CHAPTER XIV

VOCAL CORDS

But, of course, breathing alone is not sufficient. After the breathing capacity has been developed the power thus acquired must be rightly applied, and here the first principle is right emission, and in particular the rule that the release of the breath and the attack of the tone must take place simultaneously. In other words, no breath at all must be permitted to escape before the production of tone.

It is to attain this result that the so-called _coup de glotte_, or “shock of the glottis,” has been advocated. To appreciate this term it is necessary to understand exactly how vocal tone is produced.

I will not attempt to go into the matter fully, but the general principles involved are quite easily grasped.

Taken broadly, then, it will be understood that vocal sound is produced by a column of air passing from the lungs through a small aperture formed by the vocal cords within the larynx (see diagrams). When we breathe in the ordinary way the air passes in and out as we inspire and exhale, without any sound being produced. This is because the passage through the larynx is then quite clear. No obstruction is offered to the air current, and in consequence the process is quite noiseless.

When, however, we wish to utter a sound, Nature provides for this by enabling us to interpose an obstruction to the air current by means of the vocal cords, and the air then has to pass through a small slit or aperture, sometimes called the “vocal chink,” formed by their being drawn closely together curtainwise, as it were.

When the vocal cords--or ligaments, as they are perhaps better described--are drawn together in this manner the passage of the air is so restricted that it can only pass in short rapid pulsations, instead of, as before, in a continuous stream, and the result of these pulses or vibrations is the production of sound or tone.

The aperture, or chink, is called the glottis, and the character of the tone resulting, in particular the pitch of it, is regulated by the precise disposition and proximity to one another of the two bands or cords or ligaments--sometimes they are known as the vocal lips--by which the chink or opening is formed.

The process itself of regulating the opening of the vocal cords in this way is entirely automatic and subconscious. We merely _will_, to produce a tone of a certain pitch and the vocal cords automatically, and without any conscious effort on our part, are brought together to precisely the right degree necessary to produce that particular tone.

From this it will be understood that every note that is uttered, every inflection even of the speaking voice, however minute, requires a slightly different adjustment of these infinitely delicate threadlike membranes which are provided for this purpose within the box-like larynx; and this extraordinarily delicate adjustment is all effected quite automatically and instinctively by the mere operations of the will.

The brain intimates, so to speak, that it requires a certain note to be produced and forthwith, without the slightest conscious act of adjustment on the part of the singer or speaker, the vocal ligaments adapt themselves precisely in the manner required and the particular note desired is duly produced.

And these notes may issue forth through that tiny aperture and from the throat of the singer to the number of a dozen or more in a second--each one requiring a separate adjustment of the aperture and the said adjustment being effected in every instance, in the case of a properly trained singer, absolutely perfectly and exactly.

Surely of all the many wonderful contrivances which go to the making of the mechanism of the human body there is none which is more wonderful than this! It is, indeed, necessary only to consider the elaboration of the means and the complexity of the muscular adjustments necessary to achieve similar results in the case of a violin, say, or a piano, in order to realise the amazing ingenuity and efficiency of the means employed by Nature.

But I am wandering from the _coup de glotte_, which I set out to explain. Let it be understood, therefore, that the _coup de glotte_ is merely a name for a particular method of bringing together the lips of the vocal cords and certain subordinate muscles, known as the ventricular bands, with a view to a better and cleaner production of tone, and with a view especially to the avoidance of the particular fault above referred to, namely, the emission of air before the production of the note.

In the result the “attack” is certainly very sharp and clean, but personally I cannot recommend this particular method of achieving that result, since the effect is anything but agreeable to the ear, and there is good reason for thinking that the practice, besides being unnecessary, is also injurious to a vocal organ.

I will not go further into the matter, however, since all such technical details are for the teacher to explain and illustrate and cannot be satisfactorily dealt with in print.

Certain general principles may, however, be touched on, amongst which the first is, perhaps, that there should never be at any time the smallest conscious strain or effort. Relaxation, looseness, ease, should be the watchwords all the time. Rigidity, tightening of the muscles, stiffness, contraction, are fatal to the production of beautiful tone. Here, as so often in art, when grace and beauty are the objects aimed at, economy of effort is the grand secret.

There should never be any strain or forcing of any sort or kind, and on the same principle, it may be noted, is the rule as to the amount of breath emitted, which should always be the smallest quantity possible which suffices to produce the tone required. Let out enough breath and no more--keeping the remainder in reserve--that is one of the fundamental secrets of beautiful tone production.

Lilli Lehmann puts the same point in another way when she insists on the supreme importance of emitting “as little breath as possible.” Perhaps I may be permitted to quote, also, in this connection some interesting remarks of Signor Salvatore Fucito, in a recently published volume, in reference to the practice of Caruso in this regard.

“Caruso governed the expiratory flow of the breath with such mastery that not a particle of it escaped without giving up its necessary equivalent in tone. Caruso emitted for each musical phrase, or for each note, just enough breath to produce that phrase or note musically and _no more_. The remaining breath he kept in reserve, which made the enchanted hearer feel that the master was still far from the limit of his resources, that he had still ample motive power in reserve for whatever the occasion might require.”

Another great master of breathing is Battistini. One hears him singing long phrases, one after the other, without perceiving when or how he fills his lungs, so completely has he covered up all traces of the physical effort. There is no puffing and panting, no discoloration or distortion of the face.

I am myself often asked how I manage to find the breath for the long florid passages which I so often have to sing, and my reply usually is that I have a good pair of bellows which I make a point of always keeping well filled with air.

This can be done, I may add, in the case of such passages as I have mentioned by taking at times only partial breaths instead of full ones. These can naturally be taken much more quickly than complete inspirations, and by their means the “bellows” can be kept constantly replenished even when the heaviest demands are being made upon their contents.

But while it is essential to maintain a good pressure of air behind the tone, this does not mean that the lungs must be filled to distention, for this produces the worst possible result. Madame Lilli Lehmann has recorded, for instance, in her valuable treatise on singing, that she made this mistake in the first instance, with the result that she always felt as if she must release some of her superfluous breath before beginning to sing.

“Undoubtedly,” she writes, “I took in too much air in breathing and cramped various muscles, thereby depriving my breathing organs and muscles of their elasticity. I often had, with all my care and preparation for inhalation, too little breath, and sometimes, when not giving special thought to it, more than enough.” And others not infrequently commit the same error under the mistaken impression that they must get as much air into their lungs as possible.