s actor as well as singer, and in this direction
more--much more--is now demanded of him than formerly. But to those
possessed of what is known as the Instinct of the Theatre, or Scenic
Instinct, the gestures and attitudes of the operatic stage, being
largely conventional, are soon acquired. Scenic accomplishments are
undoubtedly necessary to the stage-singer, but his mimetic studies
should not preclude him from making himself a thorough master of the
vocal side of his art. There is a difference between an actor who
sings, and a singer who acts.

Besides the mimetic faculty, certain physical gifts are also needed by
the opera-singer, according to the requirements of the line of roles
to which he is inevitably assigned by the nature and type of his
particular voice. It is true that stage artifice has now reached great
perfection; but it has its limits, and cannot accomplish miracles.

It requires much imagination and great generosity on the part of the
public to accept a tenor, whose waist-girth would not unfit him for
the part of Sir John Falstaff, as a youthful and romantic Romeo, or a
half-starved and emaciated Rodolphe. Illusion is rudely shaken, if not
absolutely dispelled, in witnessing a soprano, whose age and
_embonpoint_ are fully in evidence, impersonate a girlish Gilda or a
consumptive Traviata. Such discrepancies may be overlooked by the
public in the case of old established favourites, but it would be
unfortunate for the debutant to commence with these drawbacks. And yet
there have been a few famous artists whose extraordinary vocal talent
atoned for other very pronounced defects. Such an one was the
Pisaroni, a celebrated contralto, said to have been so ill-favoured
that she always forwarded her likeness to any opera director to whom
she was personally unknown, who offered her an engagement. But so
exceptional were her voice and talent, that certain of her
contemporary artists have declared that by the time Pisaroni had
reached the end of her first phrase, the public was already conquered.

As personal preference is very often mistaken for aptitude or natural
fitness, a lyric artist is not always the best judge as to which of
the roles in his repertoire are really fitted to display his abilities
to the best advantage. The singer combines in himself both instrument
and performer; therefore he rarely, if ever, hears himself quite as
does another person. Until possessed of the ripened judgment gained by
exp