Let us repeat the first sentence again. "Our friendships hurry to short and poor conclusions because we have made them a texture of wine and dreams instead of the tough fiber of the human heart." Study, in voicing this, how to illumine the thought by your contrastive inflection of the words "wine and dreams" and "tough fiber of the human heart." A lingering circ.u.mflex cadence in uttering the first two words will suggest the unstable nature of a friendship woven out of so frail a fabric as wine and dreams, while a swift, strong, straight-falling inflection on each of the last six words indicates the vigorous growth of a love rooted in the tough fiber of the human heart.

In _Monna Vanna_ Maurice Maeterlinck gives the actress a superb opportunity to show her mastery of inflection. Let us turn to the scene in Prinzivalle's tent:[12]

[12] From _Monna Vanna_. By Maurice Maeterlinck. Published by Harper & Brothers.

PRINZIVALLE. Are you in pain?

VANNA. No!

PRINZIVALLE. Will you let me have it [her wound] dressed?

VANNA. No! (Pause.)

PRINZIVALLE. You are decided?

VANNA. Yes.

PRINZIVALLE. Need I recall the terms of the--?

VANNA. It is useless--I know them.

PRINZIVALLE. Your lord consents.

VANNA. Yes.

PRINZIVALLE. It is my mind to leave you free....

There is yet time should you desire to renounce....

VANNA. No!

And so the seeming inquisition proceeds. To each relentlessly searching interrogation from Gianello comes Vanna's unfaltering reply, in a single, swift monosyllable, "Yes" or "No." The same word, but, oh, the revelation which may lie in the inflection of that word! Let us try it.

Let us read the scene aloud, first giving as nearly as possible the same inflection to each of Vanna's answers, then let us voice it again, putting into the curve of the tone within the narrow s.p.a.ce of the two or three lettered monosyllables all the concentrated mental pa.s.sion of Vanna's soul in its att.i.tude toward the terrible situation and toward the man whom she believes to be her enemy. This is a most difficult exercise, but if "a man's reach should exceed his grasp," it will not r.e.t.a.r.d our progress toward the goal of a vocal vocabulary to attempt it now. Apart from all aim in its pursuit, there is no more fascinating study than this study of inflection. In this day of artistic photography there is an endless interest for the artist of the camera in playing with a subject's expression by varying the light and shade thrown upon the face. So for the student of vocal expression there is endless interest in this play with the thought behind a group of words by varying the inflection of those words. Lady Macbeth's, "We fail!" or Macbeth's, "If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly," occurs to us, of course, as rich material for this exercise.

In her a.n.a.lysis of the character of Lady Macbeth Mrs. Jameson gives us an interesting study in inflection, based on Mrs. Siddons's interpretation of the words "We fail." A foot-note reads: "In her impersonation of the part of Lady Macbeth Mrs. Siddons adopted successively three different intonations in giving the words 'we fail.'

At first a quick, contemptuous interrogation--'we fail?' Afterward with the note of admiration--'we fail!' and an accent of indignant astonishment laying the princ.i.p.al emphasis on the word we--'_we_ fail!'

Lastly, she fixed on what I am convinced is the true reading--'_we fail_'--with the simple period, modulating the voice to a deep, low, resolute tone which settled the issue at once, as though she had said: 'If we fail, why then we fail, and all is over.'"

Think how vitally the total impersonation is affected by your choice of inflections at this point. Compare the effects of the three, Mrs.

Siddons tested. Are there other possible intonations of the words? What are they? Do you realize the vital effect upon the voice of such vocal a.n.a.lysis and experimentation? Devote ten minutes of the time you take for reading each day to this phase of vocal interpretation, and at the end of a week note its effect upon your silent reading and upon your voice.

Remember, with inflection, as with every other phase of the training, the greatest immediate benefit will come from holding the question of its peculiar significance constantly in mind. Study the temperament of the people about you by noting this element in their speech. Study the att.i.tude of every interlocutor you face, by studying the inflection of his replies to the questions of life and death you propound. But, above all, study your own use of this element. Do not let your own att.i.tude go undetected. It may help you to alter an unfortunate att.i.tude to realize its effect upon your own voice.

III

STUDY IN TONE-COLOR

And now we must turn to our last point of discussion, tone-color. What is the nature of this element of our vocabulary--this _Klangfarbe_, this _Timbre_? Upon what does it depend? You will say, "It is a property of the voice depending upon the form of the vibrations which produce the tone." True! And physiologically the form of the vibrations depends upon the condition of the entire vocal apparatus. _Tone-color_, then, is a modulation of resonance. But what concerns us is the fact that it is an _emotional_ modulation of resonance. What concerns us is the fact that, as a change of thought instantly registers itself in a change of pitch, so a change of emotion instantly produces a change in the color of the tone--if the voice is a free instrument. And so, as before, I want you not to think of the physiological aspect, but to yield to the emotion, noting the character of the resultant tone, regardless of what has happened in the larynx to produce that result.

As Browning affords us the best material for our study in change of pitch, so the poems of Sidney Lanier offer to the voice the richest field for exercise in tone-color. Musician and poet in one, Lanier's peculiar charm lies in his unerring choice of words, which suggest in their sound, when rightly voiced, the atmosphere of the scene he is painting. Lanier uses words as Corot uses colors. This gives the voice its opportunity to bring out by subtle variations in _timbre_ the variations in light and shade of an atmosphere. To read aloud, sympathetically, once a day, Lanier's _The Symphony_ is the best possible way to develop simultaneously all the elements of a vocal vocabulary. We shall use this poem to-day as a text for our study in tone-color. Let us omit the message of the violins and heavier strings, and take the pa.s.sage beginning with the interlude upon which the flute-voice breaks:

But presently A velvet flute-note fell down pleasantly Upon the bosom of that harmony, And sailed and sailed incessantly, As if a petal from a wild rose blown Had fluttered down upon that pool of tone And boatwise dropped o' the convex side And floated down the gla.s.sy tide And clarified and glorified The solemn s.p.a.ces where the shadows bide.

From the warm concave of that fluted note Somewhat, half song, half odor, forth did float, As if a rose might somehow be a throat; ...

What an ideal for tone-color! Dare we think to make it ours? We must. We must adopt it with confidence of attainment. Let me quote a little further:

When Nature from her far-off glen Flutes her soft messages to men, The flute can say them o'er again; Yea, Nature, singing sweet and lone, Breathes through life's strident polyphone The flute-voice in the world of tone.

Read this pa.s.sage aloud as a mere statement of fact, employing a matter-of-fact tone. Gray in color, is it not? Now let your voice take the color Lanier has blended for you. Let your tone, like a thing "half song, half odor," float forth on these words and linger as only a perfume can about the thought. Now let the tone change in color to clarify and glorify the following message from the flute:[13]

[13] The extracts on pp. 279-287 are from Mr. Sidney Lanier's volume of "Poems," published by Charles Scribner's Sons.

Sweet friends, Man's love ascends To finer and diviner ends Than man's mere thought e'er comprehends.

I cannot, for lack of s.p.a.ce, reprint the whole flute message, but you will get the poem, if you have it not, and voice every word of it, I am sure. Here are some of the most telling lines for our present purpose:

I speak for each no-tongued tree That, spring by spring, doth n.o.bler be, And dumbly and most wistfully His mighty prayerful arms outspreads Above men's oft-unheeding heads, And his big blessing downward sheds.

I speak for all-shaped blooms and leaves, Lichens on stones and moss on eaves, Gra.s.ses and grains in ranks and sheaves; Broad-fronded ferns and keen-leaved canes, And briery mazes bounding lanes, And marsh-plants, thirsty-cupped for rains, And milky stems and sugary veins; For every long-armed woman-vine That round a piteous tree doth twine; For pa.s.sionate odors, and divine Pistils, and petals crystalline;

All tree-sounds, rustlings of pine-cones, Wind-sighings, doves' melodious moans, And night's unearthly undertones; All placid lakes and waveless deeps, All cool reposing mountain-steeps, Vale-calms and tranquil lotos-sleeps;-- Yea, all fair forms, and sounds, and lights, And warmths, and mysteries, and mights, Of Nature's utmost depths and heights, --These doth my timid tongue present, Their mouthpiece and leal instrument And servant, all love-eloquent.

You see, to voice this message a mood born of all the "warmths and mysteries and mights of Nature's utmost depths and heights" must take possession of you, and you must yield your instrument to the expression of that mood. Then watch, watch, watch the color of the tone change as the voice, starting with the clear flute-note, follows sympathetically the varying phases of Nature's face which the poet has so sympathetically painted. And now, after a "thrilling calm," the flute yields its place to a sister instrument, and the tone must change its _timbre_ to the reed note of the clarionet. In the "melting" message of that instrument we find two pa.s.sages which afford the voice chance for a most vivid contrast in color. Beginning with the line, "Now comes a suitor with sharp, prying eye," read the two descriptions which follow, lending your voice to the atmosphere of each:

_ ... Here, you Lady, if you'll sell I'll buy: Come, heart for heart--a trade? What! weeping? why?_ Shame on such wooer's dapper mercery!

I would my lover kneeling at my feet In humble manliness should cry, _O sweet!

I know not if thy heart my heart will greet: I ask not if thy love my love can meet: Whate'er thy worshipful soft tongue shall say, I'll kiss thine answer, be it yea or nay: I do but know I love thee, and I pray To be thy knight until my dying day._

The first two lines, which set forth a suit in terms of trade, demand a hard, calculating tone, suggestive of large silver dollars. Call this color dull steel gray. This tone flashes out for a moment in the white indignation of the third line, softens and warms with the next two lines, then grows and glows until it reaches a crimson radiance in the last two lines. Try it!

And now, with "heartsome voice of mellow scorn," let us sound the message of the "bold straightforward horn."

"Now comfort thee," said he, "Fair Lady.

For G.o.d shall right thy grievous wrong, And man shall sing thee a true-love song, Voiced in act his whole life long, Yea, all thy sweet life long, Fair Lady.

Where's he that craftily hath said.

The day of chivalry is dead?

I'll prove that lie upon his head, Or I will die instead, Fair Lady.

Now by each knight that e'er hath prayed To fight like a man and love like a maid, Since Pembroke's life as Pembroke's blade, I' the scabbard, death was laid, I dare avouch my faith is bright That G.o.d doth right and G.o.d hath might.

Nor time hath changed His hair to white, Nor His dear love to spite, Fair Lady.

I doubt no doubts: I strive, and shrive my clay, And fight my fight in the patient modern way For true love and for thee--ah me! and pray To be thy knight until my dying day, Fair Lady."

Made end that knightly horn, and spurred away, Into the thick of the melodious fray.