The Relation of Technique to Rendering.
It is certainly true that the highest use of the voice is the revelation
of the soul. The most important and effective means of cultivation lie in
the exercise of the voice under such mental conditions as shall invite the
expression of the highest thoughts, but the voice is in one sense an
instrument which is capable of being attuned. Right technical study and
practice adjust the instrument in proper relations with the natural laws
of its use, and establish, or deepen, the tendency to obey those laws.
Hence the mind finds a more ready response in the instrument, and one is
able to express with greater facility all that the soul desires to reveal.
It would seem of little consequence that a person should be able to use
the voice well simply as an ornamental accomplishment; for these agents of
expression, these powers of the material being, have a higher significance
than the mere exhibition of any qualities, however admirable. Such a
motive in studying expression would be a very shallow one, for what would
it signify in comparison with the great purposes of living?
But so long as these instruments of ours do not serve us they are a
hindrance to the higher expression of our being and the accomplishment of
our highest mission to others. We do indeed desire to escape from the
material and transient into the world of eternal verities, but these
conditions are given us for a purpose. They have their use, and we cannot
escape from the imprisonment in which we find ourselves until we have
solved their meaning and conquered them for the service of the higher
mind. We therefore study, not for the attainment of particular feats, but
to secure the obedience of all our activities to the higher laws through
which they can fulfil the purpose for which they were created.
This harmonizing of the forces having been once accomplished, little time
is required to keep in tune this harp of the soul; while the broader
culture and the higher realization of all meanings that can be expressed
are constantly sought in such discipline of the mind itself as shall
secure the activity of its highest powers. The whole aim is to secure the
development of character by the expression of the highest elements of
character.
Although the voice, like all other agents of expression, is naturally the
reflector of the individual and his states, it is necessary to understand
what that statement implies in order to appreciate the great need for the
higher culture of the vocal organism. If the individual's condition were
attuned to perfect harmony, to perfect unity of action, and to singleness
of purpose, together with the habit of personal expression rather than
expression through some limited mode of action--if, indeed, this were so,
his voice would scarce need training,--certainly not corrective
training,--nor would he need "culture" of any kind, being already a
perfect human being.
Those who postulate the "perfectly natural" voice, _i.e._, one that
is unconscious of its own art, either presuppose this condition of innate
perfection or assume that the simple wish to speak--and its exercise--will
be sufficient to overcome wrong habits and conditions. Will it? Let us
see.
The culture of expression is a very different thing from the artful
imitation of the signs of feeling and purpose. If we are to have a real
education along lines of expression we must begin with the "content," or
cause, of expression. We may for the moment postpone discussion as to the
relative power of the sign to evoke the feeling, and the power of the
feeling or condition to evolve the most effective sign. There is something
to be said upon both sides; and, surely, the truth lies in the adoption of
all good means to produce the desired end.
First, then, to the basis. All oratorical values are measured primarily
from the standpoint of the "what;" the "how" is important, too, but only
in its relation to the "what" and "wherefore." The voice of the orator
must be an influence--a sincere vibration of the motive within.
Theoretically it is so naturally, but practically it is so only when the
voice is free from bias and is responsive through habit or spontaneous
inspiration to the thought of the speaker.
We will admit that genius sometimes is great enough to bring into
harmonious action all powers of the individual under its sway; but
education mainly strives to unfold the imperfect, to balance, the
ununified elements. Even genius, however, needs direction and adjustment
to secure the most perfect and reliable results. How, then, shall we
develop the motive, how enlarge the content?
There is such a subtle relation between motive and action that it has been
said, "The effect of any action is measured by the depth of the motive
from which it proceeds." [Footnote: Ralph Waldo Emerson.] And so this is
why the clever performer cannot reproduce the effect of a speech of
Demosthenes or Daniel Webster. This is a reason aside from that arising
from the difference in the occasion. Great men and great artists
_make_ the occasion in the hearts of their hearers. The voice of the
orator peculiarly should be free from studied effects, and responsive to
motive. It is not the voice of entertainment, but of influence above all.
The orator should be taught self-mastery. The orator who is not moved by
high moral sense is a trickster or a hypocrite; the former juggles with
human susceptibility for unworthy or inadequate ends, and the latter poses
for motives he has not. So complex is human nature that this can be done
by a good actor so as to deceive the judgment and feelings; but the
influence will ultimately reveal the truth, if the auditor will use
intuition and not be taken off guard by the psychic influence of a strong
will bent on a given effect.
The sincere endeavor to express a quality, with the aspiration to make it
real, has the tendency to focus the power of that quality and concentrate
the mind upon it. This, by repetition of effort, both increases the power
and facilitates its expression. One must come to think vividly in terms of
expression. In the instance before us it should be in terms of vocal
expression. Anything well expressed--unconsciously--is to real art what
innocence is to virtue, or what the spontaneous grace of a child is to
that grace as applied to forms definitely intended to communicate an ideal
to others. Self-consciousness must precede super-self-consciousness.
Unconsciousness is childishness in art, and leads to vagueness of meaning,
to the perpetuation of personal idiosyncrasies; and while a larger
consciousness may be induced from the mind side, positive and overwhelming
inspiration will be needed to overcome habitual limitations. A musician
must love music itself, as well as its meanings, and a voice cannot be
made the best of by one who does not love its music. Self-consciousness
represents the stage of work and endeavor where faults are being overcome,
power enlarged, and new forms of activity mastered. This may be at first a
hindrance to spontaneity, and seem to hamper the imagination; but as
facility is acquired joy comes back, and the joy of conquest with the
adustment of means to ends is a stage of self-consciousness dangerous for
the egotist, but is inspiration and incitement to larger effort. This is a
stage where many artists remain--most of the time. But the super-conscious
stage is that state in which with perfected facility and power of
self-mastery the doing becomes lost in supreme realization; and right
action, now become habitual, is forgotten in the full consciousness of
oneness with the ideal. Then the voice--or the artist--embodies the ideal,
becomes the part for the time being, and is, as we say, inspired.
We may forget what we are doing, but we must be able to know, or there
will be nothing worth while to forget! The danger of the mechanical
idea--the extreme technician's notion that the sign is enough--is that the
person may become an automaton and inhibit the power of real feeling in
himself; and though he may perform admirably and win the applause of some
critics who love form unduly, he fails in the great issue and wins only
superficial success or fails utterly, without seeing why. The real
experience has a magnetism of its own and will win above mere technicality
whenever it has the opportunity.
Some believe that psychic response to the sign is desirable. This develops
merely sensitiveness, reflex action, and does not enlarge the power of
feeling nor encourage the motive and the real heart. The desirability of
emotional response quickly reaches its limit; and while it may be feeling,
it does not spring from an adequate cause, so has not the dignity and
sweep of absolute sincerity. We must have _motif_ first, then
technique to adapt and adjust expression and to develop facility in the
active agents. We want the Real, idealized by Art, and the Ideal, made
real and tangible by Art, the Revealer!
The process we would follow, then, is, primarily, the training of the
imagination to conceive fuller and fuller ideals of music and meaning;
and, simultaneously, the exercise of such activities as shall increase the
capacity of vocal expression and the availability of the vocal powers.
Availability is of the utmost importance! Concentration is the prime
requisite in attaining rapid results. The student must concentrate
absolutely upon the various qualities sought, and must infuse intelligent
impulse into his every nerve and muscle! The vibrant voice of the spirit
cannot be evoked by half-hearted effort, lazy nerves and muscles, nor with
the drag of inattention. The student who does not intend to arouse himself
need hope for no keen sense of beauty.
The voice is, first of all, a messenger of spirit, and illustrates this in
that quality which has given rise to the expression "borne on the wings of
song." Ultimately the whole body will be conceived to be a sensitive
vibrator responding with dramatic sympathy and returning vital radiance to
the tones. The rightly cultivated expressive voice is the man--speaking.