CHAPTER XXX
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.