and are obliged to adopt falsetto, but as their voices are naturally fuller than those of the lyric tenor their falsetto is more agreeable.

Falsetto is a remnant of the voice before mutation, the male singer who can produce falsetto having such control over the larynx that he can contract the cup space until it reverts to its original boy size. This accounts for the peculiar quality of the male falsetto—its alloy of the feminine. Boys sing soprano or alto; and a man's voice must be naturally high and possess such a genuine tenor quality that nothing can rob it of its true timbre, to be effective in falsetto. This is why the average "baritone tenors"—singers who begin as baritones but whose voices lend themselves to being trained up—rarely are able to penetrate an ensemble with a clear, ringing high note of genuine tenor quality. A good tenor falsetto is in fact a reversion to boy-soprano with, however, the quality of adult high voice predominating to such a degree that it has the tenor timbre; and in proportion as the high notes of the male voice result from artificial training instead of from natural capacity, the boy-soprano timbre will creep in and weaken the tenor quality in falsetto. Some basses and low baritones can be trained to reach the high notes of the male vocal compass in falsetto, but as natural facility to produce these notes is lacking in such voices and their production is due wholly to artifice, the reversion to the boy quality of voice is so complete and it predominates to such a degree that these voices are known as male altos.

Falsetto usually is associated with tenors, but falsetto also can be employed by women, the results, as with men, depending on whether the voice is naturally a high one or not. I repeat that with voices which naturally are high, falsetto is not a "dodge," but a legitimate artistic effect. Furthermore, singers who in addition to control of the regular registers have control of falsetto, frequently find physical relief in passing from head to falsetto and back again.

Basses are of three different kinds. Basso profundo is the lowest bass; basso cantante is a flexible bass usually unable to sing quite as low as basso profundo; baritone is the highest bass—a voice midway between bass and tenor and partaking somewhat of the quality of both. The bass compass parallels that for contralto and alto at an interval of an octave and, in their use of the registers, basses and contraltos and baritones and altos have much in common. As with contralto, the natural singing register of basses is the chest register. The middle register is awkward to establish in bass voices, as the size of the larynx gives a large open cup space which is unsuited to the chest register. Therefore, with basses, when the capacity of the chest register is exhausted, it is best for the production of the notes above to make a complete change of adjustment to head register. Thus in bass the middle register practically is eliminated.

The high bass or baritone compass is from [Music: G2-F4]. It was seen that the question of registers with altos and contraltos was a complicated one, and similar complications exist with baritones. Some baritones can employ the middle register with ease, so that like certain contraltos they can sing in three registers—a rather weak chest register, middle and head (or falsetto) registers. The training of baritones is difficult, and should be determined by the tendency of the individual baritone voice—whether it inclines toward bass or toward tenor. For example, Jean de Reszke was at the beginning of his career the victim of faulty voice diagnosis. He was pronounced a baritone and trained for baritone roles, with the result that he suffered from an exaggerated condition of fatigue after every appearance. Later the probable tenor quality of his voice was discovered, and when it had been developed along physiological lines best suited to its real quality, undue fatigue after using it ceased.

The division of the vocal scale into registers is not an artifice. It is Nature's method of assisting vocalization, her way of relieving the strain of the voice. A certain portion of the vocal scale lies naturally in the chest register. But if this open adjustment is carried up too far, the tones are strained and eventually ruined. On the other hand if, at the proper point, the singer passes into the middle register, the strain is relieved; and the relief experienced is even greater when passing from middle into head, entirely releasing one set of muscles and calling an entirely new set into play.

The so-called "breaks" in the voice occur at points where one register passes into another; and it should be the aim of proper instruction in voice-culture to eliminate the breaks. They are due to the change in adjustment which each register calls for. The best method of "blending the registers"—of smoothing out the breaks—is to bring a higher register several tones down into the one below and thus bridge over the passage from one adjustment to another. To do this consciously would defeat its aim. It must be done in spontaneous response to the mental conception of the tone or phrase to be emitted. It must become second nature with the singer, a physiological adjustment in answer to a psychical concept—a detail, in fact one of the most important details, in that true physiology of voice-production which also takes psychical conditions into consideration.



CHAPTER IX

THE STROKE OF THE GLOTTIS

The coup de glotte, translated as "stroke of the glottis," refers to the manner in which a note should be attacked. This matter of attack already has been covered by inference many times in the course of this book. For, as the effectiveness of vocal attack depends upon the way in which the air-column strikes the vocal cords, it follows that the advice constantly given and in accordance with which the entire vocal tract of the singer should adjust itself as if by second nature to the tone that is to be produced, each time places the cords in the correct position to receive the stroke of the outgoing air. It does away with all danger of the "audible stroke" which occurs most frequently on the very open vowel-sounds, when the air reaches the glottis too late and is obliged to force its way through, the result being a disagreeable click; and it also obviates the defect from the opposite cause, when the air passes through the glottis too soon and results in an aspirated sound, an H before vowels, the voice, for example, emitting "Hi" for "I".

Mackenzie remarks on these points that the great object to be aimed at is that no air should be wasted or expended improvidently; that just the amount required for the particular effect in view must be used. Too strong a current tends to raise the pitch, a result which can be prevented only by extra tension of the vocal cords, which, of course, entails unnecessary strain. Again, the air may be sent up with such velocity that some of it leaks through before the glottis has time to intercept it; or with such violence as to force the lips of the chink a little too far apart. In either case so much motive power is thrown away and to that extent the brilliancy and fullness of the tone are lost. The coup de glotte, or exact correspondence between the arrival of the air at the larynx and the adjustment of the cords to receive it, is a point that cannot be too strongly insisted on.

"The regulation of the force of the blast which strikes against the vocal cords," says Mackenzie, "the placing of these in the most favorable position for the effect which it is desired to produce, and the direction of the vibrating column of air, are the three elements of artistic production. These elements must be thoroughly coordinated—that is to say, made virtually one act, which the pupil must strive by constant practice to make as far as possible automatic." Extend this admirably expressed paragraph to the entire vocal tract instead of limiting it simply to the vocal cords as Mackenzie does, and it covers the problem of attack. It is not only the vocal cords that should set for the tone at the moment the air-column strikes them, the entire vocal tract takes part in the adjustment that prepares for the attack. It is indeed, as Mills says, a case of complex and beautiful adaptation. Therefore, the term coup de glotte imperfectly expresses what the modern physiologist of voice means by attack. For coup de glotte conveys the idea of shock, hence creates an erroneous impression upon the mind of the singer. It is spontaneous adjustment, and neither shock nor even attack, that creates artistic tone.

"Voice and Song," by Joseph Smith, expresses very well the combined psychical and physical conditions that should prevail at this important moment. To be certain of a good attack, the student should first think the pitch, then, with all the parts concerned properly adjusted, start breath and tone simultaneously, striking the tone clearly and smartly right in the middle of its pitch. The book also describes the three faulty ways of attack: (1) the vocal cords approximate for the production of the tone after the breath has started, resulting in a disagreeable breathy attack; (2) the glottis closes so firmly that the attack is accomplished by an extraordinary explosive effect or click; (3) the vocal cords seek to adjust themselves to the pitch after the tone has started, and produce a horrible scoop in the attack. One of the worst faults in singing, the tremolo, is due to that unsteadiness of attack which results when the relationship between the breath and the laryngeal mechanism is not maintained—when the vocal tract has not been adjusted in time to the note the singer is aiming to produce.

Another writer who has a correct conception of what occurs at the important moment of attack is Louis Arthur Russell, who says that the musical quality of a tone is due, 1st, to its correct starting at the vocal cords; 2d, its proper placement or focus in the mouth after passing through the upper throat, etc.; 3d, its proper reinforcement through resonance and shape of the mouth cavities; and 4th, its support by the breath. While this seems to describe four successive adjustments, they are so nearly simultaneous as to be one. This is clearly recognized by Mr. Russell, who says further, that what he has described implies that the body has been put into condition and that everything is in order, alert, responsive and ready for the call of the will; that the whole body is in singing condition; that everything is in tune, and that the one tone wanted is all that can ensue. The last is especially well put. Everything has been made ready—psychically and physically—for the production of artistic voice, and nothing but artistic voice can result—no click, no aspiration, no tremolo, no wobble.

The vocal tone in its passage strikes against the walls of the vocal tract. That part of the tract upon which it last impinges before issuing from between the lips determines the placement of a tone. The singers should think of the tone as focussed upon the front of the hard palate—behind the upper front teeth at about the point where the roof of the mouth begins to curve down toward them. If the tone is placed further forward than this, its quality will be metallic; if too far back, throaty. To impinge the tone near the nasal passage gives it a nasal quality, a fault most common with the French, acquired probably through the necessity of singing certain French words—bien, for example—through the nose. When, however, the French speak of singing dans le masque, they should not be understood as implying that tone should be nasal in quality, but that it should be projected both through mouth and nose and not unduly through either. As a rule, nasal placement should be avoided by all but the most experienced singers, and even by them employed only sparingly and only for passing effects in tone-color.

The individual formation of the lips would seem to have much to do with their position in singing. Some singers advocate a lip formation that gives an opening like an O; others lay the O on its side like an ellipse. The former represents the lip position of Nordica, the latter of Sembrich—so that, as I have said, it is largely a matter to be determined by the individual. But the singer who uses the elliptical position must guard against exaggerating it, as it then results in the "white voice," another frequent fault of French singers.

After all, the final test of tone-production, tone-placing and position of the lips is the quality of the tone produced; and this is determined at first by the sensitive ear of the skilful teacher, and eventually by the trained mental audition of the pupil. The old Italian singing-teachers have been greatly praised because they are said to have reasoned from tone to method and not from method to tone. Those who praise them thus, usually intend their praise to be, incidently, a condemnation of anything like a scientific method of voice-production. In point of fact, however, the modern physiologist of voice-production is not an advocate of too fixed and rigid a method. He, too, proceeds from tone to method, and he goes even further for his tone than did the old Italian masters. For whereas they began with the tone as it issued from the singer's lips, the modern physiologist of voice-production begins with the singer's mental audition—with the tone as the singer conceives it and to which his vocal tract should automatically set or adjust itself even before the breath of phonation leaves the lungs.

With the beginner, the attack should first be performed on the easy singing notes of his voice; and although this book does not aim to be a singing-method, but rather a physiological basis for one, it may be said here that a, pronounced as in "ah" and preceded by l—that is to say, lae—makes an admirable vowel-sound and syllable on which to begin training the voice. The vowel-sound alone is too open. An absolutely pure tone can be produced upon it, but it will lack color. It will be a pure tone, but otherwise uninteresting. With the consonant added, it obtains color and gains interest. Voice is indebted in an amazing degree to the consonants. Sing the phrase "I love you," and put the emphasis on "you," which, for practical purposes, is a pure vowel-sound. The emotional vocal effect will not be nearly so great as when the emphasis is put on "love" in which the vowel o is colored by the consonant l.

This can be explained physiologically. All vowels primarily are made in the larynx by the vocal cords. The coup de glotte really is the process of vowel-making without the aid of consonants. This process of vowel-making is so smooth and open that a succession of legato vowel-sounds can be produced with only one stroke of the glottis, the vowel sounds flowing into each other, or each, seemingly, issuing from the other. Consonants are formed within the upper cavity of resonance, the mouth, some by the tongue alone, some by the combined action of tongue and lips. Voice-color being largely determined by the resonance-cavities, the articulation of consonants in the resonance-cavity of the mouth covers the open process of vowel-formation and gives color to the resultant word and tone. Thus, when "love" is sung, although l is not a strong consonant but one of a small group called subvocals, it is sufficient to cover and color the open o production.

The easy singing range of each individual voice usually is about identical with the pitch of its possessor's speaking voice. Training should begin with the highest tone of the easy singing range. The reason for this is that the higher tone requires a certain muscular tension which places the singer, so to speak, on the qui vive to the importance of the task before him; whereas the greater relaxation on the lower notes might cause him to regard the problem as too easy. At the same time the higher note, still lying within the easy singing range, does not call for a strain but simply acts as a spur.

Kofler gives six examples of easy singing ranges for as many voice-divisions, and adds to each the qualification "more or less," thus allowing for differences in individual voices. His easy singing ranges are as follows:

[Music:

Soprano: G4-E5 More or less

Mezzo-Soprano: E4-D5 " " "

Alto: D4-C5 " " "

Tenor: E3-E4 " " "

Baritone: C3-C4 " " "

Bass: A2-A3 " " "]

Reference having been made to vowels and consonants, it seems proper to add at this point something about diction in singing. The interpretation of a song is tone-production applied to the emotional significance of words. There seems little reason to doubt that the old Italian masters sacrificed many things, clarity of diction included, to beauty of tone. This they placed above everything. True, beauty of tone is the first essential of artistic singing, but it is not the only essential. If song is speech vitalized by music, then speech, the words to which music is set, has some claim to consideration. In fact, the singer's diction should convey the import of the spoken word with the added emotional eloquence of music.

Indeed, even some of the earliest Italians recognized this. Caccini, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, broke away from the contrapuntal music of the church because it made the words unintelligible. Tosi, who published a vocal method in 1723, a little less than a century and a quarter after Caccini's declaration, still insisted on the importance of clear diction. "Singers should not forget the fact," he wrote, "that it is the words which elevate them above instrumentalists." But with the introduction into Italian music of florid ornamentation, which of itself made the words more or less unintelligible, they lost their due importance, until, as many an old opera-goer still can testify, a tenor like Brignoli could, without protest, habitually allow himself the liberty of substituting "la" for the words on all high notes and phrases, simply because he found it easier to sing them on that syllable. At song recitals, the words of the songs often are printed on the programmes. Printed translations of words sung in foreign languages serve an obviously useful purpose. But when an English-speaking singer prints the words of English songs on his programme, it virtually is a confession that he does not expect his hearers to understand what he is singing to them in their own language—so rooted in singers has become the evil of indistinct pronunciation. Their songs are songs without words.

However, there has been an improvement in this respect. The old-time opera libretto was so stupid that Voltaire was justified in saying, "What is too stupid to be spoken is sung." But with Wagner the importance of making the words clear to the hearer was recognized, and since his works have established themselves in the repertory of the operatic stage, and modern opera composers, following in his footsteps, have striven to write music that would express the dramatic significance of the words to which it is composed, the art of libretto construction has greatly improved, and composers demand that the singer shall convey to his audience some idea of what is being sung.

Similar progress has been made in song-composing and song-interpretation. Just as the Italians formerly strove mainly for beautiful tone-production without much thought of the underlying word or phrase, so song-composers strove for beautiful melody—for music that was satisfying in itself, whether it suited the verbal phrase or not. Now, as in opera so in song, the relationship between words and music is recognized and the importance of combined verbal and musical phraseology is insisted upon. Formerly, interpretation was a matter of emotion only. Now, the intellectual process, the intelligence that discriminates, the thought that justifies the singer's emotional expression as that fitted to the words, are weighed in the balance. Consequently the word must be clearly pronounced by the singer. Vowel enunciation and consonant articulation—pronunciation being a combination of these two processes—must be distinct, or rather should be distinct, since there still is much fault to be found with singers in this respect.

Much has been said, especially by American singers, about English being a poor language for song. I think this is a survival of the time when song instruction in this country largely was in the hands of foreigners, mainly Italians. Naturally they preferred their own language, and naturally they failed to appreciate the genius of English. It is true, as Kofler says, that the Italian language presents few difficulties to the singer. In it, pure vowels predominate and consonants are in the minority, and even then many of these consonants are vocal, while the hard aspirates of other languages, especially German and English, are unknown to Italian lips. But that which is easier, by no means is always the most artistic. Ease rarely leads to depth. And this ease of pronunciation may account for a lack of dramatic grandeur and vigor in Italian and for the Italian's method of tonal emphasis and vehemence of gesture. "The German or the English artist has no need for such extravagances, because the immense richness of these languages—the great variety of vowels and the vigorous aspirated elements—gives to his utterance a dramatic freshness and force which are life and nature itself.

"The English language is probably the one that has been described by foreigners as the most unfit for singing. Greater calumny has never been uttered. I contend for just the opposite: That English is the very best language for an artistic singer to use, for it contains the greatest variety of vocal and aspirate elements, which afford an artistic singer the strongest, most natural and expressive means of dramatic reality. The English language has all the pure vowels and vocal consonants of the Italian; and, besides, it is full of rich elements, mixed vowels, diphthongs and an army of vigorous aspirates. I admit that it is not as easy for singing as Italian is; but just here its true merit and advantage arise. The difficulties thus forced upon the singer compel him to study deeply and perseveringly; but the treasures thus unearthed and placed within his reach will amply repay for hard work. My advice to American students is: Study your own language thoroughly, and practise its difficult articulation with the utmost fidelity. If once you find the application of its forces to dramatic expression, you will like it for singing as well as I do. But never forget that the appreciation of a science comes only from a thorough mastery of it."

The truth of the matter is, that each language has its own peculiar genius for song, and that a vocal composer unconsciously is under the influence of his native language. Italian music is as smooth as the Italian tongue; French music has the elegance of the French language; German the ruggedness of the German; and the music of English composers also partakes of the characteristics of the language. The highly trained modern singer should be a linguist as well as a vocalist. As for the amalgamation of the spoken word with the sung tone—that again is a matter of unconscious adjustment of the vocal tract; and, not to word and tone separately, but a single adjustment to what I may call "the word-tone."



CHAPTER X

HYGIENE OF THE VOICE

I should say that no one should be more scrupulous in his habits than the singer. It is more difficult to keep the keen edge of the voice in good repair than that of the sharpest razor, and nothing should be done to dull it. No one more than the singer requires to observe the moral and physical laws. The singer should always be in training, always in the pink of condition. By nature, women should be more subject to impairment of voice than men. But they are not. They are brought up to take better care of themselves and, to put it bluntly, to behave themselves better. As a result, in spite of recurring disorders, they stand up and do the work demanded of them when men do not or cannot.

Every pupil should be instructed to fall naturally into an attitude of attention when coming into the presence of the teacher—as much so as in the presence of a distinguished host or hostess. Morale, esprit de corps, cannot be instilled too soon. They may well be considered psychical elements in general vocal hygiene.

Personal cleanliness is, of course, one of the first requisites to health. But, while bathing should be regular, it should not be extreme. A cold bath stimulates at first, but is followed by a bad reaction in a few hours. A hot bath, followed by exposure to the open air or a draught, is apt to develop a cold by night. I recommend for singers a lukewarm bath.

When singers have had their hair cut, they should watch themselves carefully for the next twenty-four hours. If possible, they should have it cut shortly before going to bed and should protect the head with a light hood. Some singers catch cold every time they have their hair cut, and bald-headed singers always are catching cold. And while on this subject, it cannot be stated emphatically enough that any hair tonic that stimulates the scalp too much is bad. The glands in the scalp absorb the lead, cantharides, cayenne pepper, or whatever the specific poison in the tonic may be; this is carried to the respiratory tract, and creates the symptoms of a cold.

Singers are not apt to take much exercise. For this reason they should be careful in their diet. They should avoid beef, lamb and mutton. The white meat of fowl is the best meat diet for the vocalist. Milk, eggs, toasted bread, string beans, spinach, lettuce, rice and barley are excellent. Potatoes should be mashed, with milk and butter. Fruit is better taken stewed and with little sugar. Ice cream clears the voice for about twenty minutes, but the reaction is bad.

Regarding tea and coffee, inasmuch as a singer is not a cat on a back fence, but a human being, there is no reason why he should not be permitted to follow the social law in respect to these, provided he is not a sufferer from indigestion. In fact, there are times when a cup of coffee taken at the right moment will carry a singer, tired from travel or other cause, over a crisis. There can be no harm in a cup of coffee (Java and Mocha mixed), a cup of Phillip's Digestible cocoa, or a cup of tea (Oolong or Tetley's Ceylon) for the singer who is in good condition.

I always have held that a singer could drink a small quantity of alcohol—claret, for example—if he takes with it enough lithia or other alkaline water to counteract the acid in the wine. Smoking, however, is very injurious. A famous tenor of to-day whispered during a performance in the Metropolitan Opera House to the prima donna in the cast, "I smoked too many cigarettes yesterday; I feel it in my voice." Myron W. Whitney always left off smoking for two weeks before the Worcester Festival.

For travel the singer should be prepared for atmospheric changes as no one else in the world. He should be especially cautious at night. A singer who filled an engagement in Savannah started from there for the North at night. He had been in perfect voice. As the night was warm he left one of the windows of his berth open. At Washington he woke up with cold. It was snowing, and snow had come in through the open window on to his berth. His nose was "stuffed." He had no voice when he reached New York. This was due to the sudden intensification of all the things that belong to a cold. If he had worn a dressing-gown with a hood—not necessarily a heavy one—that would have saved him. A garment of that kind should be worn by singers at night when traveling. They can regulate the bed-covering accordingly, so as not to be too warm.

Clothing should give correct aeration for the season. Silk underclothing I regard as dangerous, because silk is a non-conductor. Good Lisle thread or flannel giving proper aeration is excellent. No one should be more careful about their clothing than New Yorkers, because of the sudden changes in temperature there. Stiff, high collars are injurious, because they are irritants to blood-vessels and nerves and are non-conductors. Collars should be worn from a quarter to half an inch away from the skin, for the less the Adam's apple—the highest forward point of the larynx—is irritated, the better.

There are certain periods of the year and even one special day when singers should especially look out for their voices. From January 15th-20th is the period of January thaw and of colds from melting snow. From March 19th-25th the earth is beginning to ferment and this is a period for spring fever and intestinal troubles, which indirectly affect the voice. May 9th usually is cold and rainy. The latter part of May and nearly all June, rose cold or June cold is prevalent. About August 1st come the dog days and hay fever. In fact, from August 1st until the autumnal equinox is an anxious time for the singer. From November 11th-25th there is apt to be alternate cold and warm weather conducive to asthma.

With the singer, more even than with any one else, the ounce of prevention is the pound of cure. The first sneeze should send the singer to his physician; and he also should realize—as only too few people do—that after a cold nature requires from a week to nine days to repair the damaged processes, and that he should not work too soon. Rest is a great cure.

One of the most distinguished French laryngologists, Dr. G. Poyet, was interviewed for the European edition of the N. Y. Herald on the subject of hygiene for the singer. Although what Dr. Poyet says on some points is a repetition of matters already gone over here, while other points will be more thoroughly gone into than was possible for him in the space at his command, a summary of what this clever man had to say on a subject of such importance to the singer will serve capitally the purpose of this chapter.

Dr. Poyet began by saying that, since the voice has intimate relationship with the entire organism, it follows that a well-understood hygiene should concern the totality of the functions. First of all, it is indispensable to avoid any cause of disturbance of the circulation, and particularly of the pulmonary functions.

"The singer, as much as possible, should inhabit sufficiently large apartments. He should avoid rooms warmed by apparatus which may produce carbonic acid or which remove from the air the watery vapor it contains normally. Every day on rising he should practise exercises in deep breathing and, if possible, some of the gymnastic exercises which it is possible to practise in a room. Walking is undoubtedly the best exercise, and every singer who is careful of the soundness of his lungs—which is equivalent to the soundness of his voice—should walk for an hour every morning before his repast." (This advice of Dr. Poyet can hardly be taken literally, and should be determined largely by the physique of the individual.)

In order to avoid colds, bronchitis, sore throat, catarrhal laryngitis, the singer should regulate in a fitting manner the thickness of his clothing in accordance with the prevailing temperature. If by misfortune he catches cold, a little laryngitis, a coryza, all of which cause hoarseness, he should immediately abstain from singing. Neglect of this rule may bring about the persistence of vocal accidents often very long in curing. It is because professional singers cannot interrupt their work in such cases that they more often than any others suffer from laryngitis and above all in the so dangerous form of chronic inflammation of the vocal cords, which determines the deplorable "singers' nodules."

The cutaneous secretions should be watched in persons who have need of a clear voice. Almost all catarrhal affections of the respiratory organs are due to chills. Advice is therefore given to every person who has practised violent singing-exercises, which cause perspiration, immediately to change his clothing after having been rubbed down with a horsehair glove or with flannel sprinkled with alcohol.