Learning and teaching to hear is the first task of both pupil and teacher. One is impossible without the other. It is the most difficult as well as the most grateful task, and it is the only way to reach perfection.
Even if the pupil unconsciously should produce a flawless tone, it is the teacher's duty to acquaint him clearly with the causes of it. It is not enough to sing well; one must also know how one does it. The teacher must tell the pupil constantly, making him describe clearly his sensations in singing, and understand fully the physiological factors that coöperate to produce them.
The sensations in singing must coincide with mine as here described, if they are to be considered as correct; for mine are based logically on physiological causes and correspond precisely with the operation of these causes. Moreover, all my pupils tell me—often, to be sure, not till many months have passed—how exact my explanations are; how accurately, on the strength of them, they have learned to feel the physiological processes. They have learned, slowly, to be sure, to become conscious of their errors and false impressions; for it is very difficult to ascertain such mistakes and false adjustments of the organs. False sensations in singing and disregarded or false ideas of physiological processes cannot immediately be stamped out. A long time is needed for the mind to be able to form a clear image of those processes, and not till then can knowledge and improvement be expected. The teacher must repeatedly explain the physiological processes, the pupil repeatedly disclose every confusion and uncertainty he feels, until the perfect consciousness of his sensations in singing is irrevocably impressed upon his memory, that is, has become a habit.
Among a hundred singers hardly one can be found whose single tones meet every requirement. And among a thousand listeners, even among teachers, and among artists, hardly one hears it.
I admit that such perfect tones sometimes, generally quite unconsciously, are heard from young singers, and especially from beginners, and never fail to make an impression. The teacher hears that they are good, so does the public. Only a very few know why, even among singers, because only a very few know the laws governing perfect tone production. Their talent, their ear perchance, tell them the truth; but the causes they neither know nor look for.
On such "unconscious singing" directors, managers, and even conductors, build mistakenly their greatest hopes. No one hears what is lacking, or what will soon be lacking, and all are surprised when experienced singers protest against it.
They become enthusiastic, properly, over beautiful voices, but pursue quite the wrong path in training them for greater tasks. As soon as such persons are obtained, they are immediately bundled into all rôles; they have hardly time to learn one rôle by heart, to say nothing of comprehending it and working it up artistically. The stars must shine immediately! But with what resources? With the fresh voice alone? Who is there to teach them to use their resources on the stage? Who to husband them for the future? The manager? the director? Not at all. When the day comes that they can no longer perform what, not they themselves, but the directors, expected of them, they are put to one side, and if they do not possess great energy and strength, often entirely succumb. They could not meet the demands made upon them, because they did not know how to use their resources.
I shall be told that tones well sung, even unconsciously, are enough. But that is not true. The least unfavorable circumstance, over-exertion, indisposition, an unaccustomed situation, anything can blow out the "unconscious" one's light, or at least make it flicker badly. Of any self-help, when there is ignorance of all the fundamentals, there can be no question. Any help is grasped at. Then appears the so-called (but false) "individuality," under whose mask so much that is bad presents itself to art and before the public.
This is not remarkable, in view of the complexity of the phenomena of song. Few teachers concern themselves with the fundamental studies; they often do not sing at all themselves, or they sing quite wrongly; and consequently can neither describe the vocal sensations nor test them in others. Theory alone is of no value whatever. With old singers the case is often quite the contrary—so both seize whatever help they can lay hold of. The breath, that vibrates against the soft palate, when it is raised, or behind it in the cavities of the head, produces whirling currents through its continuous streaming forth and its twofold division. These currents can circulate only in unbroken completeness of form. The longer their form remains unimpaired, and the more economically the continuous breath pressure is maintained, the less breath do these currents need, the less is emitted unused from the mouth.
If an elastic form is found in the mouth in which the currents can circulate untouched by any pressure or undue contraction or expansion of it, the breath becomes practically unlimited. That is the simple solution of the paradox that without deep breathing one may often have much breath, and, after elaborate preparations, often none at all; because the chief attention is generally directed to inhalation, instead of to the elastic forming of the organs for the breath, sound currents, and tone. The one thing needed is the knowledge of the causes, and the necessary skill in preparing the form, avoiding all pressure that could injure it, whether originating in the larynx, tongue, or palate, or in the organs that furnish the breath pressure.