The Method.
I have shown Delsarte as a composer, as pre-eminently an artist, who, as
a certain critic says, "was never surpassed;" I have insisted upon the
two titles which form his special glory: that of revealer of the laws of
æsthetics, and that of creator of a science to support his discoveries;
a science whose application relates particularly to the dramatic and
lyric arts, although at its base, and especially when considered as law,
it embraces all the liberal arts.
It remains for me to speak of his method, properly so called; of his
precepts, his maxims, his opinions and his judgments; of that, in a
word, which constitutes the personal manner of each master, and his mode
of instruction; for if the law is single in its essential and
constitutive ideas, it radiates into diversity in its individual
manifestations; _it has infinite possibilities_.
Delsarte considered art as the surest, purest and most constant good in
life. He required much time to complete the education of a pupil,
because he knew how long it had taken him to master the methods of
translating, through that noble interpreter, art, the best and most
sublime possibilities of the human soul; and because he knew as well all
that is inherent in our nature of vice and imperfection. He held that
the truth, be it good or bad, is always instructive.
In regard to truth he says: "A man may possess remarkable qualities, may
have grace, expression, charm and elegance, but they are all as nothing
if he does not interpret the truth." He desired the artist to study
beauty in every form, to seek and discover its secrets. He tells us that
he himself studied the poses of the statues of antiquity for fifteen
years.
It was in consequence of this period of study, assuredly, that the
master condemned the parallel movement of the limbs in gesture, and
recommended attitudes which he called _inverse_; if, for instance, the
actor leans on his left leg, the corresponding gesture must necessarily
be entrusted to the right arm.
The master taught that the gesture--the true interpreter of the
sentiment--should precede the word. He added: "The word is but an echo,
the thought made external and visible, the ambassador of intelligence.
Every energetic passion, every deep sentiment, is accordingly announced
by a sign of the head, the hand or the eye, before the word expresses
it." Thus, the actor and the orator, if they do not conform to this
precept, have failed to attain to art.
Delsarte proves his assertion by giving examples, somewhat overdrawn, in
a sense the inverse of this theory. Nothing was more amusing than to
see him execute one of these _dilatory_ gestures; for instance, this
phrase, uttered by the lackey of some comedy, delivering a message:
"Sir, here is a letter which I was told to deliver to you at once." The
hand extending the note unseasonably, produced so ridiculous an effect
that the heartiest laughter never failed to follow.
_On Ellipsis._
The preceding steps lead us to ellipsis, which plays an important part
in the method of Delsarte.
All the thoughts and sentiments contained in literature, in one
comprehensive word, are entrusted to the mimic art of the actor, whose
essential agent is gesture. The _conjunction_ and _interjection_ are
alike elliptical; thus in the phrase: "Ah! * * how unhappy I am! * *"
"Ah!" should imply a painful situation before the explanatory phrase
begins. In his _course of applied æsthetics_, Delsarte gives us the
striking effects of the elliptic conjunction.
_On Shades and Inflections._
The shade, that exquisite portion of art, which is rather felt than
expressed, is the characteristic sign of the perfection of talent; it
forms a part of the personality of the artist. You may have heard a play
twenty times with indifference, or a melody as often, only to be bored
by it; some fine day a great actor relieves the drama of its chill, its
apparent nullity; the commonplace melody takes to itself wings beneath
the magic of a well-trained, expressive and sympathetic voice. Delsarte
possessed this artistic talent to a supreme degree, and it was one of
the remarkable parts of his instruction; he had established typical
phrases, where the mere shade of inflection gave an appropriate meaning
to every variety of impression and sentiment which can possibly be
expressed by any one set of words. One of these phrases was this: "That
is a pretty dog!"
A very talented young girl succeeded in giving to these words a great
number of different modulations, expressing endearment, coaxing,
admiration, ironical praise, pity and affection. Delsarte, with his
far-reaching comprehension, conceived of more than 600 ways of
differentiating these examples; but he stopped midway in the execution
of them, and certainly no one else will ever pursue this outline to its
farthest limits.
The second phrase was: "I did not tell you that I would not!"
This time the words were given as a study for adults; they lent
themselves to other sentiments; they revealed, as the case might be,
indifference, reproach, encouragement, the hesitation of a troubled
soul, etc.
It was by means of these manifold shades that the artist-professor
established characteristic differences in parts wherein so many actors
had seen but the identical fact of a similar passion or a similar vice.
To his mind, all misers were not the same miser, nor all seducers the
same seducer. In singing particularly, with what art Delsarte used the
inflection!
_On Vocal Music._
In regard to lyric art especially, Delsarte had his peculiar and
personal theories. Singing was not to him merely a means of displaying
the singer's voice or person; it was a superior language, charged with
the rendition, in its individual charm, of all the greatest creations of
literature and poetry; all the sweet, tender, or cruel sentiments
possible to humanity.
This exceptional singer attained his effects partly by means of certain
modifications of the rhythm, which caused inattentive critics to say:
"Delsarte does not observe the measure." What they themselves failed to
note, was that the first beat was always given firmly; and that it was
in the divisions of one measure, and by subtle compensations, that he
made the difference. Far from having cause for complaint, the composer
gained thereby, a more clear expression of his thought, a more
persuasive expansion of his sentiment, and the respiration appeared more
easy. It was something similar--with a greater value--to that personal
punctuation with which skilful readers often divide the text which they
translate.
It was particularly in recitative, the style, moreover, least subject to
precise laws, that Delsarte used this license; and it was in this style
that he especially excelled.
And is it not in what remains unwritten that the singer's true greatness
is revealed? What dilettante has not felt the power of a more incisive
attack of the note; of that prolongation of the note, held
imperceptibly, which, having captured it, holds the attention of the
listener?
But, to hear these things, it is not necessary, as the saying is, "to
bestride _technique_." In so far as the training of the voice is
concerned, Delsarte gave himself a scientific basis. He was the first to
think that it would be well to know the mechanism of the organ, that it
might be used to the best advantage, both by avoiding injurious methods
of exercising it, and by aiding the development of the tone by
appropriate work.
In his rooms were to be seen imitations of the larynx--in pasteboard--of
various sizes. His pupils, it seems to me, could profit but little by
these far from pleasing sights. At the utmost it increased their
confidence in the man who desired an intimate acquaintance with
everything relating to the art which he taught. It is to teachers
particularly that the introduction of this auxiliary into the study of
the vocal mechanism may have been of some value. I have lately learned
that several singing teachers use these artificial larynxes. Can
priority be claimed for Delsarte? I can only affirm that he refers to
them in a treatise signed by himself, and dated in the year 1831.
I shall not enter into the details of this contingent side of the
method; the statement of the facts is enough to lead all those who are
interested, to devote thought and study to the matter. I prefer to dwell
upon the things which Delsarte carried with him into the grave, having
written them only on the memories of certain adepts destined to
disappear soon after him.
_On Respiration._
Delsarte established his theory of _diaphragmatic breathing_ in
accordance with his anatomical knowledge. It consists in restoring the
breath, without effort, from the commencing lift of the diaphragm to the
production of the tone. He opposed it to the _costal breathing_, which
brings the lungs suddenly into action by movements of the chest and
shoulders, and causes extreme fatigue. "The chest," he says, "should be
a passive agent; the larynx and mouth, aiding the diaphragm, alone have
a right to act in breathing; the action of the larynx consists of a
depression, that of the mouth should produce the canalization
(concavity) of the tongue and the elevation of the veil of the palate."
To this first idea is attached what the master taught in regard to the
distinction between _vital breath_ and _artificial breath_. It is
certain that one may sing with the natural respiration; but it is
rapidly exhausted if not augmented by additional inhalation; for it
results in dryness and breathlessness, which cause suffering alike to
singer and listener. The _artificial breath_, on the contrary, preserves
the ease and freshness of the voice.
_On the Position of the Tone._
The placing of the tone was one of Delsarte's great anxieties. According
to his theory, the attack should be produced _by explosion_. He rejected
that stress which induces the squeezing out of the tone after it is
produced. The way to avoid it is to prepare rapidly and in anticipation
of the emission of the note.
These ideas demand oral elucidation; but it is enough to declare them,
for teachers and singers to recognize their meaning.
_On the Preparation of the Initial Consonant._
The preceding lines refer to vocalization; but Delsarte applied the same
process to pronunciation. He directed that the _initial consonant_
should be prepared in the same way as the attack on the tone; it was
thus produced distinctly and powerfully, that is, in less appreciable
_extent of time_. Such is the concentration of the archer preparing to
launch an arrow; of the runner about to leap a ditch. The master, in no
case permitted that annoying compass of the voice before a consonant, so
frequently employed by ordinary singers. The Italians justly translate
this disagreeable performance by the word _strascinato_ (dragged out or
prolonged).
_Exercises._
Delsarte has been severely blamed for the way in which he trained the
voice. I have nothing to say in regard to those who imputed to him
physical and barbarous methods of developing it; but it may be true that
he endangered it by certain exercises or by failure to cultivate the
mechanism. I do not feel myself competent to pronounce upon this
technical point, but I can give an exact account of what was done in his
school.
Delsarte directed that the tones should be swelled on a single note, E
flat (of the medium); he claimed that by strengthening this intermediary
note the ascending and descending scales were sympathetically
strengthened. He thus avoided, as he said, breaking the high treble
notes by exercises which would render the cords too severely tense,
convinced morever, that at a given moment a burst of enthusiasm and
will-power would take the place of assiduous practice.
He also taught that this special exercise of the medium would prevent
the separation of the registers, that phylloxera of the vocal organ,
which wrecks so many singers, and causes them so many sorrows. This was
the way to gain that mixed voice, the ideal held up to the scholars as
being the most impressive and the most exquisite; that which at the
same time ravished the ear and charmed the heart.
This master considered the chest-voice as more particularly physical;
and the head-voice, it must be confessed, is too much like the voice of
a bird, to awaken sentiment and sympathy.
Delsarte himself possessed this mixed voice; in him, it seemed to start
from the heart, and brought tears to eyes which had never known them.
The power of that tone--allied to the perfection of shading, diction and
lyric declamation--caused every listening soul to vibrate with latent
emotion which might never have been waked to life save by that appeal.
I return to the practice of swelled tones upon the note E flat. This
note certainly acquired broad and powerful tones about which there was
nothing forced, and which were most agreeable. This development was
communicated to the neighboring notes. But did not these advantages take
from the compass of the scale? If so, were they a counterbalance to the
injury? I repeat that I dare not affirm anything in this respect.
Delsarte, assuredly, did not give as much space to vocalization as other
teachers, especially those of the Italian school.
It is also undeniable, that dramatic singing--the style which he
preferred--is dangerous to the vocal organism; particularly when one
practices the _shriek or scream_, which produces a fine effect when
skilfully employed, but is most pernicious in excess.
Delsarte was too conscientious an artist not to sacrifice his voice, at
certain moments, to his pathetic effects; but he was very careful to
warn his scholars against the abuse of this method; he directed them to
use it but very rarely, and with the greatest precaution.
I should also say, in his favor, that light voices were very differently
trained from heavy ones. Madame Carvalho, who began her studies in his
school, did not alter the flexible but feeble organ she brought there.
Mlle. Chaudesaigues and Mlle. Jacob, under Delsarte's tuition, attained
to marvels of flexibility, without losing any of their natural gifts.
_Appoggiatura._
Delsarte brought about a revolution in French music in everything
relating to appoggiatura, or rather, he restored its primitive meaning.
The way in which he interpreted it has created a school.
He taught that the root of the word--appoggiatura--being _appuyer_ (to
sustain), the chief importance should be given in the phrase, to
appoggiatura, by extent and expression; the more so that this note is
generally placed on a dissonance; and, according to this master's
system, it is on the dissonance--and not at random and very frequently,
as is the habit of many singers--that the powerful effect of the
vibration of sound should be produced.
Contrary to this opinion, the appoggiatura was for a long time used in
France as a short and rapid passing note; it thus gave the music a
vivacious character, wholly discordant with the style of serious
compositions; the music of Gluck was particularly unsuited to it.
_Roulade and Martellato._
In every school of singing the roulade is effected by means of the
_staccato_ and _legato_. Delsarte had a marked prejudice in favor of the
martellato, which partakes of both. He compared it, in his picturesque
way of expressing his ideas, to pearls united by an invisible thread.
_Pronunciation._
The master's pronunciation was irreproachable; not the slightest trace
of a provincial accent; never the least error of intonation, the
smallest mistake in regard to a long or short syllable. What is perhaps
rarer than may be thought, he possessed, in its absolute purity, the
prosody of his native language, alike in lyric declamation and in the
_cantabile_. His penetrating tones added another charm to the many
merits which he had acquired by study.
Pronunciation, therefore, was skilfully and carefully taught in
Delsarte's school. The professor's first care was to correct any
tendency to lisp, which he did by temporarily substituting the syllables
_te, de_, over and over again, for the faulty R. This substitution
brought the organ back to the requisite position for the vibration of
the R.
This process is now in common use; but I cannot say whether it was
employed before Delsarte's day. He obtained very happy results from it.
_E mute before a Consonant._
Delsarte did not allow that absolute suppression of the E mute before a
consonant, which seems to prevail at present, and which produces so bad
an effect in delivery. As the evil, at the time of which I speak, was
yet comparatively unknown, he did not make it a case of conscience; but
if he never lent himself to this ellipsis, he, "the lyric Talma," "the
exquisite singer," as he has frequently been called, should we not
regard his abstinence as a condemnation from which there is no appeal? I
do not believe, moreover, that either Nourrit or Dupré authorized by
their example a habit so contrary to the rules of French versification,
so disagreeable to the well-trained ear and so opposed to good taste.
Such young singers as have yielded to it, have only to listen to
themselves for one moment to abandon it forever.
It is certain that E mute can in no instance be assimilated to the
accented E; but to suppress it entirely, is to break the symmetry of the
verse, to put the measure out of time. It is unmistakable that the
weakness of the vowel, or mute syllable, concerns the sound, not the
duration. Let it die away gently; but for Heaven's sake, do not murder
it! Voltaire wrote: "You reproach us with our E mute, as a sad, dull
sound that dies on our lips, but in this very E mute lies the great
harmony of our prose and verse." Littré recognizes two forms of the E
mute: the E mute, faintly articulated as in "_àme_;" and the E mute
sounded as in _me, ce, le;_ but he does not allude to an E which is
entirely null.
Once more, then, that there may be no misunderstanding, let me say that
the word _mute_ added to the E, has but a relative sense, in view of the
two vowels of the same name and marked with an acute or a grave accent.
One fact throws light on the question: did any author ever make a
character above the rank of a peasant or a lackey, say:
/ "_J'aime' ben Lisett' J'crois qu'ell' m'en veut!"_ P/
Take an example from Voltaire (tragedy of the Death of Caesar): "_Voilà
vos successeurs, Horace, Décius_." Evidently, if the E mute had not been
counted, the second hemistich of the Alexandrine verse would have had
but five syllables instead of six.
Would any one like to know how the heresiarchs of the E mute would
manage?
In this instance they would repeat the A of the penultimate, aspirating
it and pronouncing thus: "_Voilà vos successeurs, Hora ... as',
Décius_."
In this way they would have the requisite number of syllables; but they
would be wholly at odds with the dictionary of the good actors of the
Théâtre Français.
This falsification is especially common in singing, though it is no less
revolting in that field of art. How often at concerts--the force of
tradition saves us at the theatre--do we hear even artists of great
reputation pronounce:
"_Quel jour prosp'..er' plus de mystè..er_," instead of: "_Quel jour
prospère plus de mystère._" And, in one of the choruses of the opera
"_La Reine de Chypre_":
"_Jamais, jamais en Fran ... anç'
Jamais l'Anglais ne régnera!_"
Instead of:
"_Jamais, jamais en France,
Jamais l'Anglais ne régnera!_"
This anomaly is most offensive in the final syllable of a verse, because
there the measure is more impaired than ever, and in this way that
alternation of male and female rhymes is suppressed, which produces so
flowing and graceful a cadence in French verse.
_E mute before a Vowel._
The encounter of E mute in a final syllable, with the initial vowel of
the word which follows it, makes the defect more apparent and
accordingly easier to fight against.
Delsarte's process was as follows: When a silent syllable is
immediately followed by a word beginning with another vowel, the E mute
(by a prolongation of the sound of the penultimate) is suppressed with
the next letter. Thus in the aria of _Joseph_ (opera by Méhu):
"_Loin de vous a langui ma jeune.. sexilée;_" and in _Count Ory: "Salut,
ô vénéra ... blermite._"
In these cases, by an unfortunate spirit of compensation, the abettors
of the innovation, suppressing the grammatical elision, sing thus:
"_Loin de vous a langui ma jeune ... ess'exilée."
"Salut, ô vénréra ... abl'erm ... it!_"
Littré's Dictionary gives us the same pronunciation as Delsarte; and his
written demonstration is even more positive. We find _favorables
auspices, arbres abattus_, written in this way:
"_fa-vo-ra-ble-z-auspices, arbre-z-abattus._"
It is, however, very difficult to express these differences exactly, in
type: what Littré expresses _radically_ by typographic characters, is
blended with most natural delicacy by the voice of a singer.
Thus, according to Delsarte, the E mute of a final syllable should be
suppressed before a vowel, on condition of a prolongation of the sound,
in harmony with the penultimate syllable.
According to Delsarte again, according to Voltaire, according to Littré,
the E mute is weakened, more or less, but never completely suppressed,
before a consonant.
Finally Legouvé, whose voice is preponderant in these matters, whose
books are in the hands of the whole world, has never entered into this
_lettricidal_ conspiracy.
I hope to be pardoned this long digression, thinking it my duty to
protest against such a ludicrous method of treating French prosody; I do
so both in the name of æsthetics and as a part of my task as biographer
of Delsarte.[6]