individual voices is of course much smaller, the average being probably of little more than two octaves. A range of three octaves is exceptional, and one of four almost prodigious.

Woman's voice is higher in pitch than man's because her vocal cords are smaller; the difference in timbre on the other hand depends on the difference in the size of the resonance chambers, and in the density of their walls. Up to the so-called "cracking" period the boy's voice is undistinguishable from the woman's except by its comparative lack of richness and volume, and above all by its want of soul. The boy's voice, even when most beautiful, is to the woman's what new wine without body or bouquet is to a rich ripe Burgundy made fragrant and mellow by the subtle chemistry of Time. I a am not, however, dealing with the voice from the æsthetic point of view. My present object is the humbler one of explaining in a way which the least scientific reader can understand the physiology of the voice, and the means whereby such a variety of tones is got out of so small an instrument.

To

Though all observers are agreed as to the conditions necessary for simple phonation, or the act of sounding the voice, there is much difference of opinion as to how modification of pitch is brought about, and it may be said that the higher up the scale we go the more obscure does the problem become. speak figuratively, philosophers agree as much as can be expected of their kind about the voice on the level plain, but halfway up the hill-side they begin to call names, and at the top they come to blows. In truth the subject is not an easy one, and Nature, though crossexamined in the cleverest way, seems loth to disclose her secret. The view which I am about to propound has nothing particularly original about it, and I do not wish it to be considered a master-key which will unlock every mysterious recess of the subject. I merely offer it as what may be called the solid residue after the various theories have been submitted to the flame of criticism, and their gaseous elements (which are largely in excess) dispersed.

For the production of voice three things are necessary: (1) a column of air blown upwards with sufficient force by the lungs ; (2) approximation of the vocal cords so that the air-current may strike against them; (3)' a sufficient degree of tension of the cords to make them quiver with the shock of the air rushing through the chink. If the blast is too weak or the opening too wide, or the membranous lips not tightly enough stretched, there can be no sound above a

whisper. In the delivery of low notes the cords are in a state of comparative relaxation, and with each rise of pitch there is a corresponding increase of tension up to a certain point, beyond which the voice cannot be forced unless a different mode of production is adopted. The change is accompanied with a feeling of relief, as if an overbent bow were suddenly unstrung; if, however, the pitch still goes on rising, the sensation of strain again begins to make itself felt until a point is finally reached which it is found utterly impossible by any effort to pass. The "break" marks the division between two parts or "registers" of the voice, and it occurs, not, as generally stated, at or near one definite fixed point in the musical scale, but at or about the same relative level in all voices. According to modern singing-masters there are several such "breaks" in every voice; some are satisfied with three, whilst others bewilder their pupils and themselves with five. One might almost fancy that this notion of vocal ascent was founded on the analogy of a zigzag pathway up a steep incline. I do not doubt that these refinements have their use in art, but science must dismiss them as needless complications of a problem. which is quite puzzling enough in itself.

There are then two fundamental divisions of the human singing voice. They are usually called "chest " and "head" registers, but it would be much better to call them simply "lower" and "upper," as much of the confusion which surrounds the subject has arisen from want of precision in the use of words. I take this opportunity of remarking that by the term "register" I mean the series of tones of like quality producible by adjustment of the lips of the glottis according to a certain distinctive type. When the particular mechanism employed will carry the voice no further, a device is resorted to whereby it is as it were hoisted up and started anew on a higher level. If I may speak aquatically, a register is a vocal reach, whilst the passage from one register to another may be compared to a lock. The break, or, to carry on the metaphor, the weir, occurs as already said, much about the same distance from the mouth in each river of vocal sound. In the male voice, however, most of the notes belong to the "lower" register, whilst in the female there is a greater range in the "upper." The so-called falsetto I look upon as being an unnatural method of voice-production whereby men imitate the head tones of the female voice. The term is altogether misleading when used as it generally is to denote a legitimate

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register. As regards the female voice the expression has, properly speaking, no meaning, and should therefore be abandoned; and with reference to the male voice, it should be restricted to the designation of notes not only of a particular pitch but of a special unnatural timbre which is generally at once recognisable by the ordinary musical ear. Between the lower and upper registers a middle one may for the sake of convenience be allowed, as in many voices the first few notes above the ordinary "break" are altogether different in quality from those of either the "lower" or upper" series. Singers as a rule feel that they do not deliver their "high" notes in the same way as those in the "lower" register, and their hearers are also sometimes aware of an objective difference in the quality of the two sets of notes. Whilst the low tones are fuller, stronger, easier to hold, and accompanied with shaking of the chest-walls, and a "wound-up" sensation in the larynx, the upper are softer, thinner, difficult to sing loud, give rise to no thoracic vibration, and to comparatively little feeling of tension. within the larynx, but are generally associated with a marked sense of constriction above it.

How then is the difference brought about? This has always been the crux of investigators. Experiments have been made upon dead men and living dogs (would Madame Nilsson, by the way, allow that the mechanism of a cur's yelp is likely to throw light on the production of her perfect tones ?); analogy more headstrong than Mrs. Malaprop's

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allegory" has run riot among musical instruments; the scientific use of the imagination has been practised to an extent probably undreamed of by Professor Tyndall; the throats of singers have been scanned with the laryngoscope as attentively as the spots on the sun have been scrutinised with the telescope, the dissecting knife has done its best, and the photographic camera its worst-all this expenditure of energy has been very inadequately rewarded in the way of solid result. A remarkable feature in the dispute is the completeness with which each theory is upset in turn, and the absolute contradiction as to facts is still more curious. It would only confuse the reader's mind, and disgust him with the whole subject to set forth the various opinions in detail. I therefore only give them in rough outline. The false vocal cords have been supposed to be concerned in the production of " high," as the true are in the delivery of "low," tones; the gradual tightening and approximation of the walls of the larynx

above the vocal ligaments has been suggested as the characteristic appearance in "high production; and again there is what may be called the respectable orthodox view that the whole cord vibrates in "low" and only its edge in "high" notes. Lately it has been given out, in something of the Bos locutus est tone, that the change is due to a modification of the vocal lips, which are said to be "thick" in the deeper, "thin" in the middle, and "small" in the upper notes. Without stopping to discuss any of these theories, I proceed at once to state my own view, which is briefly that the change is due essentially to the substitution of a "short" for a "long" reed in the mouth-piece of the vocal instrument, that is to say, the glottis. Other accessory changes there are no doubt, both in the larynx itself and the cavities above it, but these are incidental, and affect only the timbre, or co-operate in the general result. It is an elementary principle in physics that the longer the reed the slower is its vibration, and consequently the lower its note. The pitch may be raised by simply augmenting the force of the blast. As this involves increase of tension, it is obvious that when the cord is stretched to its maximum no further heightening of pitch can occur. The difficulty is overcome by the simple expedient of shortening the vibrating part of the cord when the process is repeated da capo but with less wind power. The modification of the reed is effected by a method analogous to the "stopping" of a violin-string with the finger. The two cords are pressed together for a certain amount of their length so tightly as to "jam" or check each other's vibration at the point of contact. This usually occurs at the posterior part of the glottic slit, and as much as one-third or even more of the vocal lip may be stopped. In certain cases there is a mutual checking action in front as well, so that the vibrating part of the glottis is reduced to an oval opening situated nearer the front than the back, and gradually diminishing till the upper limit of the voice is reached. The difference in compass between one voice and another depends on the extent to which this " "stopping manœuvre can be performed, and that of course will vary ad infinitum according to differences of structure which are mostly too minute to be recognised in dissection. Practically no two larynxes are alike, just as no two faces exactly resemble each other. To sum up, we may say that in the "lower (chest) register the whole reed vibrates, and pitch rises with increase of blast, and corresponding increase of tension, whilst in the

"upper" (head) register the pitch is raised by gradual shortening of the reed.1 It follows that in the latter the blast must become progressively weaker, and this is why it is impossible to deliver true head notes fortissimo and difficult to sing them even forte. Exceptional voices are sometimes met with in which, from extraordinary elasticity of the vocal cords, the entire compass can be delivered in the "long reed" or chest register. This singolarissimo dono, as Mancini calls it, is more common in women than in men, and for the vast majority of mankind a "break" at some point or other is the rule. Accordingly the first and most important duty of the teacher is to "unite" the registers, dovetailing them into each other, and as it were planing the surface of sound till the voice is uniform throughout the whole compass.

The timbre is the special quality by which each voice can be distinguished from all others; in a word, its physiognomy. It depends not on the vocal cords themselves, but on the configuration and structural peculiarities of the parts above the larynx proper. It has been shown by Helmholtz that no note is simply one sound, but is in reality made up of several others of higher pitch. These occur at definite intervals from the primary tone and are called its harmonics. Now the laryngeal ventricles, the pharynx, the mouth and the nasal passages, with the various cavities in the bones of the face which communicate therewith, are all resonators, and each resonator has a natural pitch of its own which makes it vibrate sympathetically when a tone of that pitch is sounded. The difference of timbre therefore depends on the number of harmonics belonging to each laryngeal note, and on the extent to which they are strengthened by reinforce

1 My views, which are founded on careful examination of many of the best singers of the day (including Mesdames Nilsson, Albani, Patey, Signor Foli, the late Mr. Maas, and many others), will be given in full detail in a book which is already in the press (Hygiene of the Vocal Organs a Practical Handbook for Singers and Speakers. Macmillan and Co.).

ment from the resonance chambers. Timbre is thus a natural endowment which cannot be acquired, or even cultivated to any great extent. The singer is supposed to start provided with a good instrument, just as the violinist has his Straduarius or Guarnerius perfect in construction, and with all its parts ripened by time into harmonious sweetness of tone.

Given the instrument, however, the use of it has to be learnt, and the technique of the vocal organ is not less difficult than that of the violin. The art of singing consists in, first, proper management of the motive power, the breath, so that its delivery shall be perfectly under control, and not a particle of it be wasted. Secondly, exact adjustment of the membranous lips of the glottis in such a manner as to catch the outrushing stream of air just in the right way, that is to say, they must not close too soon so as to imprison the air, nor too late so as to allow any portion of it to escape fruitlessly. Thirdly, mastery over the laryngeal muscles, which are, as it were, the fingers by which the instrument is played. Each of these factors must be developed separately to the fullest possible extent, and drilled so as to work together in perfect concert. In this, as in all the imitative arts, assiduous practice and conscientious study of good models form the only true method of work. Some slight knowledge of the structure of the vocal machinery may be advantageous to the singer by teaching him to take more care of it than he might otherwise think it worth while to do, but the smattering of universal science to which so much importance is now attached in certain quarters is quite unnecessary, and is, in fact, more a hindrance than a help. Let the pupil leave the scalpel and the laryngoscope to doctors, and cultivate the powers of his voice as the pugilist develops his arms or the runner his legs, without caring to know the details of the mechanism which his will sets in motion, and which trained instinct will manage better than the most exact anatomical and physiological knowledge.

MORELL MACKENZIE.