mental," which Mme. d'Arona reports in his tone, I fear that Mme. d'Arona's conception of fundamental tone is a trifle vague, as the infallible photograph has always shown in this singer's tone an unusually powerful fundamental, and I have never heard him sing a tone in which that was not decidedly the predominant element.

Many more of the arguments and the objections put forth by the various participants in this discussion, I would be glad to answer in detail, but have already taken up too much space. I will, however, willingly discuss these points in person with anyone who cares to know more of the practical value of the work.

PROF. ALFRED A. NORTH AND

JUSTUS ABNER, London.

A short answer to the question, "What Have the Laryngoscope and Photography Done for the Art of Singing," is that no thorough knowledge of any science can be gained by merely drawing deductions from the observation of effects, and assuming these to be the causes; and this is all that it is possible for either the laryngoscope or photography to do for the science of voice-training. To get at the root of any science, a full appreciation of the prime cause constituting that science must be had. The study of effects merely will lead to nothing but endless speculation and vexatious confusion. It has been ever thus with regard to the vocal art and the attempts that have been made to mould the enormous mass of recorded phenomena into a tangible science.

Before it can be understood what should take place when the phenomenon of voice transpires, it is first necessary to know exactly what the voice really is; not alone how it is produced, but also of what it really consists. Now, the intrinsic essence of all voice, everyone will admit, is

sound; but then comes the question: What is sound? Is it merely what we have always been taught to believe it-the effect of vibration; or, is vibration the effect of a power we have not understood but recognized only as a phenomenon called "sound ?" Unquestionably the latter is the case. Sound in the abstract is the underlying principle of the voice, just as intellect is the underlying principle of the mind. Sound in the abstract is a real existing power-an entity of the universe. This entity expressed is motion. Motion is the cause of all figure; i.e., the result of this motion or vibration is all physical creation. This creation, of course, all takes place unconscious to the human ear, which we know is so formed as to be incapable of detecting a sound containing over some 40,000 vibrations a second. The existence of those animal organisms-the larynx and the ear-for the sole purposes, respectively, of expressing and of recognizing sound is proof that the principle of sound existed prior to their formation, and before we were conscious of any

motion or

vibration sufficient to make us sensible of that phenomenon which we call "sound." That phenomenon is merely a reflection or an effect of the abstract principle or entity of sound, which is its cause.

The phenomenon of voice has been treated as if it was the result of a purely physical action, or perhaps, with some few masters, as if, as it were, three-fourths mechanical and possibly one-fourth psychical; whereas the facts are just the reverse; for just as the mind or spirituality of the individual is by far the most real thing of that personality, and as the voice is nothing but that personality expressed, so, therefore, the cause behind the effect is much more mental than physical.

We are a bifold unity of existence,material and immaterial-each phase,

consequently, being essential to the other in order to sustain this twofold unity. But the one part is the creative power, the other is only the creation. The voice is the audible expression of the unity; and, consequently, the means of that expression is born of the intellectual phase or creative power-the mind, while the physical organism is merely the medium used thereby through which the reality announces itself. Hence, all physical action is effect merely of the greater underlying principle which operates and combats it. Thus, the intrinsic essence of the voice, as we have said, is sound. This sound is not created when we use our voice; but is only made manifest to our senses then. The sound itself is always with us it is, in fact, a part of our very being. Silence is impossible.

When, therefore, we use our voices, it should be fully realized that we are not creating sound; but that we are simply a medium or process of expression acknowledging the everlasting existence of a never-failing power. This is the grand ideal to be held before the mental vision by those who would use their voices truthfully and aright. And not an ideal merely, but in the laws arising from the fixed principles in nature, which dictate that this is so, will be found the only sure guiding rules to the production of perfect voice. They form a system which will be found in practice to be the only standard whereby all shades and descriptions of voices can be culti vated and trained on universal lines; not only because the resultant technique of detail is necessarily consistent in itself, but also because this must agree throughout, and be in strict conformity to those first and greater principles from which it is evolved.

To come, therefore, more directly to the question at issue, and to take

a more practical view of it, we would say that however useful the laryngoscope is to the surgeon, and photography for many different purposes, neither is of any practical utility in furthering the art of voice-training; not only because, as we have already said, voice-production is more of a psychical effort than a physical effect, but also because much of that effect is not what has been generally supposed. To instance one important point: Voice is not even the immediate result of vibrations of the vocal cords, but the agitation of the molecular atoms of the vocalized column of compressed breath excited by, and liberated through, those marvelous cords.

Again, the laryngoscope investigates only a part, and by far the smallest part, of the so-called vocal mechanism. The throat and the larynx are certainly essential parts of the body in the expression of voice, but they are really only minor parts. The effort of perfect voice calls on every part of the animal organism to contribute to the effort. Voice being individuality and maturity expressed, all the vital organs of the body are engaging in that effort of expression; because expression is essentially a creation. The greater controls the less, and if the principal parts of the organism are rightly directed, the minor mechanisms must conform. Hence, it is not only idle but disastrous to attempt to control and to exercise isolated, specific and individual parts of an organization to independent articulation, and generally to foreign, erroneous, and ineffectual action.

J. MCCOMBIE MURRAY, New York.

Having attended Prof. Hallock and Dr. Muckey's demonstrations at Columbia University last season, I have found the above question of engrossing interest to me as a student of voice-production and a teacher of

As I understand it, Prof. Hallock and Dr. Muckey represent the artisan as the sculptor represents the artist in clay. The oft-repeated assertion that the laryngoscope and the camera will never make an artist is analogous to telling us that the knowledge of clay, or the means of acquiring that knowledge, will never make a sculptor. Who would be so foolish as to question the latter statement? On the other hand, can we not recognize the difference between scientific truth and art? Is not the sculptor dependent upon the science of the artisan (who provides the material upon which he employs his art) to some extent ? You tell me the sculptor can tell good clay by "the feel," possibly the sight, and possibly from other signs of quality. But let me ask anyone who may read my writing, would he not be considered wiser to trust to the analysis of the clay he means to mould, as handed over to him by a trusted artisan ? One might say that the sculptor should be the judge, which is very true. His judgment of the clay, however, might be faulty, unless founded upon experience. He might build his model to appear well at first, but of material that is subject to dry too quickly and crack.

H

Anyhow, the sculptor should study the nature of the material he works with, not as the creator of an artist, but as a subject of analysis.

"artis

Mme. Lankow refers to an tically" perfect tone. I suppose we all have our interpretation of what is meant, yet how many definitions of what this tone represents could be said to agree were the question as to its meaning put to the profession individually? Mr. Werner could not champion a more-called-for want than he suggests when he mentions an "intelligible nomenclature," and if he undertakes such a work (as he is in a position to do), he will have to leave the artist alone, and consult the scientist and his dictionary, or fail in the attempt.

For the definition of a perfect tone we appeal to science and to science only. Artistic employment of tone is never wittingly sacrificed by any true artist. Perfect oratory is based upon perfect tone-production; and melody (always present in true oratory) is subject to the first laws of oratory.

Again, we talk of perfect tone and assume that only one tone can be perfect. Possibly an "artistically perfect tone may be subject to definition, and if so, I, for one, would be glad to have a more explicit understanding of what is meant. A reed tone to be perfect must be out of tune and perfectly so, for it can be analyzed. If its composition is the same as the voice or the string tone, it is not a reed tone. We recognize what a reed tone means, and are satisfied. Vocalists have no interest in reed tones, however, and therefore to enlarge would be out of order.

E drew his breath with a gasping sob, With a quavering voice he sang; But his voice leaked out and could not drown

The accompanist's clamorous bang.

He lost his pitch on the middle A,
And faltered on lower D-

And he foundered at length like a battered wreck,

Adrift on the wild, high C!

T°

O the teacher, reader, actor, lecturer, preacher, singer, pantomimist, to everyone, in short, who makes appeal through the eye or the ear to the intellectual nature of man, a knowledge of psychology is one of the essentials of success. To be sure, a certain amount of success is reached by happy accident; a still larger amount is secured by intuition (and we can not ignore the fact that the natural intuition of some persons is far more valuable than the acquired information of others); still more is gained by some acquaintance with cause and effect in mental processes; but unvarying success in this direction can be depended upon only when absolute knowledge furnishes its foundation. Teacher, reader, actor, and all the rest, must constantly appeal to the fancy and the imagination; to the emotional and the imitative nature; to the faculty of comparison and of deduction; to the sense of humor; to the appreciation of all intellectual effort and excellence. The success with which we can do this depends largely upon our knowledge of psychology. It behooves us, therefore, to increase this knowledge as rapidly as possible, on precisely the same principle as a merchant seeks to enlarge his stock in trade, or a banker to swell his capital.

The eyes of man's intelligence have heretofore been wholly closed or only partly opened. All his tory testifies to the fact, and the present gives daily and hourly indication of it. Our society, our systems of medication, education, theology, charities and corrections, our

entire civilization, in fact,―great as has been the advance from actual barbarism -all show with what blind or distorted vision man has been able thus far to see, how impossible it has been for him to foresee. But it is to his credit that he is in large measure willing to acknowledge his defects of vision, while constantly struggling to see farther and more clearly.

Psychology can not yet properly be spoken of as a science, for science is "a knowledge of principles and causes; ascertained truths or facts." Our knowledge of mental principles and causes is exceedingly limited, and many matters which we have abundant reason to believe are "truths or facts" are not yet so fully ascertained or demonstrated as to warrant their acceptance as such. No fact, however, in the intellectual world is more gratifying than that multitudes of our brightest scholars are laboring to acquire a knowledge of these principles, causes, and truths. The very modesty of the claims so far made proves that the majority of these workers have the teachable and, consequently, the true scholarly spirit. They are watchful, conscientious, patient, showing no prejudice, narrowness, or dogmatism. It is not too much to believe that before the end of another century there will be in existence, thanks to the labors of these men and women, what can legitimately be called a science of psychology, which will prove as useful to the world as the science of mathematics.

Whatever advancement has been made in the direction of psychologi

cal knowledge has been the result of patient and painstaking observation of phenomena, investigation of causes, comparison of facts, and deductions therefrom. This work has been done mainly by teachers, as was natural. What other class of the world's workers have so lively an interest in the determination of the value of the various mental factors with which the teacher must hourly deal? But it is a fact to be deplored that so few have undertaken any work of this kind. Too many are satisfied with superficiality, both in methods and in results. We realize most painfully that the word "elocution" is assumed by a vast number of persons, even among the cultured and liberal-minded, to be almost an exact synonym for our colloquial and contemptuous "humbug."

In

Yet there is no line of educational work which affords so large an opportunity or so wide a scope for the most thorough and satisfactory kind of psychological study as that followed by the elocutionist, the teacher of reading and of dramatic art. struction in grammar, arithmetic, geography, history, languages, and the sciences makes no demand upon the pupil except so far as reason and memory are concerned, this last being considered the main element in all present systems of education. But in the work attempted by the elocutionist there is no physical, mental, or spiritual power which can for a moment be ignored; for body as well as brain and soul, soul as well as brain and body, must be reached and stimulated before any symmetrical development is possible.

There is, therefore, practically an unlimited field for observation, comparison, and deduction in the elocutionary profession, because it deals so directly with the whole human. organism, the physical, emotional, imaginative, and spiritual, as well as the intellectual being. The elocutionist must understand, as no other

teacher is compelled to do, the psychology of certain mental manifestations, a knowledge of which would go far to simplify the work of teaching in all other directions.

The different phases of stammering, stuttering, and similar defects of speech, when not wholly due to physiological causes, demand, in the name of humanity, the most careful and conscientious study. Fear, timidity, self-consciousness are all great stumbling-blocks in the way of individual progress, not only in education, but in society, in business, in every relation of life. How valuable would be the analysis which could result in removing these obstacles from our path! The rousing of the imagination, of the appreciation of humor, of the sense of rhythm, of relation, and proportion,-there is really no limit to the ends desired in elocutionary training more than in any other one educational direction.

Recognition of this fact brings with it recognition of another, viz., that the teacher of elocution is peculiarly privileged to observe and to deduce from his observations much that would prove invaluable not only in his individual work, not only for the benefit of his own profession, but also for all teachers in whatever line, and that he can make valuable contribution to the data now being gathered for the future formulation of one of the grandest sciences under the sun.

One can not read without a sympathetic thrill these suggestive words of Zola's: "Ah, these sciences that are yet in their infancy, in which hypothesis speaks stammeringly and imagination rules, these are the domain of the poet as much as of the scientist. Poets go as pioneers in the advance guard, and they often discover new countries, suggesting solutions. There is a borderland which belongs to them, between the conquered, the definitive truth, and the unknown, whence the truth of to-morrow will be born."