his very self. But since we must impersonate
human beings, we may not spare ourselves, but throw ourselves into our
task with the devotion of all our powers.

SECTION XXXVII

BEFORE THE PUBLIC

In the wide reaches of the theatre it is needful to give an
exaggeration to the expression, which in the concert hall, where the
forms of society rule, must be entirely abandoned. And yet the picture
must be presented by the artist to the public from the very first
word, the very first note; the mood must be felt in advance. This
depends partly upon the bearing of the singer and the expression of
countenance he has during the prelude, whereby interest in what is
coming is aroused and is directed upon the music as well as upon the
poem.

The picture is complete in itself; I have only to vivify its colors
during the performance. Upon the management of the body, upon the
electric current which should flow between the artist and the
public,--a current that often streams forth at his very appearance,
but often is not to be established at all,--depend the glow and
effectiveness of the color which we impress upon our picture.

No artist should be beguiled by this into giving forth more than
artistic propriety permits, either to enhance the enthusiasm or to
intensify the mood; for the electric connection cannot be forced.
Often a tranquillizing feeling is very soon manifest on both sides,
the effect of which is quite as great, even though less stimulating.
Often, too, a calm, still understanding between singer and public
exercises a fascination upon both, that can only be attained through a
complete devotion to the task in hand, and renunciation of any attempt
to gain noisy applause.

To me it is a matter of indifference whether the public goes frantic
or listens quietly and reflectively, for I give out only what I have
undertaken to. If I have put my individuality, my powers, my love for
the work, into a role or a song that is applauded by the public, I
decline all thanks for it to myself personally, and consider the
applause as belonging to the master whose work I am interpreting. If I
have succeeded in making him intelligible to the public, the reward
therefor is contained in that fact itself, and I ask for nothing more.

Of what is implied in the intelligent interpretation of a work of art,
as to talent and study, the public has no conception. Only they can
understand it whose lives have been devoted to the same idea