In my practice I have become convinced that every impairment of
the voice is due to outraged nature, resulting in a physiological
condition of the vocal organs that should not exist, and, in turn,
inducing a psychological condition, such as worry and despondency, which
also should not exist. By discovering with the aid of the laryngoscope
the physiological defect and removing it, body, and, with it, mind and
voice are restored to their proper condition. But if the singer goes
back to a teacher whose method is wrong, the same impairment, or even
worse, will result.

Jean de Reszke is a perfect example of how a singer can develop his voice
when he turns from a wrong method to a right one. This celebrated tenor
actually thought he was a baritone, and so did his teacher. He was
trained as a baritone, made his debut in a baritone role and sang as a
baritone for several years. But he experienced great fatigue in singing,
much greater fatigue than seemed proper or necessary. This led him
eventually to have his voice tested by another teacher, who discovered
that he was a tenor. Singing with the wrong voice, which also means
with a wrong method, had exhausted him. As a tenor his beautiful
voice-production, based on a correct physiological method, made him
equally at home and equally at ease in roles making the most opposite
demands upon his powers. He sang equally well in Gounod and Wagner;
and in Wagner, whether he was singing the young Siegfried, Siegfried of
"Goetterdaemmerung," or Tristan.

The proper coordination of all the parts of the physical vocal apparatus
with the powers of mind and emotion, is what in the end constitutes the
perfect singer, and that proper coordination has, as its first basis, a
due regard for the physiology of voice-production as well, of course,
as for the general rules of health. In Gilbert and Sullivan's "Mikado,"
Nanki Poo, hearing a tomtit by the river reiterating a colorless "tit
willow," asks the bird if its foolish song is due to a feeble mind or
a careless diet.

"Is it weakness of intellect,
Birdie," I cried,
"Or a rather tough worm
In your little inside?"
But all that the dear little birdie replied,
Was, "Willow, Tit Willow, Tit Willow."

Colloquially expressed, what Mr. Nanki Poo asked the bird was as
follows: "Being gifted by nature with a perfect larynx, which should
enable you to sing beautifully, do you confine yourself to singing a
colorless 'Tit Wil