If you are reading this post, you are likely inside, “social distancing” while riding out a tsunami called COVID-19.

Hello! New York City—from where I write—is on lockdown with a curfew, Broadway is dark for a month and everything cancelled.

What to do?

Hunker down, of course, and go on retreat. And what better retreat than into the past? Towards that end, I offer you a lecture demonstration given by William Shakespeare (can you imagine giving your child that name?) in New York in 1900, Shakespeare making his mark as a leading exponent of Francesco Lamperti. If you are familiar with his book (which can be found on the download page), you will recognize the vocal pedagogy involved.

Above all things, I hope that you…

Stay in. Stay safe. Keep the faith.

William Shakespeare on Respiration and the Vocal Organs.

[The following is a lecture delivered by Mr. William Shakespeare in Mendelssohn Hall, New York, January 4, 1900.]

Accustomed as I have been from my earliest youth to appear before audiences as a pianist, as a singer, as a conductor of choral and orchestral concerts, and then as a composer, my appearance in the capacity of a lecturer is new and strange to me. I candidly confess that I come before you with some fear and trembling, but, when I call to mind the encouragement I have received from America for the last twenty years, and the sympathetic way in which my ideas in relation to the art of singing have been taken by professors, artists and lovers of music over here, and when I think how many splendid and brilliant American voices I have had the privilege of training here, I feel far less diffidence in coming before you this afternoon. Of one thing, at any rate, I am convinced; that nowhere are questions of art more intelligently discussed than in this country, and nowhere are ideas which—whatever their value—are honest and based on many years’ study and reflection, so likely to meet a kindly and appreciative hearing.

We often hear it said that singers of the present day can not or will not give as much time to their studies as was given in olden times, and that they rely more and more on the powers of the orchestra, and thereby encourage young and immature singers to shout rather than to sing. We also hear it said that impresarios find difficulty in presenting operas by Gluck and Mozart, not to mention others by Italian composers. I remember on my first visit to Milan, as a student of singing, that the national theater, La Scala, was already in difficulties because the impresarios were not able to find singers like those of the old school, singers who were phonetically expressive, and able to enthrall the audiences by the beauty of their singing. But, after all, the human voice is, as it has always been, most expressive and touching, and capable of stirring the chords of the human heart. So it is not to be wondered at that there is everywhere a great inquiry springing up relative to the secrets of the old Italian school of level, sustained singing, and this inquiry must, sooner or later, lead us back to the right path in which singers will be trained to sing any and all classics of the vocal art.

As to “Natural Singing":

Singing should be as natural—that is to say, as expressive—as talking; not only as natural as our ordinary speech, but like the utterances to which we give expression in our deeper emotion. Singing is, however, a prolonged talking, and must be higher and louder than the voice we use in ordinary conversation, and more especially is this the case when the voice is to be used in a large hall. Most of us who have tried to sing naturally have found the breath escaping, and have broken down in the middle of a phrase. Others have succeeded in holding the breath, but have found a weariness of the throat, which seems to be the great difficulty. Indeed, the higher and louder we sing the more tired does the throat become.

Our lecture this afternoon will be an attempt to show that it is through the absence of correct ideas of breath-control that we were originally compelled to choke up the throat and make sounds generally known as “ throaty," “nasal,” etc. Some people say: “Breathe naturally!” One might as well tell the gymnast to perform naturally. His wonderful feats appear natural, but it is a vast extension of that which is natural to us. It is a gradual development of muscular force, which test is by no means natural to us. We have often heard of the celebrated singer, Farinelli, who lived in the time of Handel, and who sang a song with a tremble of legato played by a celebrated trumpeter. In a cadence near the end of the song these two vied with each other in holding and swelling the long end with extraordinary purity and volume; the trumpeter, however, had to stop for want of breath, and Farinelli then proceeded, in the same breath, with more ornaments before coming to a close.

Respiration-Inspiration and Expiration:

Respiration comprises two acts: inspiration and expiration. In what way do we draw in the breath? Let us suppose that I have here an ordinary pair of bellows with a side valve so fixed that the air can be drawn in and sent out only through the nozzle. If the bellows be extended, the air must rush in and fill it; and, if I press the handles together, the air must rush out again. Now, if you can understand why, on expanding the bellows I cause the air to rush in and fill the empty space, it is just as easy to see that, on expanding the living bellows—namely, the chest—the air must rush in and fill the lungs. In the act of breathing, then, inspiration and expiration are performed by the expansion and the pressing together again of the windpipe. If, when we draw in the breath, we feel a sense of expansion about the soft place in the breast-bone, we have drawn in the breath by using what is called a diaphragm. This is a membranous muscle which runs across the body, dividing it horizontally and causing the chest to be air-tight at its base. Some people use this muscle so much that they feel the body expanded low down at the abdomen. This is not good for the singer, as it is insufficient breathing, and, if relied on, may prove a treacherous method, for the singer is apt to find his whole store of breath suddenly disappear and then he has nothing to fall back upon. It is only one way of breathing, this diaphragmatic breathing. Another mode of drawing in the breath is the expansion of the ribs. Now the ribs do not lie horizontally; they slope downward and forward in such a way that when they are raised they are also expanded. I can imitate this by fastening my hands in front, and you will see that raising my elbows causes me to simulate the action of the ribs, which will now expand. [Illustrating] The ribs, on being raised, are expanded.

A singer, in taking breath, must use both the methods I have just mentioned. He must contract the diaphragm so that he feels an expansion about the soft place in the breast-bone; he must also feel a great expansion of the ribs and the sides by raising the ribs. Perhaps the greatest fault possible is for us to raise the ribs by the muscles that are fixed to the points of the shoulders in front. This will raise the chest generally and cause the soft place to fill in—which is wrong. That is to say, if I raise my chest with these muscles that are fixed here [indicating chest], as they are too near the throat, it is a most inconvenient way of breathing and does not leave me any freedom. We should rather study carefully how to avoid reliance on the muscles that raise the chest in front, by the use and practise of the very powerful muscles which are felt at the back, under the shoulders and under the arms, and so expand enormously the sides of the body. If you should embrace me here [indicating sides of waist] I could draw in a vigorous breath by muscles fixed in my back there [indicating portion of back just below the shoulder-blades]. I would advise the student to avoid the use of the muscles that raise the chest, and, likewise, the mistake of breathing too low down, by slowly bowing the body forward as though greeting a friend, because, in so doing, it is difficult to use these wrong muscles. If, when we are practising our breathing, we permit ourselves to stand like this [erect posture, head thrown back], it gives us a great chance of using these muscles which I say are the wrong ones for breathing. But, if I stand easily, as though I were greeting a friend, you will all feel that I am much more polite to you than if you said: “He or she received me very stiffly by standing like this” [indicated by standing erect, head thrown back]. In your practise bow your body gently forward. On the other hand, try to cultivate the use of the powerful muscles that raise the ribs from the upper part of the back by extending the arms forward and outward, and pressing the elbows together as though one were about to support some heavy weight. In this position we can draw in an enormous breath, and yet feel easy at the chest and throat. In other words, if I want to cultivate a sensation of using these powerful muscles that run up the back, I should say to you: Take a position as though you were supporting some great weight that would make you twist yourself there, and then you would feel whether or not you were using those muscles of which I have just spoken.

Let us now turn to the muscles by which we drive out the breath. These are principally situated in the abdomen and they have a double duty to perform: one is to pull down the ribs, and the other is, by their pressure inward, to cause the diaphragm to ascend again. In this way the air space inside us is made much smaller and a a portion of the air is driven out.

As to Breath-Control:

By breath-control we mean that we can regulate the action of the muscles that draw in the breath at the same time that our expiratory muscles are sending it out, and so we can regulate the amount of breath that leaves the body in a given time and prevent it from all rushing out at once. There is, then, within us a struggle between these two forces. One force causes a continuous, steady pressure over all the notes of the voice, while the other regulates, controls and economizes this same pressure, which, if not regulated, would let the breath escape altogether and the sound would come to a premature end. We often see the results of a clumsy way of breathing in the unpleasant gasping and tempestuous breathing by those who rely on the raising of the chest. This mechanism is too near the throat to permit of its opening wide enough for the quick taking in of the breath. The poet says, and correctly: “My bosom heaved with many a sigh." So that the bosom heaving is analogous to a noisy respiration. On the other hand, the result of a right method of drawing in the breath is a noiseless and imperceptible respiration. It would be possible to be so imperceptible that an audience is unaware of the breath being taken at all. The celebrated tenor, Rubini, was once closely watched for several months by the equally celebrated bass, Lablache, and, although the latter was holding Rubini's hand while the tenor was singing a duet, he declared that he was unable to observe when and how he breathed, so noiseless and imperceptible was his method of respiration. He watched the singer for two or three minutes, but was unable to discover evidence of how and when the latter breathed. In fact, a singer should breathe very much as the swimmer does, and in such a way as to leave the chest and throat free. The enormous expansion of the ribs by the back muscles will assist the diaphragm in its moderate descent and prevent our breathing so low down as to bring about the disaster of straining the abdomen, which is said to have happened.

Now we come to an important point. At the end of every phrase we sing we must strive to retain within us sufficient breath to feel that we can sing still another note, with full tone and intensity. By observing how the phrase is finished we can tell whether we have been singing with the open throat and the right breath-control. Indeed, the art of never finishing a phrase with the breath perishing is the goal to be aimed at in the career of the singer, as it will give him that cachet of merit—calmness. Many singers can not be said to end their phrases at all. They ought rather to be said to let them die. The control of the breath is like the back-pedal of the cyclist. If he loses control he may be lost, and the machine run away from him. He must use a bake and possibly hurt the instrument. So, the singer who can not rightly control the death must squeeze in some way the tongue and throat, and spoil the tone of his instrument.

A Good Exercise in Respiration:

Now let me explain to you an exercise which I consider a good one.

First, balance the body beyond the front foot; then take in, quicker and quicker, short, panting breaths until you find yourself panting there [indicating chest]. Expand yourself around the sides, and, finally, lock up the breath, as it were, up the back. Thirdly: Breathe out with energy and yet control the breath while mentally pronouncing ““La” for ten or fifteen seconds. First I bow forward and take quicker breaths in and out. I fill myself with enormous expansion here [indicating chest], and then I test the breath control by pressing it out for ten or fifteen seconds. This makes a thoroughly good exercise, and can exercise only the muscles that have to do with respiration.

Now stop the breath, with some still to spare, by arresting it with the breathing muscles and the throat wide open. When you feel the back muscles at work, you need no longer hold up the arms as I suggested at the beginning of my talk. And later, when you can suddenly take in a full breath in this noiseless manner, it will not be necessary to take the quivering breaths that I have just mentioned. The control over the use of the bow in violin playing, the kind of touch for pianoforte playing, is analogous to the control of the breath by a singer. The sensation during singing should be as though the voice were resting on the breath, and this breath, while being vigorously pressed out, should seem as though it were remaining in the body. Practise the quick pant or quivering, as felt at the soft place and the sides, as well as the control and silent pressing out of the breath, some twenty or thirty times a day, until you become somewhat of a gymnast at the breathing. This can give nothing but a healthy development to all the respiratory muscles necessary to good singing, and will in time enable you to emulate the feat which I will relate to you. A friend of mine tells me that his father knew Lablache intimately, and that one day this artist, for fun, sang a long note from piano to forte, and back to piano, then drank a glass of wine, and, without having breathed, finished by singing a chromatic scale in trills up the octave—all this in the same breath; and then blew out a candle with his mouth open. There were giants in those days. [Laughter.] But, though the race of giants is by no means extinct, nature has never suffered me to aspire to be numbered among them. I come before you to talk about singing, and, if I venture to sing you some songs, I must plead for your indulgence, as I could never claim to be more than what is called a light tenor, and, moreover, I feel my voice is still suffering from the change of climate.

[Mr. S. sang the following songs: “ Leh’n deine Wang,” “Margareth am Thore,” and “Murmelndes Lüftchen," by Adolph Jensen; and “To Chloe in Sickness,” and “Sing, Maiden, Sing,” by Sterndale Bennett]

THE VOCAL ORGANS.

The Larynx and its Muscles:

The larynx is a wedge-shaped box which we can feel with our fingers underneath the chin, and is generally called Adam’s apple. Since the time of the Garden of Eden this delicate instrument has expressed our thoughts in words, and the muscles attached to the larynx have turned our words into song, attuned the notes to the musical scale.

While many earnest scientists have endeavored to discover the exact action of the most delicate muscles of the larynx, nothing of so simple a character has yet been discovered as to make the study of singing any easier, for, although the laryngoscope has been of assistance to the surgeon in observing the signs of disease, it can not be said to have proved of any practical value to the singer. I have always felt that it is of much more practical value to note that which happens to the muscles that form the floor of the mouth. Let us note that, on singing a scale upwards and examining with the hand the floor of the mouth underneath the chin, we discover a gradual contraction of the muscles. These become tenser and tenser as we ascend the scale [illustrating]. The higher note is more tense than the lower.

The art of singing may be said to consist in a large measure in using these muscles with vigor, but with litheness,—not with rigidity. The masterly player of the pianoforte can strike with vigor all the notes and yet may not be rigid at the wrist. The great violinist can produce the most powerful effects with his bow, and yet not play with a rigid bow arm. In like manner, the great singer must contract the muscles in the root of the tongue which are all connected with the jaw, the chin and the body of the tongue, and yet do this in such a way 'as to leave the jaw and the body of the tongue in perfect freedom. The jaw and the body of the tongue must be in perfect freedom, like the wrist of the good pianist and the bow arm of the great violinist. The old masters of singing, without any knowledge of anatomy, held it to be of the greatest importance that during singing the jaw should be still. That is to say, the mouth was not to move in the scales, and the tongue was to be perfectly independent and free to adapt itself to the different positions necessary to pronunciation. Their maxim was: Who moves the mouth while singing the scale can not sing. Pacchiarotti held that he who knows how to breathe and how to pronounce knows how to sing. Crescentini averred that looseness about the neck and the voice on the breath is the art of singing. What does this mean? Does it mean that we are never to move the mouth? Of course not. The practise of the old Italian school was first to attain the art of singing on the most open sound possible, namely, the vowel “a,” and to train the voice by scales and exercises until all the notes responded to this vowel; so, by the phrase “not moving the mouth” we must understand that the mouth, or, in other words, the lower jaw was not to be moved in the different passages which they gave their pupils to practise. These great masters always insisted on the breath-control being the basis of singing. The one said that he who knows how to breathe and pronounce can sing; and the other said: looseness of the neck and the voice on the breath.

Examples of Uncontrolled Breath in Singing:

Thus the singer, in order not to disturb this basis, must not permit the emission of notes that demand a greater pressure of breath than that over which he has perfect control. The only sounds that we love to hear are those produced when the voice is absolutely natural: free, unimpeded, full of expression. How can any one sing thus, with the throat loose and wide open for the pronunciation of “a,” without controlling the breath? What is to hold the breath except the breath muscles inside the body? If we do not control the breath muscles, what happens? Either the throat contracts in a manner which we recognize as “ throaty,” or the nasal cavities are rigidly held, and we say the note is “nasal,” or, we hear a lugubrious sound, terribly monotonous or sepulchral, or a silly sound, the white, colorless voice, like that produced by the half-witted. Here we have four kinds of wrong sounds: Throaty, which we all recognize; nasal, like the goat; frontal; and the white, silly notes, like the sheep. [Illustrating with the “bah-a-a” of the sheep.] All this because, through not managing the breath through the muscles in our body, we are compelled to use, in some way, one or more of the faulty types I have just enumerated. In whispering “a” in these four ways, if you whisper a throaty “a” you can immediately feel the contortion of the throat which narrows, and you can imagine the result when we use that kind of throat instead of the open throat. [Illustrating] If we whisper “a” in the most natural manner possible, you can immediately see how the throat ought to be while singing. A “squeezed” state of the throat influences the action of the vocal cords, so that notes are frequently flat or sharp, and they will not sound fully to the normal pressure of the breath. There is often experienced a sensation as though the vocal cords were squeezed together. There is felt a rigidity of muscles beneath the chin. These, then, are symptoms which should warn the singer that he is controlling his breath in the wrong way; and the face assumes an anxious expression. The ugly sound is merely a sign of faulty breath-taking. The old singers cut away these difficulties with one stroke, by practising before a lighted taper and singing some fifteen or twenty seconds with a full tone, with the breath steady so as not to cause the flame to flicker. Another plan was to practise before a mirror, and then only a sudden puff would tarnish the mirror, and this was of course to be avoided. These experiments are the finest tests of perfect control over the breath which leaves the throat absolutely free to produce a full tone at the will of the artist, and this method was the basis of the remarkable results of the past century.

We must never forget that the business of the throat is to produce the sound, that is, the tune, the tone and the pronunciation; but the throat should have nothing to do with the control of the breath. The looseness of the neck and the unconscious feeling about the throat during singing caused the success of the singers of the past. The Italian singer has no throat; he feels no throat. Let us imagine a workman whose business it is to breathe on some object the whole day long, and to breathe with a long, strong breath, and with open mouth. Would not such a man contract his throat? Never. He would in half an hour find his throat so tired as to make him incapable of continuing. Would he breathe with a fixed and raised chest? No! Try this for five minutes and see how it will tire you. He would take ample breaths, swelling out at the soft place; he would expand his size enormously. In this way only could he continue such labor. The singer must do all this except that he must breathe on the object which is in the Adam’s apple. When his breath fails nothing is left for him but to squeeze the throat above the Adam’s apple. In so doing he spoils both the tone and the pronunciation, and invariably shortens his voice.

“Leave Off Holding the Throat:”

I have shown you where to hold the breath. Now, leave off holding the throat. Of course, in trying to sing with this looseness, we must expect that the breath will often slip out of control, and this will bring home to us the truth of the old saying: “ The art of singing is the school of Respiration.” This does not mean that the art of respiration is the art of singing, but that the art of singing demands a school of respiration. Without it there is no art of singing. If, on the starting of a note, we forget to control the breath, that phrase will end in failure, for, we must sing on with the throat embarrassed, or, if we bravely continue with the throat loose, we shall soon have to stop, or we must eke out the breath by singing with so little intensity that the phrase will be meaningless. Upon feeling this, we stop immediately; carefully take a fresh breath and try again, until we get a few of the lower tones to sound to the controlled breath, gradually bringing higher notes into the fold, as it were, until the whole voice is resting on the breath. The relief of the throat will be magical, but the breath control will tire the body, until, by practise, we become gymnasts in strength. Even if our habits of talking are stiff, this singing to the breath will change our method of speech into one of complete ease and comfort. Let us bear in mind, first, that only by attending to the breath can we dare to sing with frankness and with open throat. Second: Every ascending note demands a slight increase in the pressure of the breath, and a corresponding watchfulness over its control. Third: Every change of note; every change of word, or of force, or even of expression, will frequently call our attention away from the breath control. It will be apt to go wrong until the right way has almost grown into an unconscious habit. The lower jaw, in good singing, should be balanced, floating, as it were. Under this condition the tongue and throat will be found to act naturally, and the tongue consonants: l, d, t, n, etc., can be sung without moving the jaw. I can say: la, da, ra, etc. [illustrating] without moving the jaw. When I am singing rightly, the jaw remains quite independent of the movements of the tongue. The natural action of the soft-palate, the lips, and facial muscles is in nowise disturbed by good singing, and, by controlling the breath and observing whether the tongue, face, jaw, and facial muscles are free, one could learn to sing. The use of a mirror for detecting facial distortion has always been recommended by good singing masters. It is an excellent plan, and it shows us whether we are making faces. During singing we must acquire the habit—by no means customary to us—of keeping the mouth open, at least a thumb-breadth; and, although at first this seems antagonistic to the smiling lip, so necessary to the medium and head voice, we must accustom ourselves to singing with the mouth open until the habit becomes a second nature. The attack of the note, that is to say, the art of starting a sound with frankness in the very center of the pitch intended, has always been regarded as a great test of good singing. [Illustrating correct and defective manner of attacking a note] It is very difficult, indeed, unless the throat is loose, to avoid these unfortunate “ scoopings.”

The Importance of Legato:

I should like to say a few words about “ legato.” The accomplishment of what is known as legato singing, namely, that joining of the notes which yet must at the same time all be clean cut out, was looked upon by the old masters as another of the great signs of good singing. They said: “He who can not join can not sing." All the notes of a passage on the same vowel should be like pearls on a string, and the string supporting them is: the right control of the breath. Each note must be distinctly heard; just as distinctly as we feel each billiard ball, or each knuckle, when passing the finger over several of these rounded forms. They join, as it were, and yet are clean cut out. They are separate, yet joined; not jerked as when a stick is passed along the palings; nor smeared or blurred together, like a drop of rain running down the window pane. I will sing you a few notes in illustration of this. If the notes of a passage are jerky, you will recognize it at once. [Illustrating a series of jerky notes] The way to avoid this jerkiness is to sing in this way: [Illustrating the correct rendering of the notes.] There is a middle course which I highly recommend to you, which is: [Illustrating another method of correct rendering.]

As to Tone-Production:

In concluding this little talk about voice-production, my I saw one word to you about “tone-production,” which is practically the same thing under another name?

The breath, which is the motive power of the voice, sets the vocal cords in vibration in the same way as the bow of a violin does the strings. There would, however, be little force in the tune so produced unless certain hollow spaces assisted these cords, and lent to them resonance of character. If I sing over a large, empty bottle, I suddenly observe that one particular note is enormously increased by the air in the enclosed space. The body of the violin vibrates in sympathy with the strings and acts as what is usually termed a sounding-board. My object is not to go into the abstruse subject of acoustics, but rather to show that it is probably the chest, the space in the mouth and the nasal cavities, that act in some way as resonators in developing the enormous force and character which the human voice possesses. Probably, also, the hard-palate and teeth are designed by nature for throwing out the voice, if we only emit it with sufficient freedom and do not stop up the throat and close the mouth. The combined action of the nasal cavities, the lips and the facial muscles, so modifies the tone as to color the sound of the voice by every emotion we express with the face, unless, through our bad singing, we prevent these organs from expressing anything more than our embarrassment.

Those who have mastered breath-control and freedom of the throat and tongue are now in a position to add tone to the voice, through the loose, unrestrained condition of the space behind the tongue and the nasal cavities. The throat, in its normal state, and when we are asleep, is wide open, and only bad singing interferes with this. For some vowels the third space must undoubtedly be contracted somewhat temporarily, and, possibly, as we sing higher, there may be a corresponding modification of the third space; but all these changes are changes are unconscious, and in contortions of the bad singer, rather than imposed by these natural conditions, just as the unrestrained throat of the good singer leaves nature free to utter her loveliest tones. With the throat wide open the vowel sound which is emitted is “a.” This pure “a” was the goal toward which the Italian singers never ceased to advance, as affording the greatest test of tone and facility of pronunciation. As an aid to the freedom necessary to this perfect vowel the student was wont to practise a rapid tongue movement before the “a,” and the consonant “l” was generally adopted on account of its demanding a free movement of the whole tongue. On sounding “la” rapidly the inclination to stiffen the instrument was overcome. This sudden tongue movement when done with entire absence of hesitation, and in conjunction with the proper breathcontrol, became the foundation for the attack of the note, and the freedom and the richness of the “a” was found to depend upon its daring and spontaneity. The value of “La” as a foundation study can not be overestimated by the student. Freedom of the “la” [illustrating] throughout will discover a freedom of throat, an unconsciousness of tongue and jaw such as is not afforded by any other exercise.

Having brought you to the refrains of the old songs, permit me to sing you something which I trust may compensate you to some extent for what may have proved a lengthy exposition of the principles of voice-production. [Mr. Shakespeare then sang the following gipsy songs by Dvorak': “I Chant My Lay,” “Hark, How My Triangle,” “Silent and Lone," “Songs My Mother Taught Me,” and “ Tune Thy Strings, O Gipsy.”]

—”William Shakespeare on Respiration and the Vocal Organs,” Werner’s Magazine: A Magazine of Expression, February, 1900, page 609-617.