ve and obedient. And
then _listening_ and _doing_ are inseparably joined. Tone-listening
makes us self-critical and observant, and we are assured by men of
science that unless we become good observers in our early years, it is
later impossible for us.[16]

In the previous Talk we spoke about listening to all kinds of sounds,
particularly those out-of-doors. In this Talk we shall speak only of
real music-listening. You know, now, that music born out of the heart
is the thought of a good man. Of course, beautiful thoughts of any
kind should be listened to not only with attention, but with
reverence. Reverence is the tribute which the thoughtful listener pays
to the music of a man who has expressed himself beautifully in tone.
This at once reveals to us that we should listen to what is great for
the purpose of getting ideals. We hear what we hope to attain. It is
said of the violinist, Pierre Baillot, that when only ten years of age
he heard the playing of Viotti, and though he did not hear it again
for twenty years the performance ever remained in his mind as an ideal
to be realized in his studies, and he worked to attain it.

The pupils of the great Viennese teacher of the piano, Theodor
Leschetizky, say he asks no question more frequently than "Can you not
hear?" It is not only difficult to listen to ourselves, but listening
is one thing and decidedly a superior thing, while hearing is another
and equally inferior thing. And it shows us, when we think of it, that
no self-criticism is possible until we forget all things else and
listen to what we are doing and listen with concentration. It now
becomes clear to us that no one becomes an intelligent musician who is
not skilled in tone sense, in listening, and having thoughts about
what is heard.

We may read again from the excellent rules of Robert Schumann:

"Frequently sing in choruses, especially the middle parts; this will
help to make you musical."

Out of this we learn to try to hear more than the melody, to try
sometimes not to think of the melody, but to listen only to that which
accompanies it. When, in school, you sing in two and three parts,
notice how one is inclined always to sing the soprano. The melody
pulls us away from another part if we are not concentrated upon our
part. Yet notice how beautifully musical the lower parts are. Listen
intently to them whatever part you sing.

It seems in music that we learn to listen in two directions. First, by
tr