The Choice Of A Teacher
Further observations of a general character may be allowed to precede
a more detailed consideration of method.
Some people wonder why a person who is gifted with voice simply can't
get up and sing without any instruction. The reason is that voice is an
instrument; a natural, human instrument, it is true, yet one in the use
of which the fortunate possessor requires practice and training. The
purpose of a s
nging-method is to produce a perfect coordination of all
parts of the human voice-producing mechanism, an apparatus which is by
no means simple but, in fact, rather intricate and complicated. It will
be found, for example, that such a natural function of life as breathing
has to be especially adapted to the requirements of the singing voice;
that breathing such as suffices for the average person will not suffice
for correct voice-production. Again, in every voice certain notes are
better than others, and a correct method of voice-production, while
it may not be able to make every note in the range of voice of equal
quality, brings the whole voice up to a more even standard of excellence.
It leaves the best notes as good as ever and brings the notes which
naturally are not so satisfactory, nearer the standard of the best. The
great singers, in addition to natural aptitude, remain students
throughout their careers.
There are certain fundamental principles in a correct method of
voice-production, for it is based upon study and knowledge of the organs
concerned therein. But if the method were a hard-and-fast one, it would
not be correct. For there are so many individual differences, physical
and temperamental, between pupils, that there must be elasticity and
adaptability in a method that claims to produce the best results.
Knowledge and experience should be combined in a teacher. Garcia wrote
a voice-manual; and Tosi published a method as far back as 1723. But a
teacher who has bought a translation of the "Traite complet de l'Art de
Chant" by no means is a second Garcia, nor has a teacher who chances
to have read Tosi's book a right to set himself up as an instructor of
singing after the old Italian method. The old Italians, like Tosi and
Porpora, were men of great practical experience in teaching, and they
understood how to adapt method to individual needs. Consciously or
unconsciously, their method was physiological--the fundamental
principles of the physiology of voice-production were there; but these
great teachers knew that individual differences had to be allowed for
and that a singing-method is not a shoemaker's last.
Sometimes, indeed, it is the pupil who makes the master. One of those
born singers, man or woman, whom Nature has endowed with superlative
gifts and whom some unknown yet meritorious teacher, perhaps in America,
has started aright, goes abroad and, after a while, comes forth, not
made, but fortunately not marred, from a foreign vocal studio and
enters upon a great career--and the foreign teacher's fame becomes
international. The real foundation for that career may have been laid
in an American city. But ambitious young Americans, instead of seeking
out that teacher, will flock to the foreign one.
In such matters we are the most gullible people on the face of the
earth. An Italian, now dead, but in his day the most high-priced
singing-teacher in London, used to devote the greater part of his lesson
periods to telling his pupils how fond certain members of the English
Royal family were of him and to pointing out the souvenirs of their
favor which he had displayed in his studio. Yet, doubtless, his pupils
thought that, all the while they were listening to his chatter, they
were taking lessons in voice-production! Americans dearly love a foreign
name, and especially an Italian one, when it comes to selecting a
singing-teacher. But all is not gold that glitters, and the fact that
a teacher writes "Signor" before his name does not necessarily signify
that he is Italian, but often only that he would like people to believe
he is, because there is a foolish belief that every Italian teaches the
old Italian method. The famous Mme. Marchesi, in spite of her name, is
not Italian. She acquired it by marriage to Salvatore Marchesi, an
Italian baritone. Before that she was Fraeulein Mathilde Graumann, a
concert singer of Frankfort-on-the-Main; and sometimes I wonder whether,
if she had remained Fraeulein Mathilde Graumann, she ever would have
become the famous teacher she is. But Marchesi she is, and famous; and
I do not doubt justly so. Yet even the pupils of so famous a teacher
differ regarding the value of her method. Thus Melba never fails to sing
her praises. On the other hand, Emma Eames, knowing that she was
speaking for publication and that a stenographer was taking down her
words, said: "Mme. Marchesi is a thoroughly good musician. Any one who
goes to her with an established voice can learn a great deal from her
in the interpretation of many roles. She is an admirable teacher of
expression and of the general conception of a character. As a drillmaster
she is altogether admirable. She teaches you the value of utilizing your
time, and she makes you take a serious view of your work, which is
important, for hardly an American girl who goes to her has an idea of
studying seriously. She also is capital at languages. But when it comes
to voice-development, I consider that she fails. My voice naturally was
broad and heavy. After the end of the first two years' study with her
I could not sing A without difficulty. She did not seem to know how
to make my voice light. It was getting heavier and less flexible all
the time."
Some years ago Mme. Marchesi's daughter, Mme. Blanche Marchesi, appeared
on the concert stage in New York. As the daughter and pupil from
childhood of her famous mother, she was supposed to be an ideal exponent
of the Marchesi method. Professional singers and instructors flocked to
her first concert. It was to be an experience, an object-lesson. Well--it
was. They saw a fine-looking woman with a mediocre voice and a worse
method, a method so hopelessly bad that even her undoubted musicianship
could not atone for it.
All this goes to prove that a method, to be elastic and adaptable,
should be based on a knowledge of the physiology of the voice-producing
organs, for such a method naturally adapts itself to physical
differences in different individuals. Without doubt Mme. Marchesi's
method was admirably adapted to Melba, but not to Eames or to her own
daughter.
Bear these circumstances in mind in selecting a teacher. The great
singers are not always safe guides in the choice of a teacher, because
their own superlative gifts and willingness to slave for the object of
their ambition may have been as important factors in their success as
the instruction they received. Probably a singer of only fair natural
gifts who yet has made a success--which shows that he must have been
well taught--can give better advice as to the choice of an instructor
than the great artist who owes so much to himself. Moreover, great
artists who have studied with the same teacher will, like Melba and
Eames, differ in their estimate of that teacher.
There is, however, one great singer, Lillian Nordica, who knows to whom
to give credit for that skill in voice-production which enables her to
sing Valentine, Aida and Isolde with equal success. The foundation for
her career was laid in this country. Afterward she studied with Mme.
Maretzek and in Milan with San Giovanni, but only interpretation. Her
voice-production she acquired not from Madame this or Signor that, but
from plain John O'Neill, of Boston, "a scholarly man who had made a
profound study of the physiology of the voice," and she took good care
not to allow any other teacher, however "famous," to undo the work of
the man who had taught her voice-production based on correct knowledge
of the physiology of the voice-producing organs.
This matter of choosing a teacher is, of course, of the greatest
importance, but it barely can be touched on in this book. The selection
should be made most cautiously, but, once made, the pupil's parents
should not go to the teacher a few weeks later and ask, "Why don't you
give Clara some 'pieces'?" They should recall the story of Porpora and
Caffarelli which I related in the previous chapter. "Pieces" are not in
order until the voice is prepared for them, and the teacher is the best
judge of that. A voice trained on "pieces" soon goes to pieces.
Another mistaken idea is that "any teacher is good enough for a
beginner," whereas the beginning is the very time that the foundation
of right method or wrong method is laid. Classifying the voice is, of
itself, of great importance. Remember that Jean de Reszke's first
teacher thought he was a baritone and that he sang as a baritone in
opera for five years before a more competent teacher discovered that he
was really a tenor. Some voices are so near the dividing line that it
requires wide experience and a fine ear for quality on the part of a
teacher to determine in what direction they should be developed to
greatest advantage. A fine ear may determine that the seeming mezzo is
a true soprano, that the notes of the pupil who comes as a baritone have
the tenor quality and that his scale safely can be added to, while the
would-be tenor has the baritone timbre which will prevent his notes from
ever ringing out with the true tenor quality. Yes, this initial task of
voice classification is far too important to be entrusted to "any
teacher."
There are piano-thumping teachers of voice, who not having voices
themselves are obliged to give their pupils the pitch of each note by
pounding it out on the pianoforte. Voice quality has nothing in common
with pianoforte quality of tone, yet constant thumping of the pianoforte
by a singing-teacher in order to give the pupil the pitch, is apt to
mix pianoforte color into a pupil's voice and mar its translucent vocal
quality. A teacher need not be a fine singer--few vocal teachers
are--but, at least, he should be able to give pitch vocally and to
suggest with sufficient definition the quality of tone the pupil is
to produce.
At what age should singing-lessons begin? Some say the earlier the
better. Others hold that, under no circumstances, should a boy or girl
be taught to sing before the age of puberty, before the voice has
mutated. Those who believe that singing can be taught in childhood and
safely continued even during the critical period of mutation, point out
that the muscles of the voice-producing organs are most flexible and
adapt themselves most easily to the task in hand during childhood and
that the process of training them had best begin then, and that, with
proper care, the lessons can be continued during the period of
mutation.
My own opinion is that this period is so critical and proper care is
so apt not to be taken, that the safest rule is not to begin
singing-lessons until the adult voice undisputably has arrived. So many
voices have been ruined by lack of care during mutation that it is
better no risk should be taken. But why not, it may be asked, have the
child taught and, when the period of mutation arrives, have the lessons
suspended? There would be no harm in this, excepting that here again is
run the risk that proper care will not be taken to stop soon enough and
that the career of a possibly fine singer may be ruined. It has happened
again and again that voices have been lost irretrievably or impaired
permanently by careless use of them during the change from youth to
manhood. Therefore, and also because the muscles remain limber and
flexible in young people for some years after they have arrived at
puberty, I advise that singing-lessons should not begin until the period
of mutation is well over. Sir Morell Mackenzie, after stating that the
doctrine long has been held universally that not only should systematic
training be interrupted, but singing altogether forbidden during that
critical period, nevertheless maintained that "if due care is
exercised there is no reason why the voice should not be used in
singing during the transition period: but the training must be carried
out within certain limits and under strict supervision by a competent
person." But there is so much risk that due care will not be exercised,
that those "certain limits" will be overstepped, that the "strict
supervision" will be relaxed or not exercised by a "competent person,"
that I strongly advise not to begin lessons until the period of change
is over.
In this view I am supported by Garcia, who took sharp issue with
Mackenzie. "My father," wrote Garcia, "went through the transition time
without ceasing to sing, and without having done himself the least harm.
But both my sisters, Mesdames Malibran and Viardot, were obliged to wait
a year. I continued to sing, and my voice was ruined!" Continuing,
Garcia says that the old rule which has preserved so many voices--that
singing should cease altogether during mutation--should not be thrust
aside on account of some rare exceptions, and young singers be handed
over to the "doubtful caprice of ignorant or careless teachers." A
person might with "due care" and "strict supervision" live in a
plague-stricken city without contracting the disease, but one would not
recommend his going there for his health. Why deliberately expose the
voice to danger of loss or permanent impairment by advising that it
can be used with safety during the period of transition? Far better
to be on the safe side, wait until manhood or womanhood is definitely
established, and then begin lessons as soon as possible.