Chapter 37

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]