s, and the musical press was teeming with correspondence in
which the pros and cons of such studies were hotly discussed, many of
the antagonistic writers opining that the knowledge of the anatomy of
the throat would be of as much service to a vocalist as that of the
hand to a violinist. Which reasoning sounds at first glance quite
complete, yet, on examination, it will be observed that there is no
such close analogy as these writers appeared to think. To begin with,
in singing the mind only occupies itself with the sound produced. To
learn singing is to practise mimicry. We cannot determine the
position of the vocal chords before producing the note. Our
consciousness begins at the other end; the mind conjures up a certain
ideal sound which we attempt to realize vocally; if the desired
_timbre_ is produced the laryngeal action is correct. With the violin
thought commences with the means. The hand is trained; we say set the
fingers so, and the thumb so. Now practice; when the action is
perfect the tone will be right. Briefly in singing we strive for the
tone and the action follows, in the violin we strive for the action
and the tone follows. Thus it is clear that a knowledge of the
structure of the hand is of distinct value to a violinist--in
particular, a teacher--while, on the other hand, the knowledge of the
anatomy of the throat can be little more than interesting to the
vocalist.
A knowledge of the structure and functions of the various parts of
the hand on the part of a teacher would smooth over many
disheartening experiences of his pupils. Just as it is of value to
study the mental characteristics of a pupil so, also, is it of value
to thoroughly examine his physical peculiarities. I wonder how many
violin teachers have noticed, or have profited by so noticing, that
no two hands are alike, or that thumbs are of different lengths and
set on in various degrees of opposition to the fingers. It is seldom
that such apparently unimportant details are observed by teachers,
the majority of whom make all their pupils hold the bow alike, long
thumbs or short thumbs it makes no difference. I remember having for
a pupil a young lady who had been taught to hold her bow at the
extreme tips of her fingers. Naturally she gained no facility and
every attempt at semiquavers sent the bow flying across the room to
the imminent danger of the teacher's optics. I surmised the cause of
this eccentricity and was ultimately able to verif
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