As I had for many years the advantage of the best tuition, both German and Italian, in the Art of Singing, and had often sung with favor in concerts, I was led to believe myself qualified to become a teacher of this art. But hardly had I undertaken the office before I felt that, while I was able to teach my pupils to execute pieces of music with tolerable accuracy and with the appropriate expression, I was wanting in the knowledge of any sure starting-point, any sound principle, from which to proceed in the special culture of any individual voice. In order to obtain the knowledge which thus appeared to be requisite in a teacher of vocal music, I examined the best schools of singing; and when I learned nothing from them that I did not already know, I sought the most celebrated teachers of singing to learn what was wanting. But what one teacher announced to me as a rule was usually rejected by another. Every teacher had his own peculiar system of instruction. No one could give me any definite reasons therefor, and the best assured me that so exact a method as I sought did not exist, and that every teacher must find his own way through his own experience. In such a state of darkness and uncertainty, to undertake to instruct others appeared to me a manifest wrong, for in no branch of instruction can the ignorance of the teacher do greater injury than in the teaching of vocal music. This I unhappily learned from my own personal experience, when, under the tuition of a most eminent teacher, I entirely lost my voice, whereby the embarrassment I was under, so far from being diminished, was only increased. After this misfortune I studied under _Frederick Wiek_, in Dresden (the father and instructor of Clara Schumann), in order to become a teacher on the piano. But while I thus devoted myself to this branch of teaching exclusively, it became from that time the aim and effort of my life to obtain such a knowledge of the human voice as is indispensable to a natural and healthy development of its beautiful powers. I availed myself of every opportunity to hear Jenny Lind, who was then dwelling in Dresden, and to learn all that I could from her. I likewise hoped, by a protracted abode in Italy, the land of song, to attain the fulfilment of my wishes; but, beyond certain practical advantages, I gathered there no sure and radical knowledge. In the French method of instruction, now so popular, I found the same superficiality and uncertainty that existed everywhere else. But the more deeply I was impressed with this state of things, and the more fully I became aware of the injurious and trying consequences of the method of teaching followed at the present day, the more earnestly was I impelled to press onward in search of light and clearness in this dim domain.