I remember well an incident in my own youth. I once went to a concert
and heard a much lauded singer render an aria that was in turn
vociferously applauded by the audience. This singer possessed a most
wonderful tremolo. Every tone went up and down like the teeth of a saw.
It was impossible for her to sing a pure even tone without wobbling up
and down. But the untrained audience, hungry to applaud anything
musical, had cheered the singer despite the tremolo. Consequently I went
home and after a few minutes' work I found that it was possible for me
to produce a very wonderful tremolo. I went proudly to my teacher and
gave an exhibition of my new acquirement. "Who on earth have you been
listening to?" exclaimed my teacher. I confessed and was admonished not
to imitate.
The voice in childhood is a very delicate organ despite the wear and
tear which children give it by unnecessary howling and screaming. More
than this, the child-mind is so susceptible to impressions and these
impressions become so firmly fixed that the best vocal training for the
child should be that of taking the little one to hear great singers. All
that the juvenile mind hears is not lost, although much will be
forgotten. However, the better part will be unconsciously stowed away in
the subconscious mind, to burst forth later in beautiful song through no
different process than that by which the little birds store away the
song of the older birds. Dealers in singing birds place them in rooms
with older and highly developed singing birds to train them. This is not
exactly a process of imitation, but rather one of subconscious
assimilation. The bird develops his own song later on, but has the
advantage of the stored-up impressions of the trained birds.