HEALTH, DIET, ETC.
Good health is essential to a singer, and it must be most carefully
preserved. To this end you should live as wholesome and regular an
existence as possible, seeing that you get plenty of fresh air and
taking such exercise as may be found convenient, but without overdoing
things in the latter respect, since undue muscular exertion is sometimes
prejudicial.
Moderation in diet is also advisable, avoiding especially all highly
seasoned dishes, pepper, pickles, and the like, and in the matter of
alcohol, if this be taken, confining one’s self to the lightest kinds of
wines.
As for smoking I prohibit it entirely, as I consider it to be the
greatest enemy of the vocal cords, although I am well aware, of course,
that some of the most famous singers have been inveterate smokers.
Of Mario, for instance, we are told that he was never seen without a
cigar in his mouth except when he was eating. He smoked, it is recorded,
even in his bath, although it may be noted that even he expressly
avoided cigarettes, confining himself exclusively to cigars.
Caruso, again, was another tremendous smoker, and I suppose there are
few male vocalists, at any rate, who deny themselves in this respect
entirely. But I have no doubt that it would be better for their vocal
organs if they did so all the same.
Coughs and colds are, of course, the greatest bugbear of the singer, and
to assist in securing immunity from these do not allow your throat to
become too sensitive by wrapping up too much. Bathing the throat with
cold water helps also towards this end. When overheated and perspiring
never delay changing into dry clothes and be especially careful always
to keep the feet dry.
Yet with all the precautions in the world the time will come when
concerts or performances must be given under unfavourable conditions,
and in these circumstances the art and the courage of the singer alone
will carry her through.
Often I have undertaken a concert rather than disappoint the public when
suffering from a bad cold. But I have been able by will power to do
wonders in these circumstances, and more often than not I have been
rewarded by a Press which said that I had never sung better.
I have known Caruso, under such circumstances, the morning before a
widely advertised concert, at which an audience of perhaps 10,000 people
was likely to be present, to wake up and find himself entirely without
voice.
In the instance I have in mind he telegraphed for a celebrated throat
specialist in New York to come immediately to Pittsburg, where just
previous to the concert he underwent heroic treatment. This meant the
administering of a stimulant to the vocal cords which contracted them
for a period of a few hours.
Thereby he was enabled to fulfil his engagement, though the
after-results put him out of action for at least a week.
A singer cannot hope always to be absolutely at his best, and this fact
should be realised from the first by young artists. Frequently, prior to
a performance, if the artist cannot bring off certain customary effects
he, or she, will be thrown immediately into a state of distraction and
despair. This, however, is all wrong.
Engagements must be kept, and more often than not, as I have suggested,
the artist will find when the time comes that his apprehension has been
quite uncalled for. Strung up by the needs of the case, and making a
special call upon all his resources, mental and emotional as well as
merely vocal, he will very likely do even better than usual.
He should bear this in mind, therefore, another time, and never lose his
head even though he may think that he has lost his voice!
At the same time this is not to say that really serious voice trouble
should be ignored, and I myself make it a practice in every large town
where I am accustomed to stay for any length of time to learn of a
suitable medical man or voice specialist to whom I can repair for advice
in case of need.
As to one’s régime on the day when one is actually singing this merits a
few words perhaps. Having gone to bed betimes the day before, so as to
secure a long night of unbroken rest, I myself do not usually rise until
about ten or eleven, when I have a light breakfast of tea and toast and
soft-boiled eggs. For lunch, if one may call it such, after a short
walk, I have merely a cup of cocoa and a little fruit, and nothing more
until after the concert. Most other artists of my acquaintance do
likewise.