Lend Me A Tenor

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JONES in comment to "Stay Tuned", THIS BLOG:

"you really can't expect a good account of how the language works without getting into psychology. Body language might be one of these kinds of language, or, perhaps the language with which a great tenor moves our hearts (if we count these as languages)."

Having just referred to the 'established implicatures' of the middle finger, I guess it's just appropriate I move to the finer arts.

A tenor, all singers above, to echo Gilbert and Sullivan, makes, in my humble opinion -- I am one -- one gesture too many --His body language leaves a lot to be desired.

"I prefer NOT to see Caruso", my mother comments, as she deepens herself in gramophone recordings.

I share her inclination.

Verdi, and later Puccini, would often complain of tenors -- "They are just unbearable. They won't stick to the script".

Zara, in "Utopia Limited" by Gilbert and Sullivan, has a similar complain for Fitzbattleaxe:

"When the higher qualities of the heart are all that can be desired, the higher notes of the voice are matters of comparative insignificance. Who thinks slightingly of the cocoanut because it is husky? Besides (demurely), you are not singing for an engagement (putting her hand in his), you have that already."

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Grice has a good one here:

"His rendition of "Celeste Aida" corresponded pretty closely to Verdi's idea of the thing" (WoW:ii) adapted.

Grice is unaware of an ontological topic here.

"Celeste Aida" (Grice's example is "Home, Sweet Home", from Bishop's opera, "The Bohemian Girl" but a change of scenario should not matter) exists only in Verdi's mind.

But he needs a tenor to 'deliver' it.

When we say a tenor creates a role (as in this case, Radames) we _mean_ it: he sets the 'standard'.

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Appendix: from Gilbert/Sullivan, online at

http://web.mit.edu/gsp/www/Archive/1996spring_utopia/utopia8.html


Scene -- Throne Room in the Palace. Night. Fitzbattleaxe discovered,
singing to Zara.

RECITATIVE -- Fitzbattleaxe.

Oh, Zara, my beloved one, bear with me!
Ah, do not laugh at my attempted C!
Repent not, mocking maid, thy girlhood's choice--
The fervour of my love affects my voice!

SONG -- Fitzbattleaxe.

A tenor, all singers above
(This doesn't admit of a question),
Should keep himself quiet,
Attend to his diet
And carefully nurse his digestion;
But when he is madly in love
It's certain to tell on his singing--
You can't do the proper chromatics
With proper emphatics
When anguish your bosom is wringing!
When distracted with worries in plenty,
And his pulse is a hundred and twenty,
And his fluttering bosom the slave of mistrust is,
A tenor can't do himself justice,
Now observe--(sings a high note),
You see, I can't do myself justice!
I could sing if my fervour were mock,
It's easy enough if you're acting--
But when one's emotion
Is born of devotion
You mustn't be over-exacting.
One ought to be firm as a rock
To venture a shake in vibrato,
When fervour's expected
Keep cool and collected
Or never attempt agitato.
But, of course, when his tongue is of leather,
And his lips appear pasted together,
And his sensitive palate as dry as a crust is,
A tenor can't do himself justice.
Now observe--(sings a high note),
It's no use--I can't do myself justice!

Zara: Why, Arthur, what does it matter? When the higher qualities
of the heart are all that can be desired, the higher notes
of the voice are matters of comparative insignificance. Who
thinks slightingly of the cocoanut because it is husky? Be-
sides (demurely), you are not singing for an engagement
(putting her hand in his), you have that already!

Fitz.: How good and wise you are! How unerringly your practiced
brain winnows the wheat from the chaff--the material from
the merely incidental!

Zara: My Girton training, Arthur. At Girton all is wheat, and
idle chaff is never heard within its walls! But tell me, is
not all working marvelously well? Have not our Flowers of
Progress more than justified their name?

Fitz.: We have indeed done our best. Captain Corcoran and I have,
in concert, thoroughly remodeled the sister-services--and
upon so sound a basis that the South Pacific trembles at the
name of Utopia!

Zara: How clever of you!

Fitz.: Clever? Not a bit. It's easy as possible when the Admiral-
ty and Horse Guards are not there to interfere. And so with
the others. Freed from the trammels imposed upon them by
idle Acts of Parliament, all have given their natural tal-
ents full play and introduced reforms which, even in Eng-
land, were never dreamt of!

Zara: But perhaps the most beneficent changes of all has been ef-
fected by Mr. Goldbury, who, discarding the exploded theory
that some strange magic lies hidden in the number Seven, has
applied the Limited Liability principle to individuals, and
every man, woman, and child is now a Company Limited with
liability restricted to the amount of his declared Capital!
There is not a christened baby in Utopia who has not already
issued his little Prospectus!

Fitz.: Marvelous is the power of a Civilization which can trans-
mute, by a word, a Limited Income into an Income Limited.

Zara: Reform has not stopped here--it has been applied even to the
costume of our people. Discarding their own barbaric dress,
the natives of our land have unanimously adopted the taste-
ful fashions of England in all their rich entirety. Scaphio
and Phantis have undertaken a contract to supply the whole
of Utopia with clothing designed upon the most approved
English models--and the first Drawing-Room under the new
state of things is to be held here this evening.

Fitz.: But Drawing-Rooms are always held in the afternoon.

Zara: Ah, we've improved upon that. We all look so much better by
candlelight! And when I tell you, dearest, that my Court
train has just arrived, you will understand that I am long-
ing to go and try it on.

Fitz.: Then we must part?

Zara: Necessarily, for a time.

Fitz.: Just as I wanted to tell you, with all the passionate enthu-
siasm of my nature, how deeply, how devotedly I love you!

Zara: Hush! Are these the accents of a heart that really feels?
True love does not indulge in declamation--its voice is
sweet, and soft, and low. The west wind whispers when he
woos the poplars!

DUET -- Zara and Fitzbattleaxe.

Zara: Words of love too loudly spoken
Ring their own untimely knell;
Noisy vows are rudely broken,
Soft the song of Philomel.
Whisper sweetly, whisper slowly,
Hour by hour and day by day;
Sweet and low as accents holy
Are the notes of lover's lay.

Both: Sweet and low, etc.

Fitz: Let the conqueror, flushed with glory,
Bid his noisy clarions bray;
Lovers tell their artless story
In a whispered virelay.
False is he whose vows alluring
Make the listening echoes ring;
Sweet and low when all-enduring
Are the songs that lovers sing!

Both: Sweet and low, etc.