Rules for Intensity of Sound.
1. The strength of the voice is in an inverse ratio to the respiration. The more we are moved, the less loudly we speak; the less the emotion, the stronger the voice. In emotion, the heart seems to mount to the larynx, and the voice is stifled. A soft tone should always be an affecting tone, and consist only of a breath. Force is always opposed to power. It is an error to suppose that the voice must be increased as the heart is laid bare. The lowest tones are the best understood. If we would make a low voice audible, let us speak as softly as we can.
Go to the sea-shore when the tempest rages. The roar of the waves as they break against the vessel’s side, the muttering thunders, the furious wind-gusts render the strongest voice impotent. Go upon a battle-field when drums beat and trumpets sound. In the midst of this uproar, these discordant cries, this tumult of opposing armies, the leader’s commands, though uttered in the loudest tones, can scarce be heard; but a low whistle will be distinctly audible. The voice is intense in serenity and calm, but in passion it is weak.
Let those who would bring forward subtle arguments against this law, remember that logic is often in default when applied to artistic facts.
A concert is given in a contracted space, with an orchestra and a double-bass. The double-bass is very weak. Logic would suggest two double-basses in order to produce a stronger tone. Quite the contrary. Two double-basses give only a semitone, which half a double-bass renders of itself. So much for logic in this case.
The greatest joy is in sorrow, for here there is the greatest love. Other joys are only on the surface. We suffer and we weep because we love. Of what avail are tears? The essential thing is to love. Tears are the accessories; they will come in time, they need not be sought. Nothing so wearies and disgusts us, as the lachrymose tone. A man who amounts to anything is never a whimperer.
Take two instruments in discord and remote from each other. Logic forbids their approach lest their tones become more disagreeable. The reverse is true. In bringing them together, the lowest becomes higher and the highest lower, and there is an accord.
Let us suppose a hall with tapestries, a church draped in black. Logic says, “sing more loudly.” But this must be guarded against lest the voice become lost in the draperies. The voice should scarce reach these too heavy or too sonorous partitions, but leaving the lips softly, it should pulsate through the audience, and go no farther.
An audience is asleep. Logic demands more warmth, more fire. Not at all. Keep silent and the sleepers will awaken.