The second evil endangers even the male voice, which is able to endure much ill-treatment; while the female voice is quickly forced by it into a piercing shrillness, or is driven back into the throat, soon to be entirely exhausted, or is, at least, prevented from attaining a natural, fine development.  This second evil is the reckless and destructive straining of single tones to their extreme limits, even to perfect exhaustion.  The poor singer urges and squeezes out the voice, and quivers to the innermost marrow, in order that the two requirements of “Boldness” and “Power” may be satisfied.  But the “Spirit” is still wanting, which should be shown in a light and well-shaded delivery.  The effect of extreme shading, however, is accomplished in a single “romanza.”  The unfortunate, misdirected singer, who must aim at effect, lays out so much force on single tones, or even on whole lines, and that, too, in the best register of his voice (the other registers do not permit this), that the succeeding tones are forced to retire powerless into the throat; and the beautiful, fresh, youthful tenor or bass voice concludes with exhausted groaning and mere speaking tones.  The “romanza” is now at an end, and certainly “Boldness, Spirit, and Power” have worked in union.  The task is executed the better, because a rude accompaniment has probably sustained the singer in a most striking manner, and has completed the total effect.

By such management, to which I must emphatically add the continual holding of the tones, even in the forte, voices are expected “to come out,” to be developed, inspired, and made beautiful.  What healthy ear can endure such enormities in tone formation, such tortures in singing?  These, then, are the modern contributions for the embellishment of art!  A curse on these evil spirits!  If my feeble pen shall assist in bringing such singing-teachers to their senses, and shall help to save only a few of our fine voices, I shall consider my mission fulfilled, and the aim of this book, so far as it concerns singing, accomplished.

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I have heretofore combated many prejudices, both in earnest and in sport, successfully and unsuccessfully; but one I find very obstinate,—­it has pursued me incessantly for years.  A piano-player, with a rigid, strained, and vicious touch, proceeding from the arm, may play a great deal, but his playing is thoroughly vulgar and without beauty.  He feels this himself, and the playing of my pupils pleases him better.  He wishes me to change his style to their better manner; but he still continues to pound, to bang, to exaggerate, and to play in his own way, and only wishes his style to be improved, and his power of execution to be increased.  If a performer of this sort is not much more than twenty years of age, something may yet be done for the improvement of his touch, and consequently of his style of playing; but this is only possible by laying aside all his