Bob’s
World of
J. Massenet

Reviews — The New York Times

From the New York Times - February 17, 1901

AMONG MUSICIANS

Miss Breval, Mme. Nordica, and
Some Points in Vo-
cal Method.

     The week which has just come to an end was one of the most active of a very busy musical season. At the Opera House, in which the largest share of public absorption is centered, the week was originally intended to be one of celebration of the genius of Meyerbeer. “Les Huguenots” was offered to a small audience on Wednesday night and “L'Africaine” was to have been brought forward on Friday. Unfortunately for Meyerbeer, Miss Breval, who was to have sung Zuleika in the second work, was indisposed, and Boito's “Mefistofele” had to be substituted. Meanwhile some curious persons were wondering if Mme. Nordica, who used to be regarded as a pretty competent representative of the Indo-African queen, had forgotten the rôle. Possibly she was unwilling to appear as a substitute, but having no information on this point, I am compelled to doubt that such was the case; for in all my observation of opera singers I have never seen one less afflicted with megalocephalic than she. Certain secrets of the prison house are not revealed, but I suspect that Miss Breval has the promise of the astute manager that she shall have the first appearances here in the rôles of Valentine and Zuleika in some other parts.
     Miss Breval is a peculiar person, and she has delighted some patrons of the house while she has bitterly disappointed others. Opinions about her are curiously divided. A leading theatrical manager, who had seen her in “Le Cid,” spoke to me enthusiastically of her acting. He was impressed by her expressive arms and her large gestures. These made precisely the same impression on me at her first appearance, but when I discovered that her entire stock of acting consisted of these arms and the same three [or] four poses I lost faith in her powers as an actress. The monotony of her pictorial work is inexplicable, for she surely has a dramatic temperament. The trouble seems to be that she pours all her temperamental warmth into an injudicious strain upon her voice, which becomes harsh and strident under the ordeal. If she were only an artistic singer, she might be a vital force in the company. But her vocal method produces disagreeable results, as all faulty method does.
     This word “method” seems to contain some mystery to the ordinary reader. It ought not to. The aim of all vocal method is the production of a pure, warm, beautiful, carrying tone. This tone must be preserved in all passages. When singers do not produce that kind of tone or lose control of it except in the easiest cantabile measures, then there is something wrong with the method. When critics find fault with the singer's method, it is because the results are bad. It is by hearing the results, just as any one else can, that the critic tells that there is something wrong. If he is skilled in the art of song, he can tell what it is, but any hearer ought to be able to tell when a singer's method is bad, though perhaps unable to point out the precise nature of the fault.
     Miss Breval's faults were noted in these columns at her first appearance. Further observation of her work has not changed the opinion then expressed. She uses too much French vibrato and she scoops at too many of her tones. Furthermore, she employs the French method of tone emission, which favors an undue straining of the muscles of the throat and leads to a pinched quality of tone. If Miss Breval would think less about her throat and more about her lungs and diaphragm when she is singing she would get better results. But she will not change her method at this period of her career. She has had too much public success.
     Many persons think that Miss Breval is a remarkable beauty. This question, of course, belongs to the art department, and cannot be settled here. I pause only to record the fact that there are quite as many others who think that Miss Breval is positively plain, not to say ugly. And thus does the war wage over a French soprano, admittedly not of the first rank.
                                                              ***
     Mme. Nordica's recent appearance as Isolde revived the lively controversy between her supporters and those of Miss Ternina. Here again enters a question which professional comment is not required to decide. Indeed, it is one of the things about which this writer takes no concern to himself. I do not care a rap which of them is the greater artist. The only question that concerns me is whether either or both present a convincing impersonation. Both of them do so. One accentuates certain traits of Isolde more than the other. Each gives something that the other does not. Each offers a beautiful and carefully detailed composition of the character. Why should we quarrel as to which is the greater? If it were in my power to decide such a matter for operagoers, I would not do it, because the American habit which was the better, we would all refuse to accept the other at all.
     One thing ought to be said right here about Mme. Nordica. Her vocal method enables her to sing all sorts of röles year after year and to retain the power, freshness, and vibrancy of her voice. Those who heard her ringing high tones in Isolde must have realized that all talk about Wagner's music ruining the voice is nonsense. On this point I have recently seen some very sensible remarks in characteristic English by an experienced teacher, Mme. Luisa Cappiani. Here they are:
     The decline or loss of voice may be ascribed somewhat to Richard Wagner's music, by the facility of its vocal execution. Its lengthy recitatives may be considered difficult for declamation, but there is no difficulty whatever in rendering his rôles, which are entirely devoid of artistic fioritures, of runs and trills. These must be acquired by physiological dexterity. After long study and practice the voice becomes elastic and flexible, and with the proper emission of tone is able to express the softest tenderness of emotion, as well as fire and passion of the soul, without becoming hoarse. As there are no physiological difficulties in Wagner's music, every musical young girl possessing a good voice may be drilled in Wagner's rôles a very short time, but not having gone through a good school of singing, and not having the proper emission, making the forte passages by pressing the muscles of the throat, and, with the heavy orchestration, they think they are compelled, instead of singing, to shout in order to be heard - the loss of voice is the natural consequence. At the beginning this shouting has some effect, the beauty of the young, fresh voice covering all defects. The singer makes a success - but not for a long time. Without conscientious and skillful culture of the voice, this organ comes to grief, not by Wagner's fire and passion, but by lack of vocal education, the training of which gives to the singer the capability to infuse into his voice such sound colors which the intelligence of the moment demands, for depth of soul, tenderness, fire, and passion, without screaming. With this artistic singing psychology receives its full rights, and it is this which was Wagner's intention.
     Ah, that pressing of the muscles of the throat to get a large sound! Why will they do it, when it means ruin of the voice? The little boys out in the street, screaming to one another in their games, do not do it because they instinctively obey nature, not yet having cultivated bad habits and strayed away from her. But how many professional singers there are who have deliberately practiced vicious tone production! How many lovely voices have been sacrificed to the foolish desire to get before the public quickly, without going through the sound training of the good old Italian school!
                                                                                         W.J. HENDERSON.

Last updated December 29, 2006