Violin Mastery: Talks with Master Violinists and Teachers
by Frederick Herman Martens · English · Gutenberg #15535 · 354,575 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Violin Mastery: Talks with Master Violinists and Teachers
Author: Frederick Herman Martens
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Most recently updated: December 14, 2020
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIOLIN MASTERY: TALKS WITH MASTER VIOLINISTS AND TEACHERS ***
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Peter Barozzi and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: EUGÈNE YSAYE, with hand-written note]
VIOLIN MASTERY
_TALKS WITH MASTER VIOLINISTS AND TEACHERS_
COMPRISING INTERVIEWS WITH YSAYE, KREISLER,
ELMAN, AUER, THIBAUD, HEIFETZ, HARTMANN,
MAUD POWELL AND OTHERS
BY
FREDERICK H. MARTENS
WITH SIXTEEN PORTRAITS
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1919, by_
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
* * * * *
_All rights reserved, including that of translation
into foreign languages_
FOREWORD
The appreciation accorded Miss Harriette Brower's admirable books on
PIANO MASTERY has prompted the present volume of intimate _Talks with
Master Violinists and Teachers_, in which a number of famous artists and
instructors discuss esthetic and technical phases of the art of violin
playing in detail, their concept of what Violin Mastery means, and how
it may be acquired. Only limitation of space has prevented the inclusion
of numerous other deserving artists and teachers, yet practically all of
the greatest masters of the violin now in this country are represented.
That the lessons of their artistry and experience will be of direct
benefit and value to every violin student and every lover of violin
music may be accepted as a foregone conclusion.
FREDERICK H. MARTENS.
171 Orient Way,
Rutherford N.J.
CONTENTS
PAGE
FOREWORD v
EUGÈNE YSAYE The Tools of Violin Mastery 1
LEOPOLD AUER A Method without Secrets 14
EDDY BROWN Hubay and Auer: Technic: Hints
to the Student 25
MISCHA ELMAN Life and Color in Interpretation.
Technical Phases 38
SAMUEL GARDNER Technic and Musicianship 54
ARTHUR HARTMANN The Problem of Technic 66
JASCHA HEIFETZ The Danger of Practicing Too
Much. Technical Mastery and
Temperament 78
DAVID HOCHSTEIN The Violin as a Means of Expression
and Expressive Playing 91
FRITZ KREISLER Personality in Art 99
FRANZ KNEISEL The Perfect String Ensemble 110
ADOLFO BETTI The Technic of the Modern Quartet 127
HANS LETZ The Technic of Bowing 140
DAVID MANNES The Philosophy of Violin Teaching 146
TIVADAR NACHÉZ Joachim and Léonard as Teachers 160
MAXIMILIAN PILZER The Singing Tone and the Vibrato 177
MAUD POWELL Technical Difficulties: Some Hints
for the Concert Player 183
LEON SAMETINI Harmonics 198
ALEXANDER SASLAVSKY What the Teacher Can and Cannot Do 210
TOSCHA SEIDEL How to Study 219
EDMUND SEVERN The Joachim Bowing and Others:
The Left Hand 227
ALBERT SPALDING The Most Important Factor in the
Development of an Artist 240
THEODORE SPIERING The Application of Bow Exercises
to the Study of Kreutzer 247
JACQUES THIBAUD The Ideal Program 259
GUSTAV SAENGER The Editor as a Factor in "Violin
Mastery" 277
ILLUSTRATIONS
Eugène Ysaye _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
Leopold Auer 14
Mischa Elman 38
Arthur Hartmann 66
Jascha Heifetz 78
Fritz Kreisler 100
Franz Kneisel 110
Adolfo Betti 128
David Mannes 146
Tivadar Nachéz 160
Maud Powell 184
Toscha Seidel 220
Albert Spalding 240
Theodore Spiering 248
Jacques Thibaud 260
Gustav Saenger 278
VIOLIN MASTERY
EUGÈNE YSAYE
THE TOOLS OF VIOLIN MASTERY
Who is there among contemporary masters of the violin whose name stands
for more at the present time than that of the great Belgian artist, his
"extraordinary temperamental power as an interpreter" enhanced by a
hundred and one special gifts of tone and technic, gifts often alluded
to by his admiring colleagues? For Ysaye is the greatest exponent of
that wonderful Belgian school of violin playing which is rooted in his
teachers Vieuxtemps and Wieniawski, and which as Ysaye himself says,
"during a period covering seventy years reigned supreme at the
_Conservatoire_ in Paris in the persons of Massart, Remi, Marsick, and
others of its great interpreters."
What most impresses one who meets Ysaye and talks with him for the
first time is the mental breadth and vision of the man; his kindness and
amiability; his utter lack of small vanity. When the writer first called
on him in New York with a note of introductio from his friend and
admirer Adolfo Betti, and later at Scarsdale where, in company with his
friend Thibaud, he was dividing his time between music and tennis, Ysaye
made him entirely at home, and willingly talked of his art and its
ideals. In reply to some questions anent his own study years, he said:
"Strange to say, my father was my very first teacher--it is not often
the case. I studied with him until I went to the Liège Conservatory in
1867, where I won a second prize, sharing it with Ovide Musin, for
playing Viotti's 22d Concerto. Then I had lessons from Wieniawski in
Brussels and studied two years with Vieuxtemps in Paris. Vieuxtemps was
a paralytic when I came to him; yet a wonderful teacher, though he could
no longer play. And I was already a concertizing artist when I met him.
He was a very great man, the grandeur of whose tradition lives in the
whole 'romantic school' of violin playing. Look at his seven
concertos--of course they are written with an eye to effect, from the
virtuoso's standpoint, yet how firmly and solidly they are built up!
How interesting is their working-out: and the orchestral score is far
more than a mere accompaniment. As regards virtuose effect only
Paganini's music compares with his, and Paganini, of course, did not
play it as it is now played. In wealth of technical development, in true
musical expressiveness Vieuxtemps is a master. A proof is the fact that
his works have endured forty to fifty years, a long life for
compositions.
"Joachim, Léonard, Sivori, Wieniawski--all admired Vieuxtemps. In
Paganini's and Locatelli's works the effect, comparatively speaking,
lies in the mechanics; but Vieuxtemps is the great artist who made the
instrument take the road of romanticism which Hugo, Balzac and Gauthier
trod in literature. And before all the violin was made to charm, to
move, and Vieuxtemps knew it. Like Rubinstein, he held that the artist
must first of all have ideas, emotional power--his technic must be so
perfected that he does not have to think of it! Incidentally, speaking
of schools of violin playing, I find that there is a great tendency to
confuse the Belgian and French. This should not be. They are distinct,
though the latter has undoubtedly been formed and influenced by the
former. Many of the great violin names, in fact,--Vieuxtemps, Léonard*,
Marsick, Remi, Parent, de Broux, Musin, Thomson,--are all Belgian."
*Transcriber's note: Original text read "Leonard".
YSAYE'S REPERTORY
Ysaye spoke of Vieuxtemps's repertory--only he did not call it that: he
spoke of the Vieuxtemps compositions and of Vieuxtemps himself.
"Vieuxtemps wrote in the grand style; his music is always rich and
sonorous. If his violin is really to sound, the violinist must play
Vieuxtemps, just as the 'cellist plays Servais. You know, in the
Catholic Church, at Vespers, whenever God's name is spoken, we bow the
head. And Wieniawski would always bow his head when he said: 'Vieuxtemps
is the master of us all!'
"I have often played his _Fifth Concerto_, so warm, brilliant and
replete with temperament, always full-sounding, rich in an almost
unbounded strength. Of course, since Vieuxtemps wrote his concertos, a
great variety of fine modern works has appeared, the appreciation of
chamber-music has grown and developed, and with it that of the sonata.
And the modern violin sonata is also a vehicle for violin virtuosity in
the very best meaning of the word. The sonatas of César Franck, d'Indy,
Théodore Dubois, Lekeu, Vierne, Ropartz, Lazarri--they are all highly
expressive, yet at the same time virtuose. The violin parts develop a
lovely song line, yet their technic is far from simple. Take Lekeu's
splendid Sonata in G major; rugged and massive, making decided technical
demands--it yet has a wonderful breadth of melody, a great expressive
quality of song."
These works--those who have heard the Master play the beautiful Lazarri
sonata this season will not soon forget it--are all dedicated to Ysaye.
And this holds good, too, of the César Franck sonata. As Ysaye says:
"Performances of these great sonatas call for _two_ artists--for their
piano parts are sometimes very elaborate. César Franck sent me his
sonata on September 26, 1886, my wedding day--it was his wedding
present! I cannot complain as regards the number of works, really
important works, inscribed to me. There are so many--by Chausson (his
symphony), Ropartz, Dubois (his sonata--one of the best after Franck),
d'Indy (the _Istar_ variations and other works), Gabriel Fauré (the
Quintet), Debussy (the Quartet)! There are more than I can recall at
the moment--violin sonatas, symphonic music, chamber-music, choral
works, compositions of every kind!
"Debussy, as you know, wrote practically nothing originally for the
violin and piano--with the exception, perhaps, of a work published by
Durand during his last illness. Yet he came very near writing something
for me. Fifteen years ago he told me he was composing a 'Nocturne' for
me. I went off on a concert tour and was away a long time. When I
returned to Paris I wrote to Debussy to find out what had become of my
'Nocturne.' And he replied that, somehow, it had shaped itself up for
orchestra instead of a violin solo. It is one of the _Trois Nocturnes_
for orchestra. Perhaps one reason why so much has been inscribed to me
is the fact that as an interpreting artist, I have never cultivated a
'specialty.' I have played everything from Bach to Debussy, for real art
should be international!"
Ysaye himself has an almost marvelous right-arm and fingerboard control,
which enables him to produce at will the finest and most subtle tonal
nuances in all bowings. Then, too, he overcomes the most intricate
mechanical problems with seemingly effortless ease. And his tone has
well been called "golden." His own definition of tone is worth
recording. He says it should be "In music what the heart suggests, and
the soul expresses!"
THE TOOLS OF VIOLIN MASTERY
"With regard to mechanism," Ysaye continued, "at the present day the
tools of violin mastery, of expression, technic, mechanism, are far more
necessary than in days gone by. In fact they are indispensable, if the
spirit is to express itself without restraint. And the greater
mechanical command one has the less noticeable it becomes. All that
suggests effort, awkwardness, difficulty, repels the listener, who more
than anything else delights in a singing violin tone. Vieuxtemps often
said: _Pas de trait pour le trait--chantez, chantez_! (Not runs for the
sake of runs--sing, sing!)
"Too many of the technicians of the present day no longer sing. Their
difficulties--they surmount them more or less happily; but the effect is
too apparent, and though, at times, the listener may be astonished, he
can never be charmed. Agile fingers, sure of themselves, and a perfect
bow stroke are essentials; and they must be supremely able to carry
along the rhythm and poetic action the artist desires. Mechanism
becomes, if anything, more accessible in proportion as its domain is
enriched by new formulas. The violinist of to-day commands far greater
technical resources than did his predecessors. Paganini is accessible to
nearly all players: Vieuxtemps no longer offers the difficulties he did
thirty years ago. Yet the wood-wind, brass and even the string
instruments subsist in a measure on the heritage transmitted by the
masters of the past. I often feel that violin teaching to-day endeavors
to develop the esthetic sense at too early a stage. And in devoting
itself to the _head_ it forgets the _hands_, with the result that the
young soldiers of the violinistic army, full of ardor and courage, are
ill equipped for the great battle of art.
"In this connection there exists an excellent set of _Études-Caprices_
by E. Chaumont, which offer the advanced student new elements and
formulas of development. Though in some of them 'the frame is too large
for the picture,' and though difficult from a violinistic point of view,
'they lie admirably well up the neck,' to use one of Vieuxtemps's
expressions, and I take pleasure in calling attention to them.
"When I said that the string instruments, including the violin, subsist
in a measure on the heritage transmitted by the masters of the past, I
spoke with special regard to technic. Since Vieuxtemps there has been
hardly one new passage written for the violin; and this has retarded the
development of its technic. In the case of the piano, men like Godowsky
have created a new technic for their instrument; but although
Saint-Saëns, Bruch, Lalo and others have in their works endowed the
violin with much beautiful music, music itself was their first concern,
and not music for the violin. There are no more concertos written for
the solo flute, trombone, etc.--as a result there is no new technical
material added to the resources of these instruments.
"In a way the same holds good of the violin--new works conceived only
from the musical point of view bring about the stagnation of technical
discovery, the invention of new passages, of novel harmonic wealth of
combination is not encouraged. And a violinist owes it to himself to
exploit the great possibilities of his own instrument. I have tried to
find new technical ways and means of expression in my own compositions.
For example, I have written a _Divertiment_ for violin and orchestra in
which I believe I have embodied new thoughts and ideas, and have
attempted to give violin technic a broader scope of life and vigor.
"In the days of Viotti and Rode the harmonic possibilities were more
limited--they had only a few chords, and hardly any chords of the ninth.
But now harmonic material for the development of a new violin technic is
there: I have some violin studies, in ms., which I may publish some day,
devoted to that end. I am always somewhat hesitant about
publishing--there are many things I might publish, but I have seen so
much brought out that was banal, poor, unworthy, that I have always been
inclined to mistrust the value of my own creations rather than fall into
the same error. We have the scale of Debussy and his successors to draw
upon, their new chords and successions of fourths and fifths--for new
technical formulas are always evolved out of and follow after new
harmonic discoveries--though there is as yet no violin method which
gives a fingering for the whole-tone scale. Perhaps we will have to wait
until Kreisler or I will have written one which makes plain the new
flowering of technical beauty and esthetic development which it brings
the violin.
"As to teaching violin, I have never taught violin in the generally
accepted sense of the phrase. But at Godinne, where I usually spent my
summers when in Europe, I gave a kind of traditional course in the works
of Vieuxtemps, Wieniawski and other masters to some forty or fifty
artist-students who would gather there--the same course I look forward
to giving in Cincinnati, to a master class of very advanced pupils. This
was and will be a labor of love, for the compositions of Vieuxtemps and
Wieniawski especially are so inspiring and yet, as a rule, they are so
badly played--without grandeur or beauty, with no thought of the
traditional interpretation--that they seem the piecework of technic
factories!
VIOLIN MASTERY
"When I take the whole history of the violin into account I feel that
the true inwardness of 'Violin Mastery' is best expressed by a kind of
threefold group of great artists. First, in the order of romantic
expression, we have a trinity made up of Corelli, Viotti and Vieuxtemps.
Then there is a trinity of mechanical perfection, composed of Locatelli,
Tartini and Paganini or, a more modern equivalent, César Thomson,
Kubelik and Burmeister. And, finally, what I might call in the order of
lyric expression, a quartet comprising Ysaye, Thibaud, Mischa Elman and
Sametini of Chicago, the last-named a wonderfully fine artist of the
lyric or singing type. Of course there are qualifications to be made.
Locatelli was not altogether an exponent of technic. And many other fine
artists besides those mentioned share the characteristics of those in
the various groups. Yet, speaking in a general way, I believe that these
groups of attainment might be said to sum up what 'Violin Mastery'
really is. And a violin master? He must be a violinist, a thinker, a
poet, a human being, he must have known hope, love, passion and despair,
he must have run the gamut of the emotions in order to express them all
in his playing. He must play his violin as Pan played his flute!"
In conclusion Ysaye sounded a note of warning for the too ambitious
young student and player. "If Art is to progress, the technical and
mechanical element must not, of course, be neglected. But a boy of
eighteen cannot expect to express that to which the serious student of
thirty, the man who has actually lived, can give voice. If the
violinist's art is truly a great art, it cannot come to fruition in the
artist's 'teens. His accomplishment then is no more than a promise--a
promise which finds its realization in and by life itself. Yet Americans
have the brains as well as the spiritual endowment necessary to
understand and appreciate beauty in a high degree. They can already
point with pride to violinists who emphatically deserve to be called
artists, and another quarter-century of artistic striving may well bring
them into the front rank of violinistic achievement!"
II
LEOPOLD AUER
A METHOD WITHOUT SECRETS
When that celebrated laboratory of budding musical genius, the Petrograd
Conservatory, closed its doors indefinitely owing to the disturbed
political conditions of Russia, the famous violinist and teacher
Professor Leopold Auer decided to pay the visit to the United States
which had so repeatedly been urged on him by his friends and pupils. His
fame, owing to such heralds as Efrem Zimbalist, Mischa Elman, Kathleen
Parlow, Eddy Brown, Francis MacMillan, and more recently Sascha Heifetz,
Toscha Seidel, and Max Rosen, had long since preceded him; and the
reception accorded him in this country, as a soloist and one of the
greatest exponents and teachers of his instrument, has been one justly
due to his authority and preëminence.
It was not easy to have a heart-to-heart talk with the Master anent his
art, since every minute of his time was precious. Yet ushered into
his presence, the writer discovered that he had laid aside for the
moment other preoccupations, and was amiably responsive to all
questions, once their object had been disclosed. Naturally, the first
and burning question in the case of so celebrated a pedagogue was: "How
do you form such wonderful artists? What is the secret of your method?"
[Illustration: LEOPOLD AUER, with hand-written note]
A METHOD WITHOUT SECRETS
"I know," said Professor Auer, "that there is a theory somewhat to the
effect that I make a few magic passes with the bow by way of
illustration and--_presto_--you have a Zimbalist or a Heifetz! But the
truth is I have no method--unless you want to call purely natural lines
of development, based on natural principles, a method--and so, of
course, there is no secret about my teaching. The one great point I lay
stress on in teaching is never to kill the individuality of my various
pupils. Each pupil has his own inborn aptitudes, his own personal
qualities as regards tone and interpretation. I always have made an
individual study of each pupil, and given each pupil individual
treatment. And always, always I have encouraged them to develop freely
in their own way as regards inspiration and ideals, so long as this was
not contrary to esthetic principles and those of my art. My idea has
always been to help bring out what nature has already given, rather than
to use dogma to force a student's natural inclinations into channels I
myself might prefer. And another great principle in my teaching, one
which is productive of results, is to demand as much as possible of the
pupil. Then he will give you something!
"Of course the whole subject of violin teaching is one that I look at
from the standpoint of the teacher who tries to make what is already
excellent perfect from the musical and artistic standpoint. I insist on
a perfected technical development in every pupil who comes to me. Art
begins where technic ends. There can be no real art development before
one's technic is firmly established. And a great deal of technical work
has to be done before the great works of violin literature, the sonatas
and concertos, may be approached. In Petrograd my own assistants, who
were familiar with my ideas, prepared my pupils for me. And in my own
experience I have found that one cannot teach by word, by the spoken
explanation, alone. If I have a point to make I explain it; but if my
explanation fails to explain I take my violin and bow, and clear up the
matter beyond any doubt. The word lives, it is true, but often the word
must be materialized by action so that its meaning is clear. There are
always things which the pupil must be shown literally, though
explanation should always supplement illustration. I studied with
Joachim as a boy of sixteen--it was before 1866, when there was still a
kingdom of Hanover in existence--and Joachim always illustrated his
meaning with bow and fiddle. But he never explained the technical side
of what he illustrated. Those more advanced understood without verbal
comment; yet there were some who did not.
"As regards the theory that you can tell who a violinist's teacher is by
the way in which he plays, I do not believe in it. I do not believe that
you can tell an Auer pupil by the manner in which he plays. And I am
proud of it since it shows that my pupils have profited by my
encouragement of individual development, and that they become genuine
artists, each with a personality of his own, instead of violinistic
automats, all bearing a marked family resemblance."
Questioned as to how his various pupils reflected different phases of
his teaching ideals, Professor Auer mentioned that he had long since
given over passing final decisions on his pupils. "I could express no
such opinions without unconsciously implying comparisons. And so few
comparisons really compare! Then, too, mine would be merely an
individual opinion. Therefore, as has been my custom for years, I will
continue to leave any ultimate decisions regarding my pupils' playing to
the public and the press."
HOURS OF PRACTICE
"How long should the advanced pupil practice?" Professor Auer was asked.
"The right kind of practice is not a matter of hours," he replied.
"Practice should represent the utmost concentration of brain. It is
better to play with concentration for two hours than to practice eight
without. I should say that four hours would be a good maximum practice
time--I never ask more of my pupils--and that during each minute of the
time the brain be as active as the fingers.
NATIONALITY VERSUS THE CONSERVATORY SYSTEM
"I think there is more value in the idea of a national conservatory than
in the idea of nationality as regards violin playing. No matter what his
birthplace, there is only one way in which a student can become an
artist--and that is to have a teacher who can teach! In Europe the best
teachers are to be found in the great national conservatories. Thibaud,
Ysaye--artists of the highest type--are products of the conservatory
system, with its splendid teachers. So is Kreisler, one of the greatest
artists, who studied in Vienna and Paris. Eddy Brown, the brilliant
American violinist, finished at the Budapest Conservatory. In the Paris
Conservatory the number of pupils in a class is strictly limited; and
from these pupils each professor chooses the very best--who may not be
able to pay for their course--for free instruction. At the Petrograd
Conservatory, where Wieniawski preceded me, there were hundreds of free
scholarships available. If a really big talent came along he always had
his opportunity. We took and taught those less talented at the
Conservatory in order to be able to give scholarships to the deserving
of limited means. In this way no real violinistic genius, whom poverty
might otherwise have kept from ever realizing his dreams, was deprived
of his chance in life. Among the pupils there in my class, having
scholarships, were Kathleen Parlow, Elman, Zimbalist, Heifetz and
Seidel.
VIOLIN MASTERY
"Violin mastery? To me it represents the sum total of accomplishment on
the part of those who live in the history of the Art. All those who may
have died long since, yet the memory of whose work and whose creations
still lives, are the true masters of the violin, and its mastery is the
record of their accomplishment. As a child I remember the well-known
composers of the day were Marschner, Hiller, Nicolai and others--yet
most of what they have written has been forgotten. On the other hand
there are Tartini, Nardini, Paganini, Kreutzer, Dont and Rode--they
still live; and so do Ernst, Sarasate, Vieuxtemps and Wieniawski.
Joachim (incidentally the only great German violinist of whom I
know--and he was a Hungarian!), though he had but few great pupils, and
composed but little, will always be remembered because he, together with
David, gave violin virtuosity a nobler trend, and introduced a higher
ideal in the music played for violin. It is men such as these who always
will remain violin 'masters,' just as 'violin mastery' is defined by
what they have done."
THE BACH VIOLIN SONATAS AND OTHER COMPOSITIONS
Replying to a question as to the value of the Bach violin sonatas,
Professor Auer said: "My pupils always have to play Bach. I have
published my own revision of them with a New York house. The most
impressive thing about these Bach solo sonatas is they do not need an
accompaniment: one feels it would be superfluous. Bach composed so
rapidly, he wrote with such ease, that it would have been no trouble for
him to supply one had he felt it necessary. But he did not, and he was
right. And they still must be played as he has written them. We have the
'modern' orchestra, the 'modern' piano, but, thank heaven, no 'modern'
violin! Such indications as I have made in my edition with regard to
bowing, fingering, _nuances_ of expression, are more or less in accord
with the spirit of the times; but not a single note that Bach has
written has been changed. The sonatas are technically among the most
difficult things written for the violin, excepting Ernst and Paganini.
Not that they are hard in a modern way: Bach knew nothing of harmonics,
_pizzicati_, scales in octaves and tenths. But his counterpoint, his
fugues--to play them well when the principal theme is sometimes in the
outer voices, sometimes in the inner voices, or moving from one to the
other--is supremely difficult! In the last sonatas there is a larger
number of small movements--- but this does not make them any easier to
play.
"I have also edited the Beethoven sonatas together with Rudolph Ganz. He
worked at the piano parts in New York, while I studied and revised the
violin parts in Petrograd and Norway, where I spent my summers during
the war. There was not so much to do," said Professor Auer modestly, "a
little fingering, some bowing indications and not much else. No reviser
needs to put any indications for _nuance_ and shading in Beethoven. He
was quite able to attend to all that himself. There is no composer who
shows such refinement of _nuance_. You need only to take his quartets
or these same sonatas to convince yourself of the fact. In my Brahms
revisions I have supplied really needed fingerings, bowings, and other
indications! Important compositions on which I am now at work include
Ernst's fine Concerto, Op. 23, the Mozart violin concertos, and
Tartini's _Trille du diable_, with a special cadenza for my pupil,
Toscha Seidel.
AS REGARDS "PRODIGIES"
"Prodigies?" said Professor Auer. "The word 'prodigy' when applied to
some youthful artist is always used with an accent of reproach. Public
and critics are inclined to regard them with suspicion. Why? After all,
the important thing is not their youth, but their artistry. Examine the
history of music--you will discover that any number of great masters,
great in the maturity of their genius, were great in its infancy as
well. There are Mozart, Beethoven, Liszt, Rubinstein, d'Albert, Hofmann,
Scriabine, Wieniawski--they were all 'infant prodigies,' and certainly
not in any objectionable sense. Not that I wish to claim that every
_prodigy_ necessarily becomes a great master. That does not always
follow. But I believe that a musical prodigy, instead of being regarded
with suspicion, has a right to be looked upon as a striking example of a
pronounced natural predisposition for musical art. Of course, full
mental development of artistic power must come as a result of the
maturing processes of life itself. But I firmly believe that every
prodigy represents a valuable musical phenomenon, one deserving of the
keenest interest and encouragement. It does not seem right to me that
when the art of the prodigy is incontestably great, that the mere fact
of his youth should serve as an excuse to look upon him with prejudice,
and even with a certain degree of distrust."
III
EDDY BROWN
HUBAY AND AUER: TECHNIC:
HINTS TO THE STUDENT
Notwithstanding the fact that Eddy Brown was born in Chicago, Ill., and
that he is so great a favorite with concert audiences in the land of his
birth, the gifted violinist hesitates to qualify himself as a strictly
"American" violinist. As he expresses it: "Musically I was altogether
educated in Europe--I never studied here, because I left this country at
the age of seven, and only returned a few years ago. So I would not like
to be placed in the position of claiming anything under false pretenses!
HUBAY AND AUER: SOME COMPARISONS
"With whom did I study? With two famous masters; by a strange
coincidence both Hungarians. First with Jenö Hubay, at the National
Academy of Music in Budapest, later with Leopold Auer in Petrograd.
Hubay had been a pupil of Vieuxtemps in Brussels, and is a justly
celebrated teacher, very thorough and painstaking in explaining to his
pupils how to do things; but the great difference between Hubay and Auer
is that while Hubay tells a student how to do things, Auer, a
temperamental teacher, literally drags out of him whatever there is in
him, awakening latent powers he never knew he possessed. Hubay is a
splendid builder of virtuosity, and has a fine sense for phrasing. For a
year and a half I worked at nothing but studies with him, giving special
attention to technic. He did not believe in giving too much time to left
hand development, when without adequate bow technic finger facility is
useless. Here he was in accord with Auer, in fact with every teacher
seriously deserving of the name. Hubay was a first-class pedagog, and
under his instruction one could not help becoming a well-balanced and
musicianly player. But there is a higher ideal in violin playing than
mere correctness, and Auer is an inspiring teacher. Hubay has written
some admirable studies, notably twelve studies for the right hand,
though he never stressed technic too greatly. On the other hand, Auer's
most notable contributions to violin literature are his revisions of
such works as the Bach sonatas, the Tschaikovsky Concerto, etc. In a way
it points the difference in their mental attitude: Hubay more concerned
with the technical educational means, one which cannot be overlooked;
Auer more interested in the interpretative, artistic educational end,
which has always claimed his attention. Hubay personally was a _grand
seigneur_, a multi-millionaire, and married to an Hungarian countess. He
had a fine ear for phrasing, could improvise most interesting violin
accompaniments to whatever his pupils played, and beside Rode, Kreutzer
and Fiorillo I studied the concertos and other repertory works with him.
Then there were the conservatory lessons! Attendance at a European
conservatory is very broadening musically. Not only does the individual
violin pupil, for example, profit by listening to his colleagues play in
class: he also studies theory, musical history, the piano, _ensemble_
playing, chamber-music and orchestra. I was concertmaster of the
conservatory orchestra while studying with Hubay. There should be a
national conservatory of music in this country; music in general would
advance more rapidly. And it would help teach American students to
approach the art of violin playing from the right point of view. As it
is, too many want to study abroad under some renowned teacher not,
primarily, with the idea of becoming great artists; but in the hope of
drawing great future commercial dividends from an initial financial
investment. In Art the financial should always be a secondary
consideration.
"It stands to reason that no matter how great a student's gifts may be,
he can profit by study with a great teacher. This, I think, applies to
all. After I had already appeared in concert at Albert Hall, London, in
1909, where I played the Beethoven Concerto with orchestra, I decided to
study with Auer. When I first came to him he wanted to know why I did
so, and after hearing me play, told me that I did not need any lessons
from him. But I knew that there was a certain 'something' which I wished
to add to my violinistic make-up, and instinctively felt that he alone
could give me what I wanted. I soon found that in many essentials his
ideas coincided with those of Hubay. But I also discovered that Auer
made me develop my individuality unconsciously, placing no undue
restrictions whatsoever upon my manner of expression, barring, of
course, unmusicianly tendencies. When he has a really talented pupil the
Professor gives him of his best. I never gave a thought to technic while
I studied with him--the great things were a singing tone, bowing,
interpretation! I studied Brahms and Beethoven, and though Hubay always
finished with the Bach sonatas, I studied them again carefully with
Auer.
TECHNIC: SOME HINTS TO THE STUDENT
"At the bottom of all technic lies the scale. And scale practice is the
ladder by means of which all must climb to higher proficiency. Scales,
in single tones and intervals, thirds, sixths, octaves, tenths, with the
incidental changes of position, are the foundation of technic. They
should be practiced slowly, always with the development of tone in mind,
and not too long a time at any one session. No one can lay claim to a
perfected technic who has not mastered the scale. Better a good tone,
even though a hundred mistakes be made in producing it, than a tone that
is poor, thin and without quality. I find the Singer _Fingerübungen_ are
excellent for muscular development in scale work, for imparting the
great strength which is necessary for the fingers to have; and the
Kreutzer _études_ are indispensable. To secure an absolute _legato_
tone, a true singing tone on the violin, one should play scales with a
perfectly well sustained and steady bow, in whole notes, slowly and
_mezzo-forte_, taking care that each note is clear and pure, and that
its volume does not vary during the stroke. The quality of tone must be
equalized, and each whole note should be 'sung' with a single bowing.
The change from up-bow to down-bow and _vice versa_ should be made
without a break, exclusively through skillful manipulation of the wrist.
To accomplish this unbroken change of bow one should cultivate a loose
wrist, and do special work at the extreme ends, nut and tip.
"The _vibrato_ is a great tone beautifier. Too rapid or too slow a
_vibrato_ defeats the object desired. There is a happy medium of
_tempo_, rather faster than slower, which gives the best results. Carl
Flesch has some interesting theories about vibration which are worth
investigating. A slow and a moderately rapid _vibrato, from the wrist_,
is best for practice, and the underlying idea while working must be
tone, and not fingerwork.
_Staccato_ is one of the less important branches of bow technic. There
is a knack in doing it, and it is purely pyrotechnical. _Staccato_
passages in quantity are only to be found in solos of the virtuoso type.
One never meets with extended _staccato_ passages in Beethoven, Brahms,
Bruch or Lalo. And the Saint-Saëns's violin concerto, if I remember
rightly, contains but a single _staccato_ passage.
"_Spiccato_ is a very different matter from _staccato_: violinists as a
rule use the middle of the bow for _spiccato_: I use the upper third of
the bow, and thus get most satisfactory results, in no matter what
_tempo_. This question as to what portion of the bow to use for
_spiccato_ each violinist must decide for himself, however, through
experiment. I have tried both ways and find that by the last mentioned
use of the bow I secure quicker, cleaner results. Students while
practicing this bowing should take care that the wrist, and never the
arm, be used. Hubay has written some very excellent studies for this
form of 'springing bow.'
"The trill, when it rolls quickly and evenly, is a trill indeed! I never
had any difficulty in acquiring it, and can keep on trilling
indefinitely without the slightest unevenness or slackening of speed.
Auer himself has assured me that I have a trill that runs on and on
without a sign of fatigue or uncertainty. The trill has to be practiced
very slowly at first, later with increasing rapidity, and always with a
firm pressure of the fingers. It is a very beautiful embellishment, and
one much used; one finds it in Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Brahms, etc.
"Double notes never seemed hard to me, but harmonics are not as easily
acquired as some of the other violin effects. I advise pressing down the
first finger on the strings _inordinately_, especially in the higher
positions, when playing artificial harmonics. The higher the fingers
ascend on the strings, the more firmly they should press them, otherwise
the harmonics are apt to grow shrill and lose in clearness. The majority
of students have trouble with their harmonics, because they do not
practice them in this way. Of course the quality of the harmonics
produced varies with the quality of the strings that produce them. First
class strings are an absolute necessity for the production of pure
harmonics. Yet in the case of the artist, he himself is held
responsible, and not his strings.
"Octaves? Occasionally, as in Auer's transcript of Beethoven's _Dance of
the Dervishes_, or in the closing section of the Ernst Concerto, when
they are used to obtain a certain weird effect, they sound well. But
ordinarily, if cleanly played, they sound like one-note successions. In
the examples mentioned, the so-called 'fingered octaves,' which are very
difficult, are employed. Ordinary octaves are not so troublesome. After
all, in octave playing we simply double the notes for the purpose of
making them more powerful.
"As regards the playing of tenths, it seems to me that the interval
always sounds constrained, and hardly ever euphonious enough to justify
its difficulty, especially in rapid passages. Yet Paganini used this
awkward interval very freely in his compositions, and one of his
'Caprices' is a variation in tenths, which should be played more often
than it is, as it is very effective. In this connection change of
position, which I have already touched on with regard to scale playing,
should be so smooth that it escapes notice. Among special effects the
_glissando_ is really beautiful when properly done. And this calls for
judgment. It might be added, though, that the _glissando_ is an effect
which should not be overdone. The _portamento_--gliding from one note to
another--is also a lovely effect. Its proper and timely application
calls for good judgment and sound musical taste.
A SPANISH VIOLIN
"I usually play a 'Strad,' but very often turn to my beautiful
'Guillami,'" said Mr. Brown when asked about his violins. "It is an old
Spanish violin, made in Barcelona, in 1728, with a tone that has a
distinct Stradivarius character. In appearance it closely resembles a
Guadagnini, and has often been taken for one. When the dealer of whom I
bought it first showed it to me it was complete--but in four distinct
pieces! Kubelik, who was in Budapest at the time, heard of it and wanted
to buy it; but the dealer, as was only right, did not forget that my
offer represented a prior claim, and so I secured it. The Guadagnini,
which I have played in all my concerts here, I am very fond of--it has a
Stradivarius tone rather than the one we usually associate with the
make." Mr. Brown showed the writer his Grancino, a beautiful little
instrument about to be sent to the repair shop, since exposure to the
damp atmosphere of the sea-shore had opened its seams--and the rare and
valuable Simon bow, now his, which had once been the property of
Sivori. Mr. Brown has used a wire E ever since he broke six gut strings
in one hour while at Seal Harbor, Maine. "A wire string, I find, is not
only easier to play, but it has a more brilliant quality of tone than a
gut string; and I am now so accustomed to using a wire E, that I would
feel ill at ease if I did not have one on my instrument. Contrary to
general belief, it does not sound 'metallic,' unless the string itself
is of very poor quality.
PROGRAMS
"In making up a recital program I try to arrange it so that the first
half, approximately, may appeal to the more specifically musical part of
my audience, and to the critics. In the second half I endeavor to
remember the general public; at the same time being careful to include
nothing which is not really _musical_. This (Mr. Brown found one of his
recent programs on his desk and handed it to me) represents a logical
compromise between the strictly artistic and the more general taste:"
PROGRAM
I. Beethoven . . . . . Sonata Op. 47 (dedicated to Kreutzer)
II. Bruch . . . . . . Concerto (G minor)
III. (a) Beethoven . . . . Romance (in G major)
(b) Beethoven-Auer . . Chorus of the Dervishes
(c) Brown . . . . . Rondino (on a Cramer theme)
(d) Arbos . . . . . Tango
IV. (a) Kreisler . . . . La Gitana
(Arabo-Spanish Gipsy Dance of the 18th Century)
(b) Cui . . . . . . Orientale
(c) Bazzini. . . . . La Ronde des Lutins
"As you see there are two extended serious works, followed by two
smaller 'groups' of pieces. And these have also been chosen with a view
to contrast. The _finale_ of the Bruch concerto is an _allegro
energico_: I follow it with a Beethoven _Romance_, a slow movement. The
second group begins with a taking Kreisler novelty, which is succeeded
by another slow number; but one very effective in its working-up; and I
end my program with a brilliant virtuoso number.
VIOLIN MASTERY
"My own personal conception of violin mastery," concluded Mr. Brown,
"might be defined as follows: 'An individual tone production, or rather
tone quality, consummate musicianship in phrasing and interpretation,
ability to rise above all mechanical and intellectual effort, and
finally the power to express that which is dictated by one's imagination
and emotion, with the same natural simplicity and spontaneity with which
the thought of a really great orator is expressed in the easy,
unconstrained flow of his language.'"
IV
MISCHA ELMAN
LIFE AND COLOR IN INTERPRETATION.
TECHNICAL PHASES
To hear Mischa Elman on the concert platform, to listen to him play,
"with all that wealth of tone, emotion and impulse which places him in
the very foremost rank of living violinists," should be joy enough for
any music lover. To talk with him in his own home, however, gives one a
deeper insight into his art as an interpreter; and in the pleasant
intimacy of familiar conversation the writer learned much that the
serious student of the violin will be interested in knowing.
[Illustration: MISCHA ELMAN, with hand-written note]
MANNERISMS IN PLAYING
We all know that Elman, when he plays in public, moves his head, moves
his body, sways in time to the music; in a word there are certain
mannerisms associated with his playing which critics have on occasion
mentioned with grave suspicion, as evidences of sensationalism. Half
fearing to insult him by asking whether he was "sincere," or whether his
motions were "stage business" carefully rehearsed, as had been implied,
I still ventured the question. He laughed boyishly and was evidently
much amused.
"No, no," he said. "I do not study up any 'stage business' to help out
my playing! I do not know whether I ought to compare myself to a dancer,
but the appeal of the dance is in all musical movement. Certain rhythms
and musical combinations affect me subconsciously. I suppose the direct
influence of the music on me is such that there is a sort of emotional
reflex: I move with the music in an unconscious translation of it into
gesture. It is all so individual. The French violinists as a rule play
very correctly in public, keeping their eye on finger and bow. And this
appeals to me strongly in theory. In practice I seem to get away from
it. It is a matter of temperament I presume. I am willing to believe I'm
not graceful, but then--I do not know whether I move or do not move!
Some of my friends have spoken of it to me at various times, so I
suppose I do move, and sway and all the rest; but any movements of the
sort must be unconscious, for I myself know nothing of them. And the
idea that they are 'prepared' as 'stage effects' is delightful!" And
again Elman laughed.
LIFE AND COLOR IN INTERPRETATION
"For that matter," he continued, "every real artist has some mannerisms
when playing, I imagine. Yet more than mannerisms are needed to impress
an American audience. Life and color in interpretation are the true
secrets of great art. And beauty of interpretation depends, first of
all, on variety of color. Technic is, after all, only secondary. No
matter how well played a composition be, its performance must have
color, _nuance_, movement, life! Each emotional mood of the moment must
be fully expressed, and if it is its appeal is sure. I remember when I
once played for Don Manuel, the young ex-king of Portugal, in London, I
had an illustration of the fact. He was just a pathetic boy, very
democratic, and personally very likable. He was somewhat neglected at
the time, for it is well known and not altogether unnatural, that
royalty securely established finds 'kings in exile' a bit embarrassing.
Don Manuel was a music-lover, and especially fond of Bach. I had had
long talks with the young king at various times, and my sympathies had
been aroused in his behalf. On the evening of which I speak I played a
Chopin _Nocturne_, and I know that into my playing there went some of my
feeling for the pathos of the situation of this young stranger in a
strange land, of my own age, eating the bitter bread of exile. When I
had finished, the Marchioness of Ripon touched my arm: 'Look at the
King!' she whispered. Don Manuel had been moved to tears.
"Of course the purely mechanical must always be dominated by the
artistic personality of the player. Yet technic is also an important
part of interpretation: knowing exactly how long to hold a bow, the most
delicate inflections of its pressure on the strings. There must be
perfect sympathy also with the composer's thought; his spirit must stand
behind the personality of the artist. In the case of certain famous
compositions, like the Beethoven concerto, for instance, this is so well
established that the artist, and never the composer, is held responsible
if it is not well played. But too rigorous an adherence to 'tradition'
in playing is also an extreme. I once played privately for Joachim in
Berlin: it was the Bach _Chaconne_. Now the edition I used was a
standard one: and Joachim was extremely reverential as regards
traditions. Yet he did not hesitate to indicate some changes which he
thought should be made in the version of an authoritative edition,
because 'they sounded better.' And 'How does it sound?' is really the
true test of all interpretation."
ABSOLUTE PITCH THE FIRST ESSENTIAL OF A
PERFECTED TECHNIC
"What is the fundamental of a perfected violin technic?" was a natural
question at this point. "Absolute pitch, first of all," replied Elman
promptly. "Many a violinist plays a difficult passage, sounding every
note; and yet it sounds out of tune. The first and second movements of
the Beethoven concerto have no double-stops; yet they are extremely
difficult to play. Why? Because they call for absolute pitch: they must
be played in perfect tune so that each tone stands out in all its
fullness and clarity like a rock in the sea. And without a fundamental
control of pitch such a master work will always be beyond the
violinist's reach. Many a player has the facility; but without perfect
intonation he can never attain the highest perfection. On the other
hand, any one who can play a single phrase in absolute pitch has the
first and great essential. Few artists, not barring some of the
greatest, play with perfect intonation. Its control depends first of all
on the ear. And a sensitive ear finds differences and shading; it bids
the violinist play a trifle sharper, a trifle flatter, according to the
general harmonic color of the accompaniment; it leads him to observe a
difference, when the harmonic atmosphere demands it, between a C sharp
in the key of E major and a D flat in the same key.
TECHNICAL PHASES
"Every player finds some phases of technic easy and others difficult.
For instance, I have never had to work hard for quality of tone--when I
wish to get certain color effects they come: I have no difficulty in
expressing my feelings, my emotions in tone. And in a technical way
_spiccato_ bowing, which many find so hard, has always been easy to me.
I have never had to work for it. Double-stops, on the contrary, cost me
hours of intensive work before I played them with ease and facility.
What did I practice? Scales in double-stops--they give color and variety
to tone. And I gave up a certain portion of my regular practice time to
passages from concertos and sonatas. There is wonderful work in
double-stops in the Ernst concerto and in the Paganini _Études_, for
instance. With octaves and tenths I have never had any trouble: I have a
broad hand and a wide stretch, which accounts for it, I suppose.
"Then there are harmonics, flageolets--I, have never been able to
understand why they should be considered so difficult! They should not
be white, colorless; but call for just as much color as any other tones
(and any one who has heard Mischa Elman play harmonics knows that this
is no mere theory on his part). I never think of harmonics as
'harmonics,' but try to give them just as much expressive quality as the
notes of any other register. The mental attitude should influence their
production--too many violinists think of them only as incidental to
pyrotechnical display.
"And fingering? Fingering in general seems to me to be an individual
matter. A concert artist may use a certain fingering for a certain
passage which no pupil should use, and be entirely justified if he can
thus secure a certain effect.
"I do not--speaking out of my own experience--believe much in methods:
and never to the extent that they be allowed to kill the student's
individuality. A clear, clean tone should always be the ideal of his
striving. And to that end he must see that the up and down bows in a
passage like the following from the Bach sonata in A minor (and Mr.
Elman hastily jotted down the subjoined) are absolutely
[Illustration: Musical Notation]
even, and of the same length, played with the same strength and length
of bow, otherwise the notes are swallowed. In light _spiccato_ and
_staccato_ the detached notes should be played always with a single
stroke of the bow. Some players, strange to say, find _staccato_ notes
more difficult to play at a moderate tempo than fast. I believe it to be
altogether a matter of control--if proper control be there the tempo
makes no difference. Wieniawski, I have read, could only play his
_staccati_ at a high rate of speed. _Spiccato_ is generally held to be
more difficult than _staccato_; yet I myself find it easier.
PROPORTION IN PRACTICE
"To influence a clear, singing tone with the left hand, to phrase it
properly with the bow hand, is most important. And it is a matter of
proportion. Good phrasing is spoiled by an ugly tone: a beautiful
singing tone loses meaning if improperly phrased. When the student has
reached a certain point of technical development, technic must be a
secondary--yet not neglected--consideration, and he should devote
himself to the production of a good tone. Many violinists have missed
their career by exaggerated attention to either bow or violin hand. Both
hands must be watched at the same time. And the question of proportion
should always be kept in mind in practicing studies and passages:
pressure of fingers and pressure of bow must be equalized, coordinated.
The teacher can only do a certain amount: the pupil must do the rest.
AUER AS A TEACHER
"Take Auer for example. I may call myself the first real exponent of his
school, in the sense of making his name widely known. Auer is a great
teacher, and leaves much to the individuality of his pupils. He first
heard me play at the Imperial Music School in Odessa, and took me to
Petrograd to study with him, which I did for a year and four months. And
he could accomplish wonders! That one year he had a little group of four
pupils each one better than the other--a very stimulating situation for
all of them. There was a magnetism about him: he literally hypnotized
his pupils into doing better than their best--though in some cases it
was evident that once the support of his magnetic personality was
withdrawn, the pupil fell back into the level from which he had been
raised for the time being.
"Yet Auer respected the fact that temperamentally I was not responsive
to this form of appeal. He gave me of his best. I never practiced more
than two or three hours a day--just enough to keep fresh. Often I came
to my lesson unprepared, and he would have me play things--sonatas,
concertos--which I had not touched for a year or more. He was a severe
critic, but always a just one.
"I can recall how proud I was when he sent me to beautiful music-loving
Helsingfors, in Finland--where all seems to be bloodshed and confusion
now--to play a recital in his own stead on one occasion, and how proud
he was of my success. Yet Auer had his little peculiarities. I have read
somewhere that the great fencing-masters of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries were very jealous of the secrets of their famous
feints and _ripostes_, and only confided them to favorite pupils who
promised not to reveal them. Auer had his little secrets, too, with
which he was loth to part. When I was to make my _début_ in Berlin, I
remember, he was naturally enough interested--since I was his pupil--in
my scoring a triumph. And he decided to part with some of his treasured
technical thrusts and parries. And when I was going over the
Tschaikovsky _D minor concerto_ (which I was to play), he would select a
passage and say: 'Now I'll play this for you. If you catch it, well and
good; if not it is your own fault!' I am happy to say that I did not
fail to 'catch' his meaning on any occasion. Auer really has a wonderful
intellect, and some secrets well worth knowing. That he is so great an
artist himself on the instrument is the more remarkable, since
physically he was not exceptionally favored. Often, when he saw me, he'd
say with a sigh: 'Ah, if I only had your hand!'
"Auer was a great virtuoso player. He held a unique place in the
Imperial Ballet. You know in many of the celebrated ballets,
Tschaikovsky's for instance, there occur beautiful and difficult solos
for the violin. They call for an artist of the first rank, and Auer was
accustomed to play them in Petrograd. In Russia it was considered a
decided honor to be called upon to play one of those ballet solos; but
in London it was looked on as something quite incidental. I remember
when Diaghilev presented Tschaikovsky's _Lac des Cygnes_ in London, the
Grand-Duke Andrew Vladimirev (who had heard me play), an amiable young
boy, and a patron of the arts, requested me--and at that time the
request of a Romanov was still equivalent to a command--to play the
violin solos which accompany the love scenes. It was not exactly easy,
since I had to play and watch dancers and conductor at the same time.
Yet it was a novelty for London, however; everybody was pleased and the
Grand-Duke presented me with a handsome diamond pin as an
acknowledgment.
VIOLIN MASTERY
"You ask me what I understand by 'Violin Mastery'? Well, it seems to me
that the artist who can present anything he plays as a distinct
picture, in every detail, framing the composer's idea in the perfect
beauty of his plastic rendering, with absolute truth of color and
proportion--he is the artist who deserves to be called a master!
"Of course, the instrument the artist uses is an important factor in
making it possible for him to do his best. My violin? It is an authentic
Strad--dated 1722. I bought it of Willy Burmester in London. You see he
did not care much for it. The German style of playing is not calculated
to bring out the tone beauty, the quality of the old Italian fiddles. I
think Burmester had forced the tone, and it took me some time to make it
mellow and truly responsive again, but now...." Mr. Elman beamed. It was
evident he was satisfied with his instrument. "As to strings," he
continued, "I never use wire strings--they have no color, no quality!
WHAT TO STUDY AND HOW
"For the advanced student there is a wealth of study material. No one
ever wrote more beautiful violin music than Haendel, so rich in
invention, in harmonic fullness. In Beethoven there are more ideas than
tone--but such ideas! Schubert--all genuine, spontaneous! Bach is so
gigantic that the violin often seems inadequate to express him. That is
one reason why I do not play more Bach in public.
"The study of a sonata or concerto should entirely absorb the attention
of the student to such a degree that, as he is able to play it, it has
become a part of him. He should be able to play it as though it were an
improvisation--of course without doing violence to the composer's idea.
If he masters the composition in the way it should be mastered it
becomes a portion of himself. Before I even take up my violin I study a
piece thoroughly in score. I read and reread it until I am at home with
the composer's thought, and its musical balance and proportion. Then,
when I begin to play it, its salient points are already memorized, and
the practicing gives me a kind of photographic reflex of detail. After I
have not played a number for a long time it fades from my memory--like
an old negative--but I need only go over it once or twice to have a
clear mnemonic picture of it once more.
"Yes, I believe in transcriptions for the violin--with certain
provisos," said Mr. Elman, in reply to another question. "First of all
the music to be transcribed must lend itself naturally to the
instrument. Almost any really good melodic line, especially a
_cantilena_, will sound with a fitting harmonic development. Violinists
of former days like Spohr, Rode and Paganini were more intent on
composing music _out of the violin_! The modern idea lays stress first
of all on the _idea_ in music. In transcribing I try to forget I am a
violinist, in order to form a perfect picture of the musical idea--its
violinistic development must be a natural, subconscious working-out. If
you will look at some of my recent transcripts--the Albaniz _Tango_, the
negro melody _Deep River_ and Amani's fine _Orientale_--you will see
what I mean. They are conceived as pictures--I have not tried to analyze
too much--and while so conceiving them their free harmonic background
shapes itself for me without strain or effort.
A REMINISCENCE OF COLONNE
"Conductors with whom I have played? There are many: Hans Richter, who
was a master of the baton; Nikisch, one of the greatest in conducting
the orchestral accompaniment to a violin solo number; Colonne of Paris,
and many others. I had an amusing experience with Colonne once. He
brought his orchestra to Russia while I was with Auer, and was giving a
concert at Pavlovsk, a summer resort near Petrograd. Colonne had a
perfect horror of 'infant prodigies,' and Auer had arranged for me to
play with his orchestra without telling him my age--I was eleven at the
time. When Colonne saw me, violin in hand, ready to step on the stage,
he drew himself up and said with emphasis: 'I play with a prodigy!
Never!' Nothing could move him, and I had to play to a piano
accompaniment. After he had heard me play, though, he came over to me
and said: 'The best apology I can make for what I said is to ask you to
do me the honor of playing with the _Orchestre Colonne_ in Paris.' He
was as good as his word. Four months later I went to Paris and played
the Mendelssohn concerto for him with great success."
V
SAMUEL GARDNER
TECHNIC AND MUSICIANSHIP
Samuel Gardner, though born in Jelisavetgrad, Cherson province, in
Southern Russia, in 1891, is to all intents and purposes an American,
since his family, fleeing the tyranny of an Imperialistic regime of
"pogroms" and "Black Hundreds," brought him to this country when a mere
child; and here in the United States he has become, to quote Richard
Aldrich, "the serious and accomplished artist," whose work on the
concert stage has given such pleasure to lovers of violin music at its
best. The young violinist, who in the course of the same week had just
won two prizes in composition--the Pulitzer Prize (Columbia) for a
string quartet, and the Loeb Prize for a symphonic poem--was amiably
willing to talk of his study experience for the benefit of other
students.
CHARLES MARTIN LOEFFLER AND FELIX WINTERNITZ AS TEACHERS
"I took up the study of the violin at the age of seven, and when I was
nine I went to Charles Martin Loeffler and really began to work
seriously. Loeffler was a very strict teacher and very exacting, but he
achieved results, for he had a most original way of making his points
clear to the student. He started off with the Sevčik studies, laying
great stress on the proper finger articulation. And he taught me
absolute smoothness in change of position when crossing the strings. For
instance, in the second book of Sevčik's 'Technical Exercises,' in the
third exercise, the bow crosses from G to A, and from D to E, leaving a
string between in each crossing. Well, I simply could not manage to get
to the second string to be played without the string in between
sounding! Loeffler showed me what every good fiddler _must_ learn to do:
to leap from the end of the down-bow to the up-bow and _vice versa_ and
then hesitate the fraction of a moment, thus securing a smooth,
clean-cut tone, without any vibration of the intermediate string.
Loeffler never gave a pupil any rest until he came up to his
requirements. I know when I played the seventh and eighth Kreutzer
studies for him--they are trill studies--he said: 'You trill like an
electric bell, but not fast enough!' And he kept at me to speed up my
tempo without loss of clearness or tone-volume, until I could do justice
to a rapid trill. It is a great quality in a teacher to be literally
able to _enforce_ the pupil's progress in certain directions; for though
the latter may not appreciate it at the time, later on he is sure to do
so. I remember once when he was trying to explain the perfect
_crescendo_ to me, fire-engine bells began to ring in the distance, the
sound gradually drawing nearer the house in Charles Street where I was
taking my lesson. 'There you have it!' Loeffler cried: 'There's your
ideal _crescendo_! Play it like that and I will be satisfied!' I
remained with Loeffler a year and a half, and when he went to Paris
began to study with Felix Winternitz.
"Felix Winternitz was a teacher who allowed his pupils to develop
individuality. 'I care nothing for theories,' he used to say, 'so long
as I can see something original in your work!' He attached little
importance to the theory of technic, but a great deal to technical
development along individual lines. And he always encouraged me to
express myself freely, within my limitations, stressing the musical side
of my work. With him I played through the concertos which, after a time,
I used for technical material, since every phase of technic and bowing
is covered in these great works. I was only fifteen when I left
Winternitz and still played by instinct rather than intellectually. I
still used my bow arm somewhat stiffly, and did not think much about
phrasing. I instinctively phrased whatever the music itself made clear
to me, and what I did not understand I merely played.
KNEISEL'S TEACHING METHODS
"But when I came to Franz Kneisel, my last teacher, I began to work with
my mind. Kneisel showed me that I had to think when I played. At first I
did not realize why he kept at me so insistently about phrasing,
interpretation, the exact observance of expression marks; but eventually
it dawned on me that he was teaching me to read a soul into each
composition I studied.
"I practiced hard, from four to five hours a day. Fortunately, as
regards technical equipment, I was ready for Kneisel's instruction. The
first thing he gave me to study was, not a brilliant virtuoso piece, but
the Bach concerto in E major, and then the Viotti concerto. In the
beginning, until Kneisel showed me, I did not know what to do with them.
This was music whose notes in themselves were easy, and whose
difficulties were all of an individual order. But intellectual analysis,
interpretation, are Kneisel's great points. A strict teacher, I worked
with him for five years, the most remarkable years of all my violin
study.
"Kneisel knows how to develop technical perfection without using
technical exercises. I had already played the Mendelssohn, Bruch and
Lalo concertos with Winternitz, and these I now restudied with Kneisel.
In interpretation he makes clear every phrase in its relation to every
other phrase and the movement as a whole. And he insists on his pupils
studying theory and composition--something I had formerly not been
inclined to take seriously.
"Some teachers are satisfied if the student plays his _notes_ correctly,
in a general way. With Kneisel the very least detail, a trill, a scale,
has to be given its proper tone-color and dynamic shading in absolute
proportion with the balancing harmonies. This trill, in the first
movement of the Beethoven concerto--(and Mr. Gardner jotted it down)
[Illustration: Musical Notation]
Kneisel kept me at during the entire lesson, till I was able to adjust
its tone-color and _nuances_ to the accompanying harmony. Then, though
many teachers do not know it, it is a tradition in the orchestra to make
a _diminuendo_ in the sixth measure, before the change of key to C
major, and this _diminuendo_ should, of course, be observed by the solo
instrument as well. Yet you will hear well-known artists play the trill
throughout with a loud, brilliant tone and no dynamic change!
"Kneisel makes it a point to have all his pupils play chamber music
because of its truly broadening influence. And he is unexcelled in
taking apart structurally the Beethoven, Brahms, Tschaikovsky and other
quartets, in analyzing and explaining the wonderful planning and
building up of each movement. I had the honor of playing second violin
in the Kneisel Quartet from September to February (1914-1915), at the
outbreak of the war, a most interesting experience. The musicianship
Kneisel had given me; I was used to his style and at home with his
ideas, and am happy to think that he was satisfied. A year later as
assistant concertmaster in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, I had a
chance to become practically acquainted with the orchestral works of
Strauss, d'Indy and other moderns, and enjoy the Beethoven, Brahms and
Tschaikovsky symphonies as a performer.
TECHNIC AND MUSICIANSHIP
"How do I regard technic now? I think of it in the terms of the music
itself. Music should dictate the technical means to be used. The
composition and its phrases should determine bowing and the tone quality
employed. One should not think of down-bows or up-bows. In the Brahms
concerto you can find many long phrases: they cannot be played with one
bow; yet there must be no apparent change of bow. If the player does not
know what the phrase means; how to interpret it, how will he be able to
bow it correctly?
"And there are so many different _nuances_, especially in _legato_. It
is as a rule produced by a slurred bow; yet it may also be produced by
other bowings. To secure a good _legato_ tone watch the singer. The
singer can establish the perfect smoothness that _legato_ calls for to
perfection. To secure a like effect the violinist should convey the
impression that there is no point, no frog, that the bow he uses is of
indefinite length. And the violinist should never think: 'I must play
this up-bow or down-bow.' Artists of the German school are more apt to
begin a phrase with a down-bow; the French start playing a good deal at
the point. Up or down, both are secondary to finding out, first of all,
what quality, what balance of tone the phrase demands. The conductor of
a symphonic orchestra does not care how, technically, certain effects
are produced by the violins, whether they use an up-bow or a down-bow.
He merely says: 'That's too heavy: give me less tone!' The result to be
achieved is always more important than the manner of achievement.
"All phases of technical accomplishment, if rightly acquired, tend to
become second nature to the player in the course of time: _staccato_, a
brilliant trick; _spiccato_, the reiteration of notes played from the
wrist, etc. The _martellato_, a _nuance_ of _spiccato_, should be played
with a firm bowing at the point. In a very broad _spiccato_, the arm
may be brought into play; but otherwise not, since it makes rapid
playing impossible. Too many amateurs try to play _spiccato_ from the
arm. And too many teachers are contented with a trill that is merely
brilliant. Kneisel insists on what he calls a 'musical trill,' of which
Kreisler's beautiful trill is a perfect example. The trill of some
violinists is _invariably_ brilliant, whether brilliancy is appropriate
or not. Brilliant trills in Bach always seem out of place to me; while
in Paganini and in Wieniawski's _Carnaval de Venise_ a high brilliant
trill is very effective.
"As to double-stops--Edison once said that violin music should be
written only in double-stops--I practice them playing first the single
notes and then the two together, and can recommend this mode of practice
from personal experience. Harmonics, where clarity is the most important
thing, are mainly a matter of bowing, of a sure attack and sustaining by
the bow. Of course the harmonics themselves are made by the fingers; but
their tone quality rests altogether with the bow.
EDISON AND OCTAVES
"The best thing I've ever heard said of octaves was Edison's remark to
me that 'They are merely a nuisance and should not be played!' I was
making some records for him during the experimental stage of the disk
record, when he was trying to get an absolutely smooth _legato_ tone,
one that conformed to Loeffler's definition of it as 'no breaks' in the
tone. He had had Schubert's _Ave Maria_ recorded by Flesch, MacMillan
and others, and wanted me to play it for him. The records were all
played for me, and whenever he came to the octave passages Edison would
say: 'Listen to them! How badly they sound!' Yet the octaves were
absolutely in tune! 'Why do they sound so badly?' I inquired.
"Then Edison explained to me that according to the scientific theory of
vibration, the vibrations of the higher tone of the octaves should be
exactly twice those of the lower note. 'But here,' he continued, 'the
vibrations of the notes all vary.' 'Yet how can the player control his
fingers in the _vibrato_ beyond playing his octaves in perfect tune?' I
asked. 'Well, if he cannot do so,' said Edison, 'octaves are merely a
nuisance, and should not be played at all.' I experimented and found
that by simply pressing down the fingers and playing without any
_vibrato_, I could come pretty near securing the exact relation between
the vibrations of the upper and lower notes but--they sounded dreadful!
Of course, octaves sound well in _ensemble_, especially in the
orchestra, because each player plays but a single note. And tenths sound
even better than octaves when two people play them.
WIRE AND GUT STRINGS
"You ask about my violin? It belonged to the famous Hawley collection,
and is a Giovanni Baptista Guadignini, made in 1780, in Turin. The back
is a single piece of maple-wood, having a broadish figure extending
across its breadth. The maple-wood sides match the back. The top is
formed of a very choice piece of spruce, and it is varnished a deep
golden-red. It has a remarkably fine tone, very vibrant and with great
carrying power, a tone that has all that I can ask for as regards volume
and quality.
"I think that wire strings are largely used now-a-days because gut
strings are hard to obtain--not because they are better. I do not use
wire strings. I have tried them and find them thin in tone, or so
brilliant that their tone is too piercing. Then, too, I find that the
use of a wire E reduces the volume of tone of the other strings. No
wire string has the quality of a fine gut string; and I regard them only
as a substitute in the case of some people, and a convenience for lazy
ones.
VIOLIN MASTERY
"Violin Mastery? Off-hand I might say the phrase stands for a life-time
of effort with its highest aims unattained. As I see it the achievement
of violin mastery represents a combination of 90 per cent. of toil and
10 per cent. of talent or inspiration. Goetschius, with whom I studied
composition, once said to me: 'I do not congratulate you on having
talent. That is a gift. But I do congratulate you on being able to work
hard!' The same thing applies to the fiddle. It seems to me that only by
keeping everlastingly at it can one become a master of the instrument."
VI
ARTHUR HARTMANN
THE PROBLEM OF TECHNIC
Arthur Hartmann is distinctly and unmistakably a personality. He stands
out even in that circle of distinguished contemporary violinists which
is so largely made up of personalities. He is a composer--not only of
violin pieces, but of symphonic and choral works, chamber music, songs
and piano numbers. His critical analysis of Bach's _Chaconne_,
translated into well-nigh every tongue, is probably the most complete
and exhaustive study of "that triumph of genius over matter" written.
And besides being a master of his own instrument he plays the _viola
d'amore_, that sweet-toned survival, with sympathetic strings, of the
17th century viol family, and the Hungarian _czimbalom_. Nor is his
mastery of the last-named instrument "out of drawing," for we must
remember that Mr. Hartmann was born in Maté Szalka, in Southern Hungary.
Then, too, Mr. Hartmann is a genial and original thinker, a
_littérateur_ of no mean ability, a bibliophile, the intimate of the
late Claude Debussy, and of many of the great men of musical Europe. Yet
from the reader's standpoint the interest he inspires is, no doubt,
mainly due to the fact that not only is he a great interpreting
artist--but a great artist doubled by a great teacher, an unusual
combination.
[Illustration: _Photo by E.F. Foley, N.Y._ ARTHUR HARTMANN,
with hand-written note]
Characteristic of Mr. Hartmann's hospitality (the writer had passed a
pleasant hour with him some years before, but had not seen him since),
was the fact that he insisted in brewing Turkish coffee, and making his
caller feel quite at home before even allowing him to broach the subject
of his visit. And when he learned that its purpose was to draw on his
knowledge and experience for information which would be of value to the
serious student and lover of his art, he did not refuse to respond.
WHAT VIOLIN PLAYING REALLY IS
"Violin playing is really no abstract mystery. It's as clear as
geography in a way: one might say the whole art is bounded on the South
by the G string, on the North by the E string, on the West by the
string hand--and that's about as far as the comparison may be carried
out. The point is, there are definite boundaries, whose technical and
esthetic limits may be extended, and territorial annexations made
through brain power, mental control. To me 'Violin Mastery' means taking
this little fiddle-box in hand [and Mr. Hartmann suited action to word
by raising the lid of his violin-case and drawing forth his beautiful
1711 Strad], and doing just what I want with it. And that means having
the right finger on the right place at the right time--but don't forget
that to be able to do this you must have forgotten to think of your
fingers as fingers. They should be simply unconscious slaves of the
artist's psychic expression, absolutely subservient to his ideal. Too
many people reverse the process and become slaves to their fingers.
THE PROBLEM OF TECHNIC
"Technic, for instance, in its mechanical sense, is a much exaggerated
microbe of _Materia musica_. All technic must conform to its
instrument.[A] The violin was made to suit the hand, not the hand to
suit the violin, hence its technic must be based on a natural logic of
hand movement. The whole problem of technical control is encountered in
the first change of position on the violin. If we violinists could play
in but one position there would be no technical problem. The solution of
this problem means, speaking broadly, the ability to play the
violin--for there is only one way of playing it--with a real, full,
singing 'violin' tone. It's not a question of a method, but just a
process based on pure reason, the working out of rational principles.
[Footnote A: This is the idea which underlies my system for ear-training
and absolute pitch, "Arthur Hartmann's System," as I call it, which I
have published. A.H.]
"What is the secret of this singing tone? Well, you may call it a
secret, for many of my pupils have no inkling of it when they first come
here, though it seems very much of an 'open secret' to me. The finished
beauty of the violin 'voice' is a round, sustained, absolutely smooth
_cantabile_ tone. Now [Mr. Hartmann took up his Strad], I'll play you
the scale of G as the average violin student plays it. You see--each
slide from one tone to the next, a break--a rosary of lurches! How can
there be a round, harmonious tone when the fingers progress by jerks?
Shifting position must not be a continuous movement of effort, but a
continuous movement in which effort and relaxation--that of dead
weight--alternate. As an illustration, when we walk we do not
consciously set down one foot, and then swing forward the other foot and
leg with a jerk. The forward movement is smooth, unconscious,
coordinated: in putting the foot forward it carries the weight of the
entire body, the movement becomes a matter of instinct. And the same
applies to the progression of the fingers in shifting the position of
the hand. Now, playing the scale as I now do--only two fingers should be
used--
[Illustration: Musical Notation]
I prepare every shift. Absolute accuracy of intonation and a singing
legato is the result. These guiding notes indicated are merely a test to
prove the scientific spacing of the violin; they are not sounded once
control of the hand has been obtained. _They serve only to accustom the
fingers to keep moving in the direction in which they are going_.
"The tone is produced by the left hand, by the weight of the fingers
plus an undercurrent of sustained effort. Now, you see, _if in the
moment of sliding you prepare the bow for the next string, the slide
itself is lost in the crossing of the bow_. To carry out consistently
this idea of effort and relaxation in the downward progression of the
scale, you will find that when you are in the third position, the
position of the hand is practically the same as in the first position.
Hence, in order to go down from third to first position with the hand in
what might be called a 'block' position, another movement is called for
to bridge over this space (between third and first position), and this
movement is the function of the thumb. The thumb, preceding the hand,
relaxes the wrist and helps draw the hand back to first position. But
great care must be taken that the thumb is not moved until the first
finger will have been played; otherwise there will be a tendency to
flatten. In the illustration the indication for the thumb is placed
after the note played by the first finger.
"The inviolable law of beautiful playing is that there must be no
angles. As I have shown you, right and left hand coördinate. The fiddle
hand is preparing the change of position, while the change of strings is
prepared by the right hand. And always the slides in the left hand are
prepared by the last played finger--_the last played finger is the true
guide to smooth progression_--just as the bow hand prepares the slides
in the last played bowing. There should be no such thing as jumping and
trusting in Providence to land right, and a curse ought to be laid on
those who let their fingers leave the fingerboard. None who develop this
fundamental aspect of all good playing lose the perfect control of
position.
"Of course there are a hundred _nuances_ of technic (into which the
quality of good taste enters largely) that one could talk of at length:
phrasing, and the subtle things happening in the bow arm that influence
it; _spiccato_, whose whole secret is finding the right point of balance
in the bow and, with light finger control, never allowing it to leave
the string. I've never been able to see the virtue of octaves or the
logic of double-stops. Like tenths, one plays or does not play them. But
do they add one iota of beauty to violin music? I doubt it! And, after
all, it is the poetry of playing that counts. All violin playing in its
essence is the quest for color; its perfection, that subtle art which
hides art, and which is so rarely understood."
"Could you give me a few guiding rules, a few Beatitudes, as it were,
for the serious student to follow?" I asked Mr. Hartmann. Though the
artist smiled at the idea of Beatitudes for the violinist, yet he was
finally amiable enough to give me the following, telling me I would have
to take them for what they were worth:
NINE BEATITUDES FOR VIOLINISTS
"Blessed are they who early in life approach Bach, for their love and
veneration for music will multiply with the years.
"Blessed are they who remember their own early struggles, for their
merciful criticism will help others to a greater achievement and
furtherance of the Divine Art.
"Blessed are they who know their own limitations, for they shall have
joy in the accomplishment of others.
"Blessed are they who revere the teachers--their own or those of
others--and who remember them with credit.
"Blessed are they who, revering the old masters, seek out the newer ones
and do not begrudge them a hearing or two.
"Blessed are they who work in obscurity, nor sound the trumpet, for Art
has ever been for the few, and shuns the vulgar blare of ignorance.
"Blessed are they whom men revile as futurists and modernists, for Art
can evolve only through the medium of iconoclastic spirits.
"Blessed are they who unflinchingly serve their Art, for thus only is
their happiness to be gained.
"Blessed are they who have many enemies, for square pegs will never fit
into round holes."
ARRANGING VERSUS TRANSCRIBING
Arthur Hartmann, like Kreisler, Elman, Maud Powell and others of his
colleagues, has enriched the literature of the violin with some notably
fine transcriptions. And it is a subject on which he has well-defined
opinions and regarding which he makes certain distinctions: "An
'arrangement,'" he said, "as a rule, is a purely commercial affair, into
which neither art nor æsthetics enter. It usually consists in writing
off the melody of a song--in other words, playing the 'tune' on an
instrument instead of hearing it sung with words--or in the case of a
piano composition, in writing off the upper voice, leaving the rest
intact, regardless of sonority, tone-color or even effectiveness, and,
furthermore, without consideration of the idiomatic principles of the
instrument to which the adaptation was meant to fit.
"A 'transcription,' on the other hand, can be raised to the dignity of
an art-work. Indeed, at times it may even surpass the original, in the
quality of thought brought into the work, the delicate and sympathetic
treatment and by the many subtleties* which an artist can introduce to
make it thoroughly a _re-creation_ of his chosen instrument.
*Transcriber's note: Original text read "subleties".
"It is the transcriber's privilege--providing he be sufficiently the
artist to approach the personality of another artist with reverence--to
donate his own gifts of ingenuity, and to exercise his judgment in
either adding, omitting, harmonically or otherwise embellishing the work
(_while preserving the original idea and characteristics_), so as to
thoroughly _re-create_ it, so completely destroying the very sensing of
the original _timbre_ that one involuntarily exclaims, 'Truly, this
never was anything but a violin piece!' It is this, the blending and
fusion of two personalities in the achievement of an art-ideal, that is
the result of a true adaptation.
"Among the transcriptions I have most enjoyed making were those of
Debussy's _Il pleure dans mon cœur_, and _La Fille aux cheveaux de
lin_. Debussy was my cherished friend, and they represent a labor of
love. Though Debussy was not, generally speaking, an advocate of
transcriptions, he liked these, and I remember when I first played _La
Fille aux cheveaux de lin_ for him, and came to a bit of counterpoint I
had introduced in the violin melody, whistling the harmonics, he nodded
approvingly with a '_pas bête ça!_' (Not stupid, that!)
DEBUSSY'S POÈME FOR VIOLIN
"Debussy came near writing a violin piece for me once!" continued Mr.
Hartmann, and brought out a folio containing letters the great
impressionist had written him. They were a delightful revelation of the
human side of Debussy's character, and Mr. Hartmann kindly consented to
the quotation of one bearing on the _Poème_ for violin which Debussy had
promised to write for him, and which, alas, owing to his illness and
other reasons, never actually came to be written:
"Dear Friend:
"Of course I am working a great deal now, because I feel
the need of writing music, and would find it difficult
to build an aeroplane; yet at times Music is ill-natured,
even toward those who love her most! Then I take my
little daughter and my hat and go walking in the Bois de
Boulogne, where one meets people who have come from afar
to bore themselves in Paris.
"I think of you, I might even say I am in need of you
(assume an air of exaltation and bow, if you please!) As
to the _Poème_ for violin, you may rest assured that I
will write it. Only at the present moment I am so
preoccupied with the 'Fall of the House of Usher!' They
talk too much to me about it. I'll have to put an end to
all that or I will go mad. Once more I want to write it,
and above all _on your account_. And I believe you will
be the only one to play the _Poème_. Others will attempt
it, and then quickly return to the Mendelssohn Concerto!
"Believe me always your sincere friend,
"CLAUDE DEBUSSY."
"He never did write it," said Mr. Hartmann, "but it was not for want of
good will. As to other transcriptions, I have never done any that I did
not feel instinctively would make good fiddle pieces, such as
MacDowell's _To a Wild Rose_ and others of his compositions. And
recently I have transcribed some fine Russian things--Gretchaninoff's
_Chant d'Automne_, Karagitscheff's _Exaltation_, Tschaikovsky's
_Humoresque_, Balakirew's _Chant du Pechêur_, and Poldini's little
_Poupée valsante_, which Maud Powell plays so delightfully on all her
programs."
VII
JASCHA HEIFETZ
THE DANGER OF PRACTICING TOO MUCH.
TECHNICAL MASTERY AND
TEMPERAMENT
Mature in virtuosity--the modern virtuosity which goes so far beyond the
mere technical mastery that once made the term a reproach--though young
in years, Jascha Heifetz, when one makes his acquaintance "off-stage,"
seems singularly modest about the great gifts which have brought him
international fame. He is amiable, unassuming and--the best proof,
perhaps, that his talent is a thing genuine and inborn, not the result
of a forcing process--he has that broad interest in art and in life
going far beyond his own particular medium, the violin, without which no
artist may become truly great. For Jascha Heifetz, with his wonderful
record of accomplishment achieved, and with triumphs still to come
before him, does not believe in "all work and no play."
[Illustration: JASCHA HEIFETZ, with hand-written note]
THE DANGER OF PRACTICING TOO MUCH
He laughed when I put forward the theory that he worked many hours a
day, perhaps as many as six or eight? "No," he said, "I do not think I
could ever have made any progress if I had practiced six hours a day. In
the first place I have never believed in practicing too much--it is just
as bad as practicing too little! And then there are so many other things
I like to do. I am fond of reading and I like sport: tennis, golf,
bicycle riding, boating, swimming, etc. Often when I am supposed to be
practicing hard I am out with my camera, taking pictures; for I have
become what is known as a 'camera fiend.' And just now I have a new car,
which I have learned to drive, and which takes up a good deal of my
time. I have never believed in grinding. In fact I think that if one has
to work very hard to get his piece, it will show in the execution. To
interpret music properly, it is necessary to eliminate mechanical
difficulty; the audience should not feel the struggle of the artist with
what are considered hard passages. I hardly ever practice more than
three hours a day on an average, and besides, I keep my Sunday when I
do not play at all, and sometimes I make an extra holiday. As to six or
seven hours a day, I would not have been able to stand it at all."
I implied that what Mr. Heifetz said might shock thousands of aspiring
young violinists for whom he pointed a moral: "Of course," his answer
was, "you must not take me too literally. Please do not think because I
do not favor overdoing practicing that one can do without it. I'm quite
frank to say I could not myself. But there is a happy medium. I suppose
that when I play in public it looks easy, but before I ever came on the
concert stage I worked very hard. And I do yet--but always putting the
two things together, mental work and physical work. And when a certain
point of effort is reached in practice, as in everything else, there
must be relaxation.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF A VIRTUOSE TECHNIC
"Have I what is called a 'natural' technic? It is hard for me to say,
perhaps so. But if such is the case I had to develop it, to assure it,
to perfect it. If you start playing at three, as I did, with a little
violin one-quarter of the regular size, I suppose violin playing becomes
second nature in the course of time. I was able to find my way about in
all seven positions within a year's time, and could play the Kayser
_études_; but that does not mean to say I was a virtuoso by any means.
"My first teacher? My first teacher was my father, a good violinist and
concertmaster of the Vilna Symphony Orchestra. My first appearance in
public took place in an overcrowded auditorium of the Imperial Music
School in Vilna, Russia, when I was not quite five. I played the
_Fantaisie Pastorale_ with piano accompaniment. Later, at the age of
six, I played the Mendelssohn concerto in Kovno to a full house.
Stage-fright? No, I cannot say I have ever had it. Of course, something
may happen to upset one before a concert, and one does not feel quite at
ease when first stepping on the stage; but then I hope that is not
stage-fright!
"At the Imperial Music School in Vilna, and before, I worked at all the
things every violinist studies--I think that I played almost everything.
I did not work too hard, but I worked hard enough. In Vilna my teacher
was Malkin, a pupil of Professor Auer, and when I had graduated from the
Vilna school I went to Auer. Did I go directly to his classes? Well,
no, but I had only a very short time to wait before I joined the
classes conducted by Auer personally.
PROFESSOR AUER AS A TEACHER
"Yes, he is a wonderful and an incomparable teacher; I do not believe
there is one in the world who can possibly approach him. Do not ask me
just how he does it, for I would not know how to tell you. But he is
different with each pupil--perhaps that is one reason he is so great a
teacher. I think I was with Professor Auer about six years, and I had
both class lessons and private lessons of him, though toward the end my
lessons were not so regular. I never played exercises or technical works
of any kind for the Professor, but outside of the big things--the
concertos and sonatas, and the shorter pieces which he would let me
prepare--I often chose what I wanted.
"Professor Auer was a very active and energetic teacher. He was never
satisfied with a mere explanation, unless certain it was understood. He
could always show you himself with his bow and violin. The Professor's
pupils were supposed to have been sufficiently advanced in the technic
necessary for them to profit by his wonderful lessons in
interpretation. Yet there were all sorts of technical _finesses_ which
he had up his sleeve, any number of fine, subtle points in playing as
well as interpretation which he would disclose to his pupils. And the
more interest and ability the pupil showed, the more the Professor gave
him of himself! He is a very great teacher! Bowing, the true art of
bowing, is one of the greatest things in Professor Auer's teaching. I
know when I first came to the Professor, he showed me things in bowing I
had never learned in Vilna. It is hard to describe in words (Mr. Heifetz
illustrated with some of those natural, unstrained movements of arm and
wrist which his concert appearances have made so familiar), but bowing
as Professor Auer teaches it is a very special thing; the movements of
the bow become more easy, graceful, less stiff.
"In class there were usually from twenty-five to thirty pupils. Aside
from what we each gained individually from the Professor's criticism and
correction, it was interesting to hear the others who played before
one's turn came, because one could get all kinds of hints from what
Professor Auer told them. I know I always enjoyed listening to Poliakin,
a very talented violinist, and Cécile Hansen, who attended the classes
at the same time I did. The Professor was a stern and very exacting, but
a sympathetic, teacher. If our playing was not just what it should be he
always had a fund of kindly humor upon which to draw. He would
anticipate our stock excuses and say: 'Well, I suppose you have just had
your bow rehaired!' or 'These new strings are very trying,' or 'It's the
weather that is against you again, is it not?' or something of the kind.
Examinations were not so easy: we had to show that we were not only
soloists, but also sight readers of difficult music.
A DIFFICULTY OVERCOME
"The greatest technical difficulty I had when I was studying?" Jascha
Heifetz tried to recollect, which was natural, seeing that it must have
been one long since overcome. Then he remembered, and smiled:
"_Staccato_ playing. To get a good _staccato_, when I first tried seemed
very hard to me. When I was younger, really, at one time I had a very
poor _staccato_!" [I assured the young artist that any one who heard him
play here would find it hard to believe this.] "Yes, I did," he
insisted, "but one morning, I do not know just how it was--I was
playing the _cadenza_ in the first movement of Wieniawski's F♯ minor
concerto,--it is full of _staccatos_ and double stops--the right way of
playing _staccato_ came to me quite suddenly, especially after Professor
Auer had shown me his method.
VIOLIN MASTERY
"Violin Mastery? To me it means the ability to make the violin a
perfectly controlled instrument guided by the skill and intelligence of
the artist, to compel it to respond in movement to his every wish. The
artist must always be superior to his instrument, it must be his
servant, one that he can do with what he will.
TECHNICAL MASTERY AND TEMPERAMENT
"It appears to me that mastery of the technic of the violin is not so
much of a mechanical accomplishment as it is of mental nature. It may be
that scientists can tell us how through persistency the brain succeeds
in making the fingers and the arms produce results through the infinite
variety of inexplicable vibrations. The sweetness of tone, its
melodiousness, its _legatos_, octaves, trills and harmonics all bear
the mark of the individual who uses his strings like his vocal chords.
When an artist is working over his harmonics, he must not be impatient
and force purity, pitch, or the right intonation. He must coax the tone,
try it again and again, seek for improvements in his fingering as well
as in his bowing at the same time, and sometimes he may be surprised
how, quite suddenly, at the time when he least expects it, the result
has come. More than one road leads to Rome! The fact is that when you
get it, you have it, that's all! I am perfectly willing to disclose to
the musical profession all the secrets of the mastery of violin technic;
but are there any secrets in the sense that some of the uninitiated take
them? If an artist happens to excel in some particular, he is at once
suspected of knowing some secret means of so doing. However, that may
not be the case. He does it just because it is in him, and as a rule he
accomplishes this through his mental faculties more than through his
mechanical abilities. I do not intend to minimize the value of great
teachers who prove to be important factors in the life of a musician;
but think of the vast army of pupils that a master teacher brings
forth, and listen to the infinite variety of their _spiccatos_,
octaves, _legatos_, and trills! For the successful mastery of violin
technic let each artist study carefully his own individuality, let him
concentrate his mental energy on the quality of pitch he intends to
produce, and sooner or later he will find his way of expressing himself.
Music is not only in the fingers or in the elbow. It is in that
mysterious EGO of the man, it is his soul; and his body is like his
violin, nothing but a tool. Of course, the great master must have the
tools that suit him best, and it is the happy combination that makes for
success.
"By the vibrations and modulations of the notes one may recognize the
violinist as easily as we recognize the singer by his voice. Who can
explain how the artist harmonizes the trilling of his fingers with the
emotions of his soul?
"An artist will never become great through mere imitation, and never
will he be able to attain the best results only by methods adopted by
others. He must have his own initiative, although he will surely profit
by the experience of others. Of course there are standard ways of
approaching the study of violin technic; but these are too well known to
dwell upon them: as to the niceties of the art, they must come from
within. You can make a musician but not an artist!
REPERTORY AND PROGRAMS
"Which of the master works do I like best? Well, that is rather hard to
answer. Each master work has its own beauties. Naturally one likes best
what one understands best, I prefer to play the classics like Brahms,
Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, Mendelssohn, etc. However, I played Bruch's G
minor in 1913 at the Leipzig Gewandhouse with Nikisch, where I was told
that Joachim was the only other violinist as young as myself to appear
there as soloist with orchestra; there is the Tschaikovsky concerto
which I played in Berlin in 1912, with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra
with Nikisch. Alsa Bruch's D minor and many more. I played the
Mendelssohn concerto in 1914, in Vienna, with Safonoff as conductor.
Last season in Chicago I played the Brahms concerto with a fine and very
elaborate _cadenza_ by Professor Auer. I think the Brahms concerto for
violin is like Chopin's music for piano, in a way, because it stands
technically and musically for something quite different and distinct
from other violin music, just as Chopin does from other piano music. The
Brahms concerto is not technically as hard as, say, Paganini--but in
interpretation!... And in the Beethoven concerto, too, there is a
simplicity, a kind of clear beauty which makes it far harder to play
than many other things technically more advanced. The slightest flaw,
the least difference in pitch, in intonation, and its beauty suffers.
"Yes, there are other Russian concertos besides the Tschaikovsky. There
is the Glazounov concerto and others. I understand that Zimbalist was
the first to introduce it in this country, and I expect to play it here
next season.
"Of course one cannot always play concertos, and one cannot always play
Bach and Beethoven. And that makes it hard to select programs. The
artist can always enjoy the great music of his instrument; but an
audience wants variety. At the same time an artist cannot play only just
what the majority of the audience wants. I have been asked to play
Schubert's _Ave Maria_, or Beethoven's _Chorus of Dervishes_ at every
one of my concerts, but I simply cannot play them all the time. I am
afraid if program making were left altogether to audiences the programs
would become far too popular in character; though audiences are just as
different as individuals. I try hard to balance my programs, so that
every one can find something to understand and enjoy. I expect to
prepare some American compositions for next season. Oh, no, not as a
matter of courtesy, but because they are really fine, especially some
smaller pieces by Spalding, Cecil Burleigh and Grasse!"
On concluding our interview Mr. Heifetz made a remark which is worth
repeating, and which many a music lover who is _plus royaliste que le
roi_ might do well to remember: "After all," he said, "much as I love
music, I cannot help feeling that music is not the only thing in life. I
really cannot imagine anything more terrible than always to hear, think
and make music! There is so much else to know and appreciate; and I feel
that the more I learn and know of other things the better artist I will
be!"
VIII
DAVID HOCHSTEIN
THE VIOLIN AS A MEANS OF EXPRESSION
AND EXPRESSIVE PLAYING
The writer talked with Lieutenant David Hochstein, whose death in the
battle of the Argonne Forest was only reported toward the end of
January, while the distinguished young violinist, then only a sergeant,
was on the eve of departure to France with his regiment and, as he
modestly said, his "thoughts on music were rather scattered." Yet he
spoke with keen insight and authority on various phases of his art, and
much of what he said gains point from his own splendid work as a concert
violinist; for Lieutenant Hochstein (whose standing has been established
in numerous European as well as American recitals) could play what he
preached.
SEVČIK AND AUER: A CONTRAST IN TEACHING
Knowing that in the regimental band he was, quite appropriately, a
clarinetist, "the clarinet in the military band being the equivalent of
the violin in the orchestra"--and a scholarship pupil of the Vienna
_Meisterschule_, it seemed natural to ask him concerning his teachers.
And the interesting fact developed that he had studied with the
celebrated Bohemian pedagog Sevčik and with Leopold Auer as well, two
teachers whose ideas and methods differ materially. "I studied with
Sevčik for two years," said the young violinist. "It was in 1909, when a
class of ten pupils was formed for him in the _Meisterschule_, at
Vienna, that I went to him. Sevčik was in many ways a wonderful teacher,
yet inclined to overemphasize the mechanical side of the art. He
literally _taught_ his pupils how to practice, how to develop technical
control by the most slow and painstaking study. In addition to his own
fine method and exercises, he also used Gavinies, Dont, Rode, Kreutzer,
applying in their studies ideas of his own.
"Auer as a teacher I found altogether different. Where Sevčik taught his
pupils the technic of their art by means of a system elaborately worked
out, Auer demonstrated his ideas through sheer personality, mainly from
the interpretative point of view. Any ambitious student could learn much
of value from either; yet in a general way one might express the
difference between them by saying that Sevčik could take a pupil of
medium talent and--at least from the mechanical standpoint--make an
excellent violinist of him. But Auer is an ideal teacher for the greatly
gifted. And he is especially skilled in taking some student of the
violin while his mind is still plastic and susceptible and molding
it--supplying it with lofty concepts of interpretation and expression.
Of course Auer (I studied with him in Petrograd and Dresden) has been
especially fortunate as regards his pupils, too, because active in a
land like Russia, where musical genius has almost become a commonplace.
"Sevčik, though an admirable teacher, personally is of a reserved and
reflective type, quite different from Auer, who is open and expansive. I
might recall a little instance which shows Sevčik's cautious nature, the
care he takes not to commit himself too unreservedly. When I took leave
of him--it was after I had graduated and won my prize--I naturally (like
all his pupils) asked him for his photo. Several other pupils of his
were in the room at the time. He took up his pen (I was looking over
his shoulder), commenced to write _Meinem best_.... And then he stopped,
glanced at the other pupils in the room, and wrote over the _best_ ...
he had already written, the word _liebsten_. But though I would, of
course, have preferred the first inscription, had Sevčik completed it, I
can still console myself that the other, even though I value it, was an
afterthought. But it was a characteristic thing for him to do!
THE VIOLIN AS A MEANS OF EXPRESSION
"What is my idea of the violin as a medium of expression? It seems to me
that it is that of any other valid artistic medium. It is not so much a
question of the violin as of the violinist. A great interpreter reveals
his inner-most soul through his instrument, whatever it may be. Most
people think the violin is more expressive than any other instrument,
but this is open to question. It may be that most people respond more
readily to the appeal made by the violin. But genuine expression,
expressive playing, depends on the message the player has to deliver far
more than on the instrument he uses as a means. I have been as much
moved by some piano playing I have heard as by the violin playing of
some of the greatest violinists.
"And variety, _nuance_ in expressive playing, is largely a matter of the
player's mental attitude. Bach's _Chaconne_ or _Sicilienne_ calls for a
certain humility on the part of the artist. When I play Bach I do it
reverentially; a definite spiritual quality in my tone and expression is
the result. And to select a composer who in many ways is Bach's exact
opposite, Wieniawski, a certain audacious brilliancy cannot help but
make itself felt tonally, if this music is to be played in character.
The mental and spiritual attitude directly influences its own mechanical
transmission. No one artist should criticize another for differences in
interpretation, in expression, so long as they are justified by larger
concepts of art. Individuality is one of the artist's most precious
possessions, and there are always a number of different angles from
which the interpretation of an art work may be approached.
VIOLIN MASTERY
"Violin mastery? There have been only three violinists within my own
recollection, whom I would call masters of the violin. These are
Kubelik (when at his best), Franz von Vecsey, Hubay's pupil, whom I
heard abroad, and Heifetz, with his cameo-like perfection of technic.
These I would call masters of the violin, as an instrument, since they
have mastered every intricacy of the instrument. But I could name
several others who are greater musicians, and whose playing and
interpretation, to say nothing of tone, I prefer.
TONE PRODUCTION: RHYTHM
"In one sense true violin mastery is a question of tone production and
rhythm. And I believe that tone production depends principally upon the
imaginative ear of the player. This statement may seem somewhat
ambiguous, and one might ask, 'What is an imaginative ear?' My ear, for
instance, demands of my violin a certain quality of tone, which varies
according to the music I am playing. But before I think of playing the
music, I already know from reading it what I want it to sound like: that
is to say, the quality of the tone I wish to secure in each principal
phrase. Rhythm is perhaps the greatest factor in interpretation. Every
good musician has a 'good sense of rhythm' (that much abused phrase).
But it is only the _great_ musician who makes so striking and
individual an application of rhythm that his playing may be easily
distinguished by his use of it.
"There is not much to tell you as regards my method of work. I usually
work directly upon a program which has been previously mapped out. If I
have been away from my violin for more than a week or two I begin by
practicing scales, but ordinarily I find my technical work in the
programs I am preparing."
Asked about his band experiences at Camp Upton, Sergeant Hochstein was
enthusiastic. "No violinist could help but gain much from work with a
military band at one of the camps," he said. "For instance, I had a more
or less theoretical knowledge of wind instruments before I went to Camp
Upton. Now I have a practical working knowledge of them. I have already
scored a little violin composition of mine, a 'Minuet in Olden Style'
for full band, and have found it possible by the right manipulation to
preserve its original dainty and graceful character, in spite of the
fact that it is played by more than forty military bandsmen.
"Then, too," he said in conclusion, "I have organized a real orchestra
of twenty-one players, strings, brass, wood-wind, etc., which I hope is
going to be of real use on the other side during our training period in
France. You see, 'over there' the soldier boys' chances for leave are
limited and we will have to depend a good deal on our own selves for
amusement and recreation. I hope and believe my orchestra is not only
going to take its place as one of the most enjoyable features of our
army life; but also that it will make propaganda of the right sort for
the best music in a broad, catholic sense of the word!"
It is interesting to know that this patriotic young officer found
opportunities in camp and in the towns of France of carrying out his
wish to "make propaganda of the right sort for the best music" before he
gave his life to further the greater purpose which had called him
overseas.
IX
FRITZ KREISLER
PERSONALITY IN ART
The influence of the artist's personality in his art finds a most
striking exemplification in the case of Fritz Kreisler. Some time before
the writer called on the famous violinist to get at first hand some of
his opinions with regard to his art, he had already met him under
particularly interesting circumstances. The question had come up of
writing text-poems for two song-adaptations of Viennese folk-themes,
airs not unattractive in themselves; but which Kreisler's personal
touch, his individual gift of harmonization had lifted from a lower
plane to the level of the art song. Together with the mss. of his own
beautiful transcript, Mr. Kreisler in the one instance had given me the
printed original which suggested it--frankly a "popular" song, clumsily
harmonized in a "four-square" manner (though written in 3/4 time) with
nothing to indicate its latent possibilities. I compared it with his
mss. and, lo, it had been transformed! Gone was the clumsiness, the
vulgar and obvious harmonic treatment of the melody--Kreisler had kept
the melodic outline, but etherealized, spiritualized it, given it new
rhythmic _contours_, a deeper and more expressive meaning. And his rich
and subtle harmonization had lent it a quality of distinction that
justified a comparison between the grub and the butterfly. In a small
way it was an illuminating glimpse of how the personality of a true
artist can metamorphose what at first glance might seem something quite
negligible, and create beauty where its possibilities alone had existed
before.
It is this personal, this individual, note in all that Fritz Kreisler
does--when he plays, when he composes, when he transcribes--that gives
his art-effort so great and unique a quality of appeal.
Talking to him in his comfortable sitting-room in the Hotel
Wellington--Homer and Juvenal (in the original) ranked on the piano-top
beside De Vere Stackpole novels and other contemporary literature called
to mind that though Brahms and Beethoven violin concertos are among his
favorites, he does not disdain to play a Granados _Spanish Dance_--it
seemed natural to ask him how he came to make those adaptations and
transcripts which have been so notable a feature of his programs, and
which have given such pleasure to thousands.
[Illustration: FRITZ KREISLER, with hand-written note]
HOW KREISLER CAME TO COMPOSE AND ARRANGE
He said: "I began to compose and arrange as a young man. I wanted to
create a repertory for myself, to be able to express through my medium,
the violin, a great deal of beautiful music that had first to be adapted
for the instrument. What I composed and arranged was for my own use,
reflected my own musical tastes and preferences. In fact, it was not
till years after that I even thought of publishing the pieces I had
composed and arranged. For I was very diffident as to the outcome of
such a step. I have never written anything with the commercial idea of
making it 'playable.' And I have always felt that anything done in a
cold-blooded way for purely mercenary considerations somehow cannot be
good. It cannot represent an artist's best."
AT THE VIENNA CONSERVATORY
In reply to another query Mr. Kreisler reverted to the days when as a
boy he studied at the Vienna Conservatory. "I was only seven when I
attended the Conservatory and was much more interested in playing in the
park, where my boy friends would be waiting for me, than in taking
lessons on the violin. And yet some of the most lasting musical
impressions of my life were gathered there. Not so much as regards study
itself, as with respect to the good music I heard. Some very great men
played at the Conservatory when I was a pupil. There were Joachim,
Sarasate in his prime, Hellmesberger, and Rubinstein, whom I heard play
the first time he came to Vienna. I really believe that hearing Joachim
and Rubinstein play was a greater event in my life and did more for me
than five years of study!"
"Of course you do not regard technic as the main essential of the
concert violinist's equipment?" I asked him. "Decidedly not. Sincerity
and personality are the first main essentials. Technical equipment is
something which should be taken for granted. The _virtuoso_ of the type
of Ole Bull, let us say, has disappeared. The 'stunt' player of a former
day with a repertory of three or four bravura pieces was not far above
the average music-hall 'artist.' The modern _virtuoso_, the true concert
artist, is not worthy of the title unless his art is the outcome of a
completely unified nature.
VIOLIN MASTERY
"I do not believe that any artist is truly a master of his instrument
unless his control of it is an integral part of a whole. The musician is
born--his medium of expression is often a matter of accident. I believe
one may be intended for an artist prenatally; but whether violinist,
'cellist or pianist is partly a matter of circumstance. Violin mastery,
to my mind, still falls short of perfection, in spite of the completest
technical and musical equipment, if the artist thinks only of the
instrument he plays. After all, it is just a single medium of
expression. The true musician is an artist with a special instrument.
And every real artist has the feeling for other forms and mediums of
expression if he is truly a master of his own.
TECHNIC VERSUS IMAGINATION
"I think the technical element in the artist's education is often unduly
stressed. Remember," added Mr. Kreisler, with a smile, "I am not a
teacher, and this is a purely personal opinion I am giving you. But it
seems to me that absolute sincerity of effort, actual impossibility
_not_ to react to a genuine musical impulse are of great importance. I
firmly believe that if one is destined to become an artist the technical
means find themselves. The necessity of expression will follow the line
of least resistance. Too great a manual equipment often leads to an
exaggeration of the technical and tempts the artist to stress it unduly.
"I have worked a great deal in my life, but have always found that too
large an amount of purely technico-musical work fatigued me and reacted
unfavorably on my imagination. As a rule I only practice enough to keep
my fingers in trim; the nervous strain is such that doing more is out of
the question. And for a concert-violinist when on tour, playing every
day, the technical question is not absorbing. Far more important is it
for him to keep himself mentally and physically fresh and in the right
mood for his work. For myself I have to enjoy whatever I play or I
cannot play it. And it has often done me more good to dip my finger-tips
in hot water for a few seconds before stepping out on the platform than
to spend a couple of hours practicing. But I should not wish the student
to draw any deductions from what I say on this head. It is purely
personal and has no general application.
"Technical exercises I use very moderately. I wish my imagination to be
responsive, my interest fresh, and as a rule I have found that too much
work along routine channels does not accord with the best development of
my Art. I feel that technic should be in the player's head, it should be
a mental picture, a sort of 'master record.' It should be a matter of
will power to which the manual possibilities should be subjected.
Technic to me is a mental and not a manual thing.
MENTAL TECHNIC: ITS DRAWBACK AND ITS ADVANTAGE
"The technic thus achieved, a technic whose controlling power is chiefly
mental, is not perfect--I say so frankly--because it is more or less
dependent on the state of the artist's nervous system. Yet it is the one
and only kind of technic that can adequately and completely express the
musician's every instinct, wish and emotion. Every other form of technic
is stiff, unpliable, since it cannot entirely subordinate itself to the
individuality of the artist."
PRACTICE HOURS FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT
Mr. Kreisler gives no lessons and hence referred this question in the
most amiable manner to his boyhood friend and fellow-student Felix
Winternitz, the well-known Boston violin teacher, one of the faculty of
the New England Conservatory of Music, who had come in while we were
talking. Mr. Winternitz did not refuse an answer: "The serious student,
in my opinion, should not practice less than four hours a day, nor need
he practice more than five. Other teachers may demand more. Sevčik, I
know, insists that his pupils practice eight and ten hours a day. To do
so one must have the constitution of an ox, and the results are often
not equal to those produced by four hours of concentrated work. As Mr.
Kreisler intimated with regard to technic, practice calls for brain
power. Concentration in itself is not enough. There is only one way to
work and if the pupil can find it he can cover the labor of weeks in an
hour."
And turning to me, Mr. Winternitz added: "You must not take Mr. Kreisler
too seriously when he lays no stress on his own practicing. During the
concert season he has his violin in hand for an hour or so nearly every
day. He does not call it practicing, and you and I would consider it
playing and great playing at that. But it is a genuine illustration of
what I meant when I said that one who knew how could cover the work of
weeks in an hour's time."
AN EXPLANATION BY MR. WINTERNITZ
I tried to draw from the famous violinist some hint as to the secret of
the abiding popularity of his own compositions and transcripts but--as
those who know him are aware--Kreisler has all the modesty of the truly
great. He merely smiled and said: "Frankly, I don't know." But Mr.
Winternitz' comment (when a 'phone call had taken Kreisler from the room
for a moment) was, "It is the touch given by his accompaniments that
adds so much: a harmonic treatment so rich in design and coloring, and
so varied that melodies were never more beautifully set off." Mr.
Kreisler, as he came in again, remarked: "I don't mind telling you that
I enjoyed very much writing my _Tambourin Chinois_.[A] The idea for it
came to me after a visit to the Chinese theater in San Francisco--not
that the music there suggested any theme, but it gave me the impulse to
write a free fantasy in the Chinese manner."
[Footnote A: It is interesting to note that Nikolai Sokoloff, conductor
of the San Francisco Philharmonic, returning from a tour of the American
and French army camps in France, some time ago, said: "My most popular
number was Kreisler's _Tambourin Chinois_. Invariably I had to repeat
that." A strong indorsement of the internationalism of Art by the actual
fighter in the trenches.]
STYLE, INTERPRETATION AND THE ARTISTIC IDEAL
The question of style now came up. "I am not in favor of 'labeling' the
concert artist, of calling him a 'lyric' or a 'dramatic' or some other
kind of a player. If he is an artist in the real sense he controls all
styles." Then, in answer to another question: "Nothing can express music
but music itself. Tradition in interpretation does not mean a
cut-and-dried set of rules handed down; it is, or should be, a matter
of individual sentiment, of inner conviction. What makes one man an
artist and keeps another an amateur is a God-given instinct for the
artistically and musically right. It is not a thing to be explained, but
to be felt. There is often only a narrow line of demarcation between the
artistically right and wrong. Yet nearly every real artist will be found
to agree as to when and when not that boundary has been overstepped.
Sincerity and personality as well as disinterestedness, an expression of
himself in his art that is absolutely honest, these, I believe, are
ideals which every artist should cherish and try to realize. I believe,
furthermore, that these ideals will come more and more into their own;
that after the war there will be a great uplift, and that Art will
realize to the full its value as a humanizing factor in life." And as is
well known, no great artist of our day has done more toward the actual
realization of these ideals he cherishes than Fritz Kreisler himself.
X
FRANZ KNEISEL
THE PERFECT STRING ENSEMBLE
Is there a lover of chamber music unfamiliar with Franz Kneisel's name?
It may be doubted. After earlier European triumphs the gifted Roumanian
violinist came to this country (1885), and aside from his activities in
other directions--as a solo artist he was the first to play the Brahms
and Goldmark violin concertos, and the César Franck sonata in this
country--organized his famous quartet. And, until his recent retirement
as its director and first violin, it has been perhaps the greatest
single influence toward stimulating appreciation for the best in chamber
music that the country has known. Before the Flonzaley was, the Kneisels
were. They made plain how much of beauty the chamber music repertory
offered the amateur string player; not only in the classic
repertory--Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Spohr; in Schubert, Schumann,
Brahms; but in Smetana, Dvořák and Tschaikovsky; in César Franck,
Debussy and Ravel. Not the least among Kneisel's achievements is, that
while the professional musicians in the cities in which his organization
played attended its concerts as a matter of course, the average music
lover who played a string instrument came to them as well, and carried
away with him a message delivered with all the authority of superb
musicianship and sincerity, one which bade him "go and do likewise," in
so far as his limitations permitted. And the many excellent professional
chamber music organizations, trios, quartets and _ensembles_ of various
kinds which have come to the fore since they began to play offer
eloquent testimony with regard to the cultural work of Kneisel and his
fellow artists.
[Illustration: FRANZ KNEISEL, with signature]
A cheery grate fire burned in the comfortable study in Franz Kneisel's
home; the autographed--in what affectionate and appreciative
terms--pictures of great fellow artists looked down above the book-cases
which hold the scores of those masters of what has been called "the
noblest medium of music in existence," whose beauties the famous quartet
has so often disclosed on the concert stage. And Mr. Kneisel was
amiability personified when I asked him to give me his theory of the
perfect string _ensemble_, and the part virtuosity played in it.
"THE ARTIST RANKS THE VIRTUOSO IN CHAMBER MUSIC"
"The artist, the _Tonkünstler_, to use a foreign phrase, ranks the
virtuoso in chamber music. Joachim was no virtuoso, he did not stress
technic, the less important factor in _ensemble_ playing. Sarasate was a
virtuoso in the best sense of the word; and yet as an _ensemble_ music
player he fell far short of Joachim. As I see it 'virtuoso' is a kind of
flattering title, no more. But a _Tonkünstler_, a 'tone-artist,' though
he must have the virtuoso technic in order to play Brahms and Beethoven
concertos, needs besides a spiritual insight, a deep concept of their
nobility to do them justice--the mere technic demanded for a virtuoso
show piece is not enough.
VIOLIN MASTERY IN THE STRING QUARTET
"You ask me what 'Violin Mastery' means in the string quartet. It has an
altogether different meaning to me, I imagine, than to the violin
virtuoso. Violin mastery in the string _ensemble_ is as much mastery of
self as of technical means. The artist must sink his identity completely
in that of the work he plays, and though the last Beethoven quartets are
as difficult as many violin concertos, they are polyphony, the
combination and interweaving of individual melodies, and they call for a
mastery of repression as well as expression. I realized how keenly alive
the musical listener is to this fact once when our quartet had played in
Alma-Tadema's beautiful London home, for the great English painter was
also a music-lover and a very discriminating one. He had a fine piano in
a beautifully decorated case, and it was an open secret that at his
musical evenings, after an artist had played, the lid of the piano was
raised, and Sir Lawrence asked him to pencil his autograph on the soft
white wood of its inner surface--_but only if he thought the compliment
deserved_. There were some famous names written there--Joachim,
Sarasate, Paderewski, Neruda, Piatti, to mention a few. Naturally an
artist playing at Alma-Tadema's home for the first time could not help
speculating as to his chances. Many were called, but comparatively few
were chosen. We were guests at a dinner given by Sir Lawrence. There
were some fifty people prominent in London's artistic, musical and
social world present, and we had no idea of being asked to play. Our
instruments were at our hotel and we had to send for them. We played the
Schubert quartet in A minor and Dvořák's 'American' quartet and, of
course, my colleagues and myself forgot all about the piano lid the
moment we began to play. Yet, I'm free to confess, that when the piano
lid was raised for us we appreciated it, for it was no empty compliment
coming from Sir Lawrence, and I have been told that some very
distinguished artists have not had it extended to them. And I know that
on that evening the phrase 'Violin Mastery' in an _ensemble_ sense, as
the outcome of ceaseless striving for coördination in expression,
absolute balance, and all the details that go to make up the perfect
_ensemble_, seemed to us to have a very definite color and meaning.
THE FIRST VIOLIN IN THE STRING QUARTET
"What exactly does the first violin represent?" Mr. Kneisel went on in
answer to another question. "The first violin might be called the
chairman of the string meeting. His is the leading voice. Not that he
should be an autocrat, no, but he must hold the reins of discipline.
Many think that the four string players in a quartet have equal rights.
First of all, and above all, are the rights of the composer, Bach,
Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert,--as the case may be. But from the
standpoint of interpretation the first violin has some seventy per cent.
of the responsibility as compared with thirty per cent. for the
remaining voices. In all the famous quartet organizations, Joachim,
Hellmesberger, etc., the first violin has been the directing instrument
and has set the pace. As chairman it has been his duty to say when
second violin, viola and 'cello were entitled to hold the floor.
Hellmesberger, in fact, considered himself the _whole_ quartet." Mr.
Kneisel smiled and showed me a little book of Hellmesberger's Vienna
programs. Each program was headed:
HELLMESBERGER QUARTET
with the assistance of
MESSRS. MATH. DURST, CARL HEISSLER,
CARL SCHLESINGER
"In other words, Hellmesberger was the quartet himself, the other three
artists merely 'assisted,' which, after all, is going too far!
"Of course, quartets differ. Just as we have operas in which the alto
solo _rôle_ is the most important, so we have quartets in which the
'cello or the viola has a more significant part. Mozart dedicated
quartets to a King of Prussia, who played 'cello, and he was careful to
make the 'cello part the most important. And in Smetana's quartet _Aus
meinem Leben_, the viola plays a most important rôle. Even the second
violin often plays themes introducing principal themes of the first
violin, and it has its brief moments of prominence. Yet, though the
second violin or the 'cellist may be, comparatively speaking, a better
player than the first violin, the latter is and must be the leader.
Practically every composer of chamber music recognizes the fact in his
compositions. He, the first violin, should not command three slaves,
though; but guide three associates, and do it tactfully with regard to
their individuality and that of their instruments.
"ENSEMBLE" REHEARSING
"You ask what are the essentials of _ensemble_ practice on the part of
the artists? Real reverence, untiring zeal and punctuality at
rehearsals. And then, an absolute sense of rhythm. I remember
rehearsing a Volkmann quartet once with a new second violinist." [Mr.
Kneisel crossed over to his bookcase and brought me the score to
illustrate the rhythmic point in question, one slight in itself yet as
difficult, perhaps, for a player without an absolute sense of rhythm as
"perfect intonation" would be for some others.] "He had a lovely tone, a
big technic and was a prize pupil of the Vienna Conservatory. We went
over this two measure phrase some sixteen times, until I felt sure he
had grasped the proper accentuation. And he was most amiable and willing
about it, too. But when we broke up he pointed to the passage and said
to me with a smile: 'After all, whether you play it _this_ way, or
_that_ way, what's the difference?' Then I realized that he had stressed
his notes correctly a few times by chance, and that his own sense of
rhythm did not tell him that there were no two ways about it. The
rhythmic and tonal _nuances_ in a quartet cannot be marked too perfectly
in order to secure a beautiful and finished performance. And such a
violinist as the one mentioned, in spite of his tone and technic, was
never meant for an _ensemble_ player.
"I have never believed in a quartet getting together and 'reading' a
new work as a preparation for study. As first violin I have always made
it my business to first study the work in score, myself, to study it
until I knew the whole composition absolutely, until I had a mental
picture of its meaning, and of the interrelation of its four voices in
detail. Thirty-two years of experience have justified my theory. Once
the first violin knows the work the practicing may begin; for he is in a
position gradually and tactfully to guide the working-out of the
interpretation without losing time in the struggle to correct faults in
balance which are developed in an unprepared 'reading' of the work.
There is always one important melody, and it is easier to find it
studying the score, to trace it with eye and mind in its contrapuntal
web, than by making voyages of discovery in actual playing.
"Every player has his own qualities, every instrument its own
advantages. Certain passages in a second violin or viola part may be
technically better suited to the hand of the player, to the nature of
the instrument, and--they will sound better than others. Yet from the
standpoint of the composition the passages that 'lie well' are often not
the more important. This is hard for the player--what is easy for him
he unconsciously is inclined to stress, and he must be on his guard
against it. This is another strong argument in favor of a thorough
preliminary study on the part of the leading violin of the construction
of the work."
THE FIRST VIOLIN IN CHAMBER MUSIC VERSUS
THE ORCHESTRA CONDUCTOR
The comparison which I asked Mr. Kneisel to make is one which he could
establish with authority. Aside from his experience as director of his
quartet, he has been the _concert-meister_ of such famous foreign
orchestras as Bilse's and that of the _Hofburg Theater_ in Vienna and,
for eighteen years, of the Boston Symphony Orchestra in this country. He
has also conducted over one hundred concerts of the Boston Symphony, and
was director of the Worcester Music Festivals.
"Nikisch once said to me, after he had heard us play the Schumann A
minor quartet in Boston: 'Kneisel, it was beautiful, and I felt that you
had more difficulty in developing it than I have with an orchestral
score!' And I think he was right. First of all the symphonic conductor
is an autocrat. There is no appeal from the commands of his baton. But
the first violin of a quartet is, in a sense, only the 'first among
peers.' The velvet glove is an absolute necessity in his case. He must
gain his art ends by diplomacy and tact, he must always remember that
his fellow artists are solo players. If he is arbitrary, no matter how
right he may be, he disturbs that fine feeling of artistic fellowship,
that delicate balance of individual temperaments harmonized for and by a
single purpose. In this connection I do not mind confessing that though
I enjoy a good game of cards, I made it a rule never to play cards with
my colleagues during the hours of railroad traveling involved in keeping
our concert engagements. I played chess. In chess the element of luck
does not enter. Each player is responsible for what he does or leaves
undone. And defeat leaves no such sting as it does when all may be
blamed on chance. In an _ensemble_ that strives for perfection there
must be no undercurrents of regret, of dissatisfaction--nothing that
interferes with the sympathy and good will which makes each individual
artist do his best. And so I have never regretted giving cards the
go-by!"
HINTS TO THE SERIOUS VIOLIN STUDENT
Of late years Mr. Kneisel's activity as a teacher has added to his
reputation. Few teachers can point to a galaxy of artist pupils which
includes such names as Samuel Gardner, Sascha Jacobsen, Breskin, Helen
Jeffry and Olive Meade (who perpetuates the ideals of his great string
_ensemble_ in her own quartet). "What is the secret of your method?" I
asked him first of all. "Method is hardly the word," he told me. "It
sounds too cut-and-dried. I teach according to principles, which must,
of course, vary in individual cases; yet whose foundation is fixed. And
like Joachim, or Leschetiszky, I have preparatory teachers.
THE GENERAL FAULT
"My experience has shown me that the fundamental fault of most pupils is
that they do not know how to hold either the bow or the violin. Here in
America the violin student as a rule begins serious technical study too
late, contrary to the European practice. It is a great handicap to begin
really serious work at seventeen or eighteen, when the flexible bones
of childhood have hardened, and have not the pliability needed for
violin gymnastics. It is a case of not bending the twig as you want the
tree to grow in time. And those who study professionally are often more
interested in making money as soon as possible than in bending all their
energies on reaching the higher levels of their art. Many a promising
talent never develops because its possessor at seventeen or eighteen is
eager to earn money as an orchestra or 'job' player, instead of
sacrificing a few years more and becoming a true artist. I've seen it
happen time and again: a young fellow really endowed who thinks he can
play for a living and find time to study and practice 'after hours.' And
he never does!
"But to return to the general fault of the violin student. There is a
certain angle at which the bow should cross the strings in order to
produce those vibrations which give the roundest, fullest, most perfect
tone [he took his own beautiful instrument out of its case to illustrate
the point], and the violin must be so held that the bow moves straight
across the strings in this manner. A deviation from the correct attack
produces a scratchy tone. And it is just in the one fundamental thing:
the holding of the violin in exactly the same position when it is taken
up by the player, never varying by so much as half-an-inch, and the
correct attack by the bow, in which the majority of pupils are
deficient. If the violin is not held at the proper angle, for instance,
it is just as though a piano were to stand on a sloping floor. Too many
students play 'with the violin' on the bow, instead of holding the
violin steady, and letting the bow play.
"And in beginning to study, this apparently simple, yet fundamentally
important, principle is often overlooked or neglected. Joachim, when he
studied as a ten-year-old boy under Hellmesberger in Vienna, once played
a part in a concerto by Maurer, for four violins and piano. His teacher
was displeased: 'You'll never be a fiddler!' he told him, 'you use your
bow too stiffly!' But the boy's father took him to Böhm, and he remained
with this teacher for three years, until his fundamental fault was
completely overcome. And if Joachim had not given his concentrated
attention to his bowing while there was still time, he would never have
been the great artist he later became.
THE ART OF THE BOW
"You see," he continued, "the secret of really beautiful violin playing
lies in the bow. A Blondin crossing Niagara finds his wire hard and firm
where he first steps on it. But as he progresses it vibrates with
increasing intensity. And as the tight-rope walker knows how to control
the vibrations of his wire, so the violinist must master the vibrations
of his strings. Each section of the string vibrates with a different
quality of tone. Most pupils think that a big tone is developed by
pressure with the bow--yet much depends on what part of the string this
pressure is applied. Fingering is an art, of course, but the great art
is the art of the bow, the 'art of bowing,' as Tartini calls it. When a
pupil understands it he has gone far.
"Every pupil may be developed to a certain degree without ever
suspecting how important a factor the manipulation of the bow will be in
his further progress. He thinks that if the fingers of his left hand are
agile he has gained the main end in view. But then he comes to a
stop--his left hand can no longer aid him, and he finds that if he wants
to play with real beauty of expression the bow supplies the only true
key. Out of a hundred who reach this stage," Mr. Kneisel went on, rather
sadly, "only some five or six, or even less, become great artists. They
are those who are able to control the bow as well as the left hand. All
real art begins with phrasing, and this, too, lies altogether in the
mastery of bow--the very soul of the violin!"
I asked Mr. Kneisel how he came to write his own "Advanced Exercises"
for the instrument. "I had an idea that a set of studies, in which each
single study presented a variety of technical figures might be a relief
from the exercises in so many excellent methods, where pages of scales
are followed by pages of arpeggios, pages of double-notes and so forth.
It is very monotonous to practice pages and pages of a single technical
figure," he added. "Most pupils simply will not do it!" He brought out a
copy of his "Exercises" and showed me their plan. "Here, for instance, I
have scales, trills, arpeggios--all in the same study, and the study is
conceived as a musical composition instead of a technical formula. This
is a study in finger position, with all possible bowings. My aim has
been to concentrate the technical material of a whole violin school in
a set of _études_ with musical interest."
And he showed me the second book of the studies, in ms., containing
exercises in every variety of scale, and trill, bowing, _nuance_, etc.,
combined in a single musical movement. This volume also contains his own
cadenza to the Beethoven violin concerto. In conclusion Mr. Kneisel laid
stress on the importance of the student's hearing the best music at
concert and recital as often as possible, and on the value and incentive
supplied by a musical atmosphere in the home and, on leaving him, I
could not help but feel that what he had said in our interview, his
reflections and observations based on an artistry beyond cavil, and an
authoritative experience, would be well worth pondering by every serious
student of the instrument. For Franz Kneisel speaks of what he knows.
XI
ADOLFO BETTI
THE TECHNIC OF THE MODERN QUARTET
What lover of chamber music in its more perfect dispensations is not
familiar with the figure of Adolfo Betti, the guiding brain and bow of
the Flonzaley Quartet? Born in Florence, he played his first public
concert at the age of six, yet as a youth found it hard to choose
between literature, for which he had decided aptitude,[A] and music.
Fortunately for American concert audiences of to-day, he finally
inclined to the latter. An exponent of what many consider the greatest
of all violinistic schools, the Belgian, he studied for four years with
César Thomson at Liège, spent four more concertizing in Vienna and
elsewhere, and returned to Thomson as the latter's assistant in the
Brussels Conservatory, three years before he joined the Flonzaleys, in
1903. With pleasant recollections of earlier meetings with this gifted
artist, the writer sought him out, and found him amiably willing to talk
about the modern quartet and its ideals, ideals which he personally has
done so much to realize.
[Footnote A: M. Betti has published a number of critical articles in the
_Guide Musical_ of Brussels, the _Rivista Musicale_ of Turin, etc.]
THE MODERN QUARTET
"You ask me how the modern quartet differs from its predecessors?" said
Mr. Betti. "It differs in many ways. For one thing the modern quartet
has developed in a way that makes its inner voices--second violin and
viola--much more important than they used to be. Originally, as in
Haydn's early quartets, we have a violin solo with three accompanying
instruments. In Beethoven's last quartets the intermediate voices have
already gained a freedom and individuality which before him had not even
been suspected. In these last quartets Beethoven has already set forth
the principle which was to become the basis of modern polyphony: '_first
of all_ to allow each voice to express itself freely and fully, and
_afterward_ to see what the relations were of one to the other.' In
fact, no one has exercised a more revolutionary effect on the quartet
than Beethoven--no one has made it attain so great a degree of
progress. And surely the distance separating the quartet as Beethoven
found it, from the quartet as he left it (Grand Fugue, Op. 131, Op.
132), is greater than that which lies between the Fugue Op. 132, and the
most advanced modern quartet, let us say, for instance, Schönberg's Op.
7. Schönberg, by the way, has only applied and developed the principles
established by Beethoven in the latter's last quartets. But in the
modern quartet we have a new element, one which tends more and more to
become preponderant, and which might be called _orchestral_ rather than
_da camera_. Smetana, Grieg, Tschaikovsky were the first to follow this
path, in which the majority of the moderns, including Franck and
Debussy, have followed them. And in addition, many among the most
advanced modern composers _strive for orchestral effects that often lie
outside the natural capabilities of the strings_!
[Illustration: ADOLFO BETTI, with hand-written note]
"For instance Stravinsky, in the first of his three impressionistic
sketches for quartet (which we have played), has the first violin play
_ponticello_ throughout, not the natural _ponticello_, but a quite
special one, to produce an effect of a bag-pipe sounding at a distance.
I had to try again and again till I found the right technical means to
produce the effect desired. Then, the 'cello is used to imitate the
drum; there are special technical problems for the second violin--a
single sustained D, with an accompanying _pizzicato_ on the open
strings--while the viola is required to suggest the tramp of marching
feet. And, again, in other modern quartets we find special technical
devices undreamt of in earlier days. Borodine, for instance, is the
first to systematically employ successions of harmonics. In the trio of
his first quartet the melody is successively introduced by the 'cello
and the first violin, altogether in harmonics.
THE MODERN QUARTET AND AMATEUR PLAYERS
"You ask me whether the average quartet of amateurs, of lovers of string
music, can get much out of the more modern quartets. I would say yes,
but with some serious reservations. There has been much beautiful music
written, but most of it is complicated. In the case of the older
quartets, Haydn, Mozart, etc., even if they are not played well, the
performers can still obtain an idea of the music, of its thought
content. But in the modern quartets, unless each individual player has
mastered every technical difficulty, the musical idea does not pierce
through, there is no effect.
"I remember when we rehearsed the first Schönberg quartet. It was in
1913, at a Chicago hotel, and we had no score, but only the separate
parts. The results, at our first attempt, were so dreadful that we
stopped after a few pages. It was not till I had secured a score,
studied it and again tried it that we began to see a light. Finally
there was not one measure which we did not understand. But Schönberg,
Reger, Ravel quartets make too great a demand on the technical ability
of the average quartet amateur.
THE TECHNIC OF QUARTET PLAYING
"Naturally, the first violin is the leader, the Conductor of the
quartet, as in its early days, although the 'star' system, with one
virtuose player and three satellites, has disappeared. Now the quartet
as a whole has established itself in the _virtuoso_ field--using the
word _virtuoso_ in its best sense. The Müller quartet (Hanover),
1845-1850, was the first to travel as a chamber music organization, and
the famous _Florentiner_ Quartet the first to realize what could be
done in the way of finish in playing. As _premier violiniste_ of the
Flonzaley's I study and prepare the interpretation of the works we are
to play before any rehearsing is done.
"While the first violin still holds first place in the modern quartet,
the second violin has become much more important than formerly; it has
gained in individuality. In many of the newer quartets it is quite as
important as the first. In Hugo Wolf's quartet, for example, first and
second violins are employed as though in a concerto for two violins.
"The viola, especially in modern French works--Ravel, Debussy,
Samazeuil--has a prominent part. In the older quartets one reason the
viola parts are simple is because the alto players as a rule were
technically less skillful. As a general thing they were violinists who
had failed--'the refugees of the G clef,' as Edouard Colonne, the
eminent conductor, once wittily said. But the reason modern French
composers give the viola special attention is because France now is
ahead of the other nations in virtuose viola playing. It is practically
the only country which may be said to have a 'school' of viola playing.
In the Smetana quartet the viola plays a most important part, and
Dvořák, who himself played viola, emphasized the instrument in his
quartets.
"Mozart showed what the 'cello was able to do in the quartets he
dedicated to the ''cellist king,' Frederick William of Prussia. And
then, the 'cello has always the musical importance which attaches to it
as the lower of the two 'outer voices' of the quartet _ensemble_. Like
the second violin and viola, it has experienced a technical and musical
development beyond anything Haydn or Mozart would have dared to write.
REHEARSING
"Realization of the Art aims of the modern quartet calls for endless
rehearsal. Few people realize the hard work and concentrated effort
entailed. And there are always new problems to solve. After preparing a
new score in advance, we meet and establish its general idea, its broad
outlines in actual playing. And then, gradually, we fill in the details.
Ordinarily we rehearse three hours a day, less during the concert
season, of course; but always enough to keep absolutely in trim. And we
vary our practice programs in order to keep mentally fresh as well as
technically fit.
INTONATION
"Perfect intonation is a great problem--one practically unknown to the
average amateur quartet player. Four players may each one of them be
playing in tune, in pitch; yet their chords may not be truly in tune,
because of the individual bias--a trifle sharp, a trifle flat--in
interpreting pitch. This individual bias may be caused by the attraction
existing between certain notes, by differences of register and _timbre_,
or any number of other reasons--too many to recount. The true beauty of
the quartet tone cannot be obtained unless there is an exact adjustment,
a tempering of the individual pitch of each instrument, till perfect
accordance exists. This is far more difficult and complicated than one
might at first believe. For example, let us take one of the simplest
violin chords," said Mr. Betti [and he rapidly set it down in pencil].
[Illustration: Musical Notation]
"Now let us begin by fixing the B so that it is perfectly in tune with
the E, then _without at all changing_ the B, take the interval D-B. You
will see that the sixth will not be in tune. Repeat the experiment,
inverting the notes: the result will still be the same. Try it yourself
some time," added Mr. Betti with a smile, "and you will see. What is the
reason? It is because the middle B has not been adjusted, tempered! Give
the same notes to the first and second violins and the viola and you
will have the same result. Then, when the 'cello is added, the problem
is still more complicated, owing to the difference in _timbre_ and
register. Yet it is a problem which can be solved, and is solved in
practically everything we play.
"Another difficulty, especially in the case of some of the _very daring_
chords encountered in modern compositions, is the matter of balance
between the individual notes. There are chords which only _sound well_
if certain notes are thrown into relief; and others only if played very
softly (almost as though they were overtones). To overcome such
difficulties means a great deal of work, real musical instinct and,
above all, great familiarity with the composer's harmonic processes. Yet
with time and patience the true balance of tone can be obtained.
TEMPO
"All four individual players must be able to _feel_ the tempo they are
playing in the same way. I believe it was Mahler who once gave out a
beat very distinctly--one, two, three--told his orchestra players to
count the beat silently for twenty measures and then stop. As each
_felt_ the beat differently from the other, every one of them stopped at
a different time. So _tempo_, just like intonation, must be 'tempered'
by the four quartet players in order to secure perfect rhythmic
inflection.
DYNAMICS
"Modern composers have wonderfully improved dynamic expression. Every
little shade of meaning they make clear with great distinctness. The
older composers, and occasionally a modern like Emanuel Moor, do not use
expression marks. Moor says, 'If the performers really have something to
put into my work the signs are not needed.' Yet this has its
disadvantages. I once had an entirely unmarked Sonata by Sammartini. As
most first movements in the sonatas of that composer are _allegros_ I
tried the beginning several times as an _allegro_, but it sounded
radically wrong. Then, at last, it occurred to me to try it as a _largo_
and, behold, it was beautiful!
INTERPRETATION
"If the leader of the quartet has lived himself into and mastered a
composition, together with his associates, the result is sure. I must
live in the music I play just as an actor must live the character he
represents. All higher interpretation depends on solving technical
problems in a way which is not narrowly mechanical. And while the
_ensemble_ spirit must be preserved, the freedom of the individual
should not be too much restrained. Once the style and manner of a modern
composer are familiar, it is easier to present his works: when we first
played the Reger quartet here some twenty years ago, we found pages
which at first we could not at all understand. If one has fathomed
Debussy, it is easier to play Milhaud, Roger-Ducasse, Samazeuil--for the
music of the modern French school has much in common. One great cultural
value the professional quartet has for the musical community is the fact
that it gives a large circle a measure of acquaintance with the mode of
thought and style of composers whose symphonic and larger works are
often an unknown quantity. This applies to Debussy, Reger, the modern
Russians, Bloch and others. When we played the Stravinsky pieces here,
for instance, his _Pétrouschka_ and _Firebird_ had not yet been heard.
SOME IDEALS
"We try, as an organization, to be absolutely catholic in taste. Nor do
we neglect the older music, because we play so much of the new. This
year we are devoting special attention to the American composers.
Formerly the Kneisels took care of them, and now we feel that we should
assume this legacy. We have already played Daniel Gregory Mason's fine
_Intermezzo_, and the other American numbers we have played include
David Stanley Smith's _Second Quartet_, and movements from quartets by
Victor Kolar and Samuel Gardner. We are also going to revive Charles
Martin Loeffler's _Rhapsodies_ for viola, oboe and piano.
"I have been for some time making a collection of sonatas _a tre_, two
violins and 'cello--delightful old things by Sammartini, Leclair, the
Englishman Boyce, Friedemann Bach and others. This is material from
which the amateur could derive real enjoyment and profit. The Leclair
sonata in D minor we have played some three hundred times; and its slow
movement is one of the most beautiful _largos_ I know of in all chamber
music. The same thing could be done in the way of transcription for
chamber music which Kreisler has already done so charmingly for the solo
violin. And I would dearly love to do it! There are certain 'primitives'
of the quartet--Johann Christian Bach, Gossec, Telemann, Michel
Haydn--who have written music full of the rarest melodic charm and
freshness. I have much excellent material laid by, but as you know,"
concluded Mr. Betti with a sigh, "one has so little time for anything in
America."
XII
HANS LETZ
THE TECHNIC OF BOWING
Hans Letz, the gifted Alsatian violinist, is well fitted to talk on any
phase of his Art. A pupil of Joachim (he came to this country in 1908),
he was for three years concertmaster of the Thomas orchestra, appearing
as a solo artist in most of our large cities, and was not only one of
the Kneisels (he joined that organization in 1912), but the leader of a
quartet of his own. As a teacher, too, he is active in giving others an
opportunity to apply the lessons of his own experience.
VIOLIN MASTERY
When asked for his definition of the term, Mr. Letz said: "There can be
no such thing as an _absolute_ mastery of the violin. Mastery is a
relative term. The artist is first of all more or less dependent on
circumstances which he cannot control--his mood, the weather, strings,
a thousand and one incidentals. And then, the nearer he gets to his
ideal, the more apt his ideal is to escape him. Yet, discounting all
objections, I should say that a master should be able to express
perfectly the composer's idea, reflected by his own sensitive soul.
THE KEY TO INTERPRETATION
"The bow is the key to this mastery in expression, in interpretation: in
a lesser degree the left hand. The average pupil does not realize this
but believes that mere finger facility is the whole gist of technic. Yet
the richest color, the most delicate _nuance_, is mainly a matter of
bowing. In the left hand, of course, the _vibrato_ gives a certain
amount of color effect, the intense, dramatic tone quality of the rapid
_vibrato_ is comparable on the violin to the _tremulando_ of the singer.
At the same time the _vibrato_ used to excess is quite as bad as an
excessive _tremulando_ in the voice. But control of the bow is the key
to the gates of the great field of declamation, it is the means of
articulation and accent, it gives character, comprising the entire scale
of the emotions. In fact, declamation with the violin bow is very much
like declamation in dramatic art. And the attack of the bow on the
string should be as incisive as the utterance of the first accented
syllable of a spoken word. The bow is emphatically the means of
expression, but only the advanced pupil can develop its finer, more
delicate expressional possibilities.
THE TECHNIC OF BOWING
"Genius does many things by instinct. And it sometimes happens that very
great performers, trying to explain some technical function, do not know
how to make their meaning clear. With regard to bowing, I remember that
Joachim (a master colorist with the bow) used to tell his students to
play largely with the wrist. What he really meant was with an
elbow-joint movement, that is, moving the bow, which should always be
connected with a movement of the forearm by means of the elbow-joint.
The ideal bow stroke results from keeping the joints of the right arm
loose, and at the same time firm enough to control each motion made. A
difficult thing for the student is to learn to draw the bow across the
strings _at a right angle_, the only way to produce a good tone. I find
it helps my pupils to tell them not to think of the position of the
bow-arm while drawing the bow across the strings, but merely to follow
with the tips of the fingers of the right hand an imaginary line running
at a right angle across the strings. The whole bow then moves as it
should, and the arm motions unconsciously adjust themselves.
RHYTHM AND COLOR
"Rhythm is the foundation of all music--not rhythm in its metronomic
sense, but in the broader sense of proportion. I lay the greatest stress
on the development of rhythmic sensibility in the student. Rhythm gives
life to every musical phrase." Mr. Letz had a Brahms' quartet open on
his music stand. Playing the following passage, he said:
[Illustration: Musical Notation]
"In order to give this phrase its proper rhythmic value, to express it
clearly, plastically, there must be a very slight separation between the
sixteenths and the eighth-note following them. This--the bow picked up a
trifle from the strings--throws the sixteenths into relief. As I have
already said, tone color is for the main part controlled by the bow. If
I draw the bow above the fingerboard instead of keeping it near the
bridge, I have a decided contrast in color. This color contrast may
always be established: playing near the bridge results in a clear and
sharp tone, playing near the fingerboard in a veiled and velvety one.
SUGGESTIONS IN TEACHING
"I find that, aside from the personal illustration absolutely necessary
when teaching, that an appeal to the pupil's imagination usually bears
fruit. In developing tone-quality, let us say, I tell the pupil his
phrases should have a golden, mellow color, the tonal equivalent of the
hues of the sunrise. I vary my pictures according to the circumstances
and the pupil, in most cases, reacts to them. In fast bowings, for
instance, I make three color distinctions or rather sound distinctions.
There is the 'color of rain,' when a fast bow is pushed gently over the
strings, while not allowed to jump; the 'color of snowflakes' produced
when the hairs of the bow always touch the strings, and the wood dances;
and 'the color of hail' (which seldom occurs in the classics), when in
the real characteristic _spiccato_ the whole bow leaves the string."
THE ART AND THE SCHOOLS
In reply to another question, Mr. Letz added: "Great violin playing is
great violin playing, irrespective of school or nationality. Of course
the Belgians and French have notable elegance, polish, finish in detail.
The French lay stress on sensuous beauty of tone. The German temperament
is perhaps broader, neglecting sensuous beauty for beauty of idea,
developing the scholarly side. Sarasate, the Spaniard, is a unique
national figure. The Slavs seem to have a natural gift for the
violin--perhaps because of centuries of repression--and are passionately
temperamental. In their playing we find that melancholy, combined with
an intense craving for joy, which runs through all Slavonic music and
literature. Yet, all said and done, Art is and remains first of all
international, and the great violinist is a great artist, no matter what
his native land."
XIII
DAVID MANNES
THE PHILOSOPHY OF VIOLIN TEACHING
That David Mannes, the well-known violinist and conductor, so long
director of the New York Music School Settlement, would be able to speak
in an interesting and authoritative manner on his art, was a foregone
conclusion in the writer's mind. A visit to the educator's own beautiful
"Music School" confirmed this conviction. In reply to some questions
concerning his own study years Mr. Mannes spoke of his work with
Heinrich de Ahna, Karl Halir and Eugène Ysaye. "When I came to de Ahna
in Berlin, I was, unfortunately, not yet ready for him, and so did not
get much benefit from his instruction. In the case of Halir, to whom I
went later, I was in much better shape to take advantage of what he
could give me, and profited accordingly. It is a point any student may
well note--that when he thinks of studying with some famous teacher
he be technically and musically equipped to take advantage of all that
the latter may be able to give him. Otherwise it is a case of love's
labor lost on the part of both. Karl Halir was a sincere and very
thorough teacher. He was a Spohr player _par excellence_, and I have
never found his equal in the playing of Spohr's _Gesangsscene_. With him
I studied Kreutzer, Rode, Fiorillo; and to know Halir as a teacher was
to know him at his best; since as a public performer--great violinist as
he was--he did not do himself justice, because he was too nervous and
high-strung.
[Illustration: DAVID MANNES, with hand-written note]
STUDYING WITH YSAYE
"It was while sitting among the first violins in the New York Symphony
Orchestra that I first heard Ysaye. And for the first time in my life I
heard a man with whom I fervently _wanted_ to study; an artist whose
whole attitude with regard to tone and sound reproduction embodied my
ideals.
"I worked with Ysaye in Brussels and in his cottage at Godinne. Here he
taught much as Liszt did at Weimar, a group of from ten to twenty
disciples. Early in the morning he went fishing in the Meuse, then back
to breakfast and then came the lessons: not more than three or four a
day. Those who studied drew inspiration from him as the pianists of the
Weimar circle did from their Master. In fact, Ysaye's standpoint toward
music had a good deal in common with Rubinstein's and he often said he
wished he could play the violin as Rubinstein did the piano. Ysaye is an
artist who has transcended his own medium--he has become a poet of
sound. And unless the one studying with him could understand and
appreciate this fact he made a poor teacher. But to me, in all humility,
he was and will always remain a wonderful inspiration. As an influence
in my career his marvelous genius is unique. In my own teaching I have
only to recall his tone, his playing in his little cottage on the banks
of the Meuse which the tide of war has swept away, to realize in a
cumulative sense the things he tried to make plain to me then. Ysaye
taught the technic of expression as against the expression of technic.
He gave the lessons of a thousand teachers in place of the lessons of
one. The greatest technical development was required by Ysaye of a
pupil; and given this pre-requisite, he could open up to him ever
enlarging horizons of musical beauty.
"Nor did he think that the true beauty of violin playing must depend
upon six to eight hours of daily practice work. I absolutely believe
with Ysaye that unless a student can make satisfactory progress with
three hours of practice a day, he should not attempt to play the violin.
Inability to do so is in itself a confession of failure at the outset.
Nor do I think it possible to practice the violin intensively more than
three-quarters of an hour at a time. In order to utilize his three hours
of practice to the best advantage the student should divide them into
four periods, with intervals of rest between each, and these rest
periods might simply represent a transfer of energy--which is a rest in
itself--to reading or some other occupation not necessarily germane to
music, yet likely to stimulate interest in some other art.
SOME INITIAL PRINCIPLES OF VIOLIN STUDY
"The violin student first and foremost should accustom himself to
practicing purely technical exercises without notes. The scales and
arpeggios should never be played otherwise and books of scales should be
used only as a reference. Quite as important as scale practice are
broken chords. On the violin these cannot be played _solidly_, as on the
piano; but must be studied as arpeggios, in the most exhaustive way,
harmonically and technically. Their great value lies in developing an
innate musical sense, in establishing an idea of tonality and harmony
that becomes so deeply rooted that every other key is as natural to the
player as is the key of C. Work of this kind can never be done ideally
in class. But every individual student must himself come to realize the
necessity of doing technical work without notes as a matter of daily
exercise, even though his time be limited. Perhaps the most difficult of
all lessons is learning to hold the violin. There are pupils to whom
holding the instrument presents insurmountable obstacles. Such pupils,
instead of struggling in vain with a physical difficulty, might rather
take up the study of the 'cello, whose weight rests on the floor. That
many a student was not intended to be a violin player by nature is
proved by the various inventions, chin-rests, braces, intended to supply
what nature has not supplied. The study of the violin should never be
allowed if it is going to result in actual physical deformity: raising
of the left shoulder, malformation of the back, or eruptions resulting
from chin-rest pressure. These are all evidences of physical unfitness,
or of incorrect teaching.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF VIOLIN TEACHING
"Class study is for the advanced student, not the beginner. In the
beginning only the closest personal contact between the individual pupil
and the teacher is desirable. To borrow an analogy from nature, the
student may be compared to the young bird whose untrained wings will not
allow him to take any trial flights unaided by his natural guardian. For
the beginning violinist the principal thing to do is to learn the 'voice
placing' of the violin. This goes hand in hand with the proper--which is
the easy and natural--manner of holding the violin, bow study, and an
appreciation of the acoustics of the instrument. The student's attention
should at once be called to the marvelous and manifold qualities of the
violin tone, and he should at once familiarize himself with the
development of those contrasts of stress and pressure, ease and
relaxation which are instrumental in its production. The analogies
between the violin voice and the human voice should also be developed.
The violin itself must to all intents become a part of the player
himself, just as the vocal chords are part of the human body. It should
not be considered a foreign tone-producing instrument adjusted to the
body of the performer; but an extension, a projection of his physical
self. In a way it is easier for the violinist to get at the chords of
the violin and make them sound, since they are all exposed, which is not
the case with the singer.
"There are two dangerous points in present-day standards of violin
teaching. One is represented by the very efficient European professional
standards of technic, which may result in an absolute failure of poetic
musical comprehension. These should not be transplanted here from
European soil. The other is the non-technical, sentimental, formless
species of teaching which can only result in emotional enervation. Yet
if forced to choose between the two the former would be preferable since
without tools it is impossible to carve anything of beauty. The final
beauty of the violin tone, the pure _legato_, remains in the beginning
as in the end a matter of holding the violin and bow. Together they
'place' the tone just as the physical _media_ in the throat 'place' the
tone of the voice.
"Piano teachers have made greater advances in the tone developing
technic of their instrument than the violin teachers. One reason is,
that as a class they are more intellectual. And then, too, violin
teaching is regarded too often as a mystic art, an occult science, and
one into which only those specially gifted may hope to be initiated.
This, it seems to me, is a fallacy. Just as a gift for mathematics is a
special talent not given to all, so a _natural_ technical talent exists
in relatively few people. Yet this does not imply that the majority are
shut off from playing the violin and playing it well. Any student who
has music in his soul may be taught to play simple, and even relatively
more difficult music with beauty, beauty of expression and
interpretation. This he may be taught to do even though not endowed with
a _natural_ technical facility for the violin. A proof that natural
technical facility is anything but a guarantee of higher musicianship is
shown in that the musical weakness of many brilliant violinists, hidden
by the technical elaboration of virtuoso pieces, is only apparent when
they attempt to play a Beethoven _adagio_ or a simple Mozart _rondo_.
"In a number of cases the unsuccessful solo player has a bad effect on
violin teaching. Usually the soloist who has not made a success as a
concert artist takes up teaching as a last resort, without enthusiasm or
the true vocational instinct. The false standards he sets up for his
pupils are a natural result of his own ineffectual worship of the fetish
of virtuosity--those of the musical mountebank of a hundred years ago.
Of course such false prophets of the virtuose have nothing in common
with such high-priests of public utterance as Ysaye, Kreisler and
others, whose virtuosity is a true means for the higher development of
the musical. The encouragement of musicianship in general suffers for
the stress laid on what is obviously technical _impedimenta_. But more
and more, as time passes, the playing of such artists as those already
mentioned, and others like them, shows that the real musician is the
lover of beautiful sound, which technic merely develops in the highest
degree.
"To-day technic in a cumulative sense often is a confession of failure.
For technic does not do what it so often claims to--produce the artist.
Most professional teaching aims to prepare the student for professional
life, the concert stage. Hence there is an intensive _technical_ study
of compositions that even if not wholly intended for display are
primarily and principally projected for its sake. It is a well-known
fact that few, even among gifted players, can sit down to play chamber
music and do it justice. This is not because they cannot grasp or
understand it; or because their technic is insufficient. It is because
their whole violinistic education has been along the line of solo
playing; they have literally been brought up, not to play _with_ others,
but to be accompanied _by_ others.
"Yet despite all this there has been a notable development of violin
study in the direction of _ensemble_ work with, as a result, an attitude
on the part of the violinists cultivating it, of greater humility as
regards music in general, a greater appreciation of the charm of
artistic collaboration: and--I insist--a technic both finer and more
flexible. Chamber music--originally music written for the intimate
surroundings of the home, for a small circle of listeners--carries out
in its informal way many of the ideals of the larger orchestral
_ensemble_. And, as regards the violinist, he is not dependent only on
the literature of the string quartet; there are piano quintets and
quartets, piano trios, and the duos for violin and piano. Some of the
most beautiful instrumental thoughts of the classic and modern
composers are to be found in the duo for violin and piano, mainly in the
sonata form. Amateurs--violinists who love music for its own sake, and
have sufficient facility to perform such works creditably--do not do
nearly enough _ensemble_ playing with a pianist. It is not always
possible to get together the four players needed for the string quartet,
but a pianist is apt to be more readily found.
"The combination of violin and piano is as a rule obtainable and the
literature is particularly rich. Aside from sonatas by Corelli,
Locatelli, Tartini, Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Haendel, Brahms and
Schumann, nearly all the romantic and modern composers have contributed
to it. And this music has all been written so as to show the character
of each instrument at its best--the piano, harmonic in its nature; the
violin, a natural melodic voice, capable of every shade of _nuance_."
That Mr. Mannes, as an artist, has made a point of "practicing what he
preaches" to the student as regards the _ensemble_ of violin and piano
will be recalled by all who have enjoyed the 'Sonata Recitals' he has
given together with Mrs. Mannes. And as an interpreting solo artist his
views regarding the moot question of gut _versus_ wire strings are of
interest.
GUT VERSUS WIRE STRINGS
"My own violin, a Maggini of more than the usual size, dates from the
year 1600. It formerly belonged to Dr. Leopold Damrosch. Which strings
do I use on it? The whole question as to whether gut or wire strings are
to be preferred may, in my opinion, be referred to the violin itself for
decision. What I mean is that if Stradivarius, Guarnerius, Amati,
Maggini and others of the old-master builders of violins had ever had
wire strings in view, they would have built their fiddles in accordance,
and they would not be the same we now possess. First of all there are
scientific reasons against using the wire strings. They change the tone
of the instrument. The rigidity of tension of the wire E string where it
crosses the bridge tightens up the sound of the lower strings. Their
advantages are: reliability under adverse climatic conditions and the
incontestable fact that they make things easier technically. They
facilitate purity of intonation. Yet I am willing to forgo these
advantages when I consider the wonderful pliability of the gut strings
for which Stradivarius built his violins. I can see the artistic
retrogression of those who are using the wire E, for when materially
things are made easier, spiritually there is a loss.
CHIN RESTS
"And while we are discussing the physical aspects of the instrument
there is the 'chin rest.' None of the great violin makers ever made a
'chin rest.' Increasing technical demands, sudden pyrotechnical flights
into the higher octaves brought the 'chin rest' into being. The 'chin
rest' was meant to give the player a better grasp of his instrument. I
absolutely disapprove, in theory, of chin rest, cushion or pad.
Technical reasons may be adduced to justify their use, never artistic
ones. I admit that progress in violin study is infinitely slower without
the use of the pad; but the more close and direct a contact with his
instrument the player can develop, the more intimately expressive his
playing becomes. Students with long necks and thin bodies claim they
have to use a 'chin rest,' but the study of physical adjustments could
bring about a better coördination between them and the instrument. A
thin pad may be used without much danger, yet I feel that the thicker
and higher the 'chin rest' the greater the loss in expressive rendering.
The more we accustom ourselves to mechanical aids, the more we will come
to rely on them.... But the question you ask anent 'Violin Mastery'
leads altogether away from the material!
VIOLIN MASTERY
"To me it signifies technical efficiency coupled with poetic insight,
freedom from conventionally accepted standards, the attainment of a more
varied personal expression along individual lines. It may be realized,
of course, only to a degree, since the possessor of absolute 'Violin
Mastery' would be forever glorified. As it is the violin master, as I
conceive him, represents the embodier of the greatest intimacy between
himself, the artist, and his medium of expression. Considered in this
light Pablo Casals and his 'cello, perhaps, most closely comply with the
requirements of the definition. And this is not as paradoxical as it may
seem, since all string instruments are brethren, descended from the
ancient viol, and the 'cello is, after all, a variant of the violin!"
XIV
TIVADAR NACHÉZ
JOACHIM AND LÉONARD AS TEACHERS
Tivadar Nachéz, the celebrated violin virtuoso, is better known as a
concertizing artist in Europe, where he has played with all the leading
symphonic orchestras, than in this country, to which he paid his first
visit during these times of war, and which he was about to leave for his
London home when the writer had the pleasure of meeting him. Yet, though
he has not appeared in public in this country (if we except some Red
Cross concerts in California, at which he gave his auditors of his best
to further our noblest war charity), his name is familiar to every
violinist. For is not Mr. Nachéz the composer of the "Gypsy Dances" for
violin and piano, which have made him famous?
Genuinely musical, effective and largely successful as they have been,
however, as any one who has played them can testify, the composer of
the "Gypsy Dances" regards them with mixed feelings. "I have done other
work that seems to me, relatively, much more important," said Mr.
Nachéz, "but when my name happens to be mentioned, echo always answers
'Gypsy Dances,' my little rubbishy 'Gypsy Dances!' It is not quite fair.
I have published thirty-five works, among them a 'Requiem Mass,' an
orchestral overture, two violin concertos, three rhapsodies for violin
and orchestra, variations on a Swiss theme, Romances, a Polonaise
(dedicated to Ysaye), and Evening Song, three _Poèmes hongrois_, twelve
classical masterworks of the 17th century--to say nothing of songs,
etc.--and the two concertos of Vivaldi and Nardini which I have edited,
practically new creations, owing to the addition of the piano
accompaniments and orchestral score. I wrote the 'Gypsy Dances' as a
mere boy when I was studying with H. Léonard in Paris, and really at his
suggestion. In one of my lessons I played Sarasate's 'Spanish Dances,'
which chanced to be published at the time, and at once made a great hit.
So Léonard said to me: 'Why not write some _Hungarian_ Gypsy
dances--there must be wonderful material at hand in the music of the
_Tziganes_ of Hungary. You should do something with it!' I took him at
his word, and he liked my 'Dances' so well that he made me play them at
his musical evenings, which he gave often during the winter, and which
were always attended by the musical _Tout Paris!_ I may say that during
these last thirty years there has been scarcely a violinist before the
public who at one time or the other has _not_ played these 'Gypsy
Dances.' Besides the _original_ edition, there are two (pirated!)
editions in America and six in Europe.
[Illustration: TIVADAR NACHÉZ, with hand-written note]
THE BEGINNING OF A VIOLINISTIC CAREER: PLAYING WITH LISZT
"No, Léonard was not my first teacher. I took up violin work when a boy
of five years of age, and for seven years practiced from eight to ten
hours a day, studying with Sabathiel, the leader of the Royal Orchestra
in Budapest, where I was born, though England, the land of my adoption,
in which I have lived these last twenty-six years, is the land where I
have found all my happiness, and much gratifying honor, and of which I
have been a devoted, ardent and loyal naturalized citizen for more than
a quarter of a century. Sabathiel was an excellent routine teacher, and
grounded me well in the fundamentals--good tone production and
technical control. Later I had far greater teachers, and they taught me
much, but--in the last analysis, most of the little I have achieved I
owe to myself, to hard, untiring work: I had determined to be a
violinist and I trust I became one. No serious student of the instrument
should ever forget that, no matter who his teacher may be, he himself
must supply the determination, the continued energy and devotion which
will lead him to success.
"Playing with Liszt--he was an intimate friend of my father--is my most
precious musical recollection of Budapest. I enjoyed it a great deal
more than my regular lesson work. He would condescend to play with me
some evenings and you can imagine what rare musical enjoyment, what
happiness there was in playing with such a genius! I was still a boy
when with him I played the Grieg F major sonata, which had just come
fresh from the press. He played with me the D minor sonata of Schumann
and introduced me to the mystic beauties of the Beethoven sonatas. I can
still recall how in the Beethoven C minor sonata, in the first movement,
Liszt would bring out a certain broken chromatic passage in the left
hand, with a mighty _crescendo_, an effect of melodious thunder, of
enormous depth of tone, and yet with the most exquisite regard for the
balance between the violin and his own instrument. And there was not a
trace of condescension in his attitude toward me; but always
encouragement, a tender affectionate and paternal interest in a young
boy, who at _that moment_ was a brother artist.
"Through Liszt I came to know the great men of Hungarian music of that
time: Erkel, Hans Richter, Robert Volkmann, Count Geza Zichy, and
eventually I secured a scholarship, which the King had founded for
music, to study with Joachim in Berlin, where I remained nearly three
years. Hubay was my companion there; but afterward we separated, he
going to Vieuxtemps, while I went to Léonard.
JOACHIM AS A TEACHER AND INTERPRETER
"Joachim was, perhaps, the most celebrated teacher of his time. Yet it
is one of the greatest ironies of fate that when he died there was not
one of his pupils who was considered by the German authorities 'great'
enough to take the place the Master had held. Henri Marteau, who was
not his pupil, and did not even exemplify his style in playing, was
chosen to succeed him! Henri Petri, a Vieuxtemps pupil who went to
Joachim, played just as well when he came to him as when he left him.
The same might be said of Willy Burmester, Hess, Kes and Halir, the
latter one of those Bohemian artists who had a tremendous 'Kubelik-like'
execution. Teaching is and always will be a special gift. There are many
minor artists who are wonderful 'teachers,' and _vice versa_!
"Yet if Joachim may be criticized as regards the way of imparting the
secrets of technical phases in his violin teaching, as a teacher of
interpretation he was incomparable! As an interpreter of Beethoven and
of Bach in particular, there has never been any one to equal Joachim.
Yet he never played the same Bach composition twice in the same way. We
were four in our class, and Hubay and I used to bring our copies of the
sonatas with us, to make marginal notes while Joachim played to us, and
these instantaneous musical 'snapshots' remain very interesting. But no
matter how Joachim played Bach, it was always with a big tone, broad
chords of an organ-like effect. There is no greater discrepancy than the
edition of the Bach sonatas published (since his death) by Moser, and
which is supposed to embody Joachim's interpretation. Sweeping chords,
which Joachim always played with the utmost breadth, are 'arpeggiated'
in Moser's edition! Why, if any of his pupils had ever attempted to
play, for instance, the end of the _Bourée_ in the B minor _Partita_ of
Bach _à la Moser_, Joachim would have broken his bow over their heads!
STUDYING WITH LÉONARD
"After three years' study I left Joachim and went to Paris. Liszt had
given me letters of introduction to various French artists, among them
Saint-Saëns. One evening I happened to hear Léonard play Corelli's _La
Folia_ in the _Salle Pleyel_, and the liquid clarity and beauty of his
tone so impressed me that I decided I must study with him. I played for
him and he accepted me as a pupil. I am free to admit that my tone,
which people seem to be pleased to praise especially, I owe entirely to
Léonard, for when I came to him I had the so-called 'German tone' (_son
allemand_), of a harsh, rasping quality, which I tried to abandon
absolutely. Léonard often would point to his ears while teaching and
say: '_Ouvrez vos oreilles: écoutéz la beauté du son!_' ('Open your
ears, listen for beauty of sound!'). Most Joachim pupils you hear
(unless they have reformed) attack a chord with the nut of the bow, the
German method, which unduly stresses the attack. Léonard, on the
contrary, insisted with his pupils on the attack being made with such
smoothness as to be absolutely unobtrusive. Being a nephew of Mme.
Malibran, he attached special importance to the 'singing' tone, and
advised his pupils to hear great singers, to _listen_ to them, and to
try and reproduce their _bel canto_ on the violin.
"He was most particular in his observance of every _nuance_ of shading
and expression. He told me that when he played Mendelssohn's concerto
(for the first time) at the Leipsic _Gewandhaus_, at a rehearsal,
Mendelssohn himself conducting, he began the first phrase with a full
_mezzo-forte_ tone. Mendelssohn laid his hand on his arm and said: 'But
it begins _piano!_' In reply Léonard merely pointed with his bow to the
score--the _p_ which is now indicated in all editions had been omitted
by some printer's error, and he had been quite within his rights in
playing _mezzo-forte_.
"Léonard paid a great deal of attention to scales and the right way to
practice them. He would say, _'Il faut filer les sons: c'est l'art des
maîtres_. ('One must spin out the tone: that is the art of the
masters.') He taught his pupils to play the scales with long, steady
bowings, counting sixty to each bow. Himself a great classical
violinist, he nevertheless paid a good deal of attention to _virtuoso_
pieces; and always tried to prepare his pupils for _public life_. He had
all sorts of wise hints for the budding concert artist, and was in the
habit of saying: 'You must plan a program as you would the _ménu_ of a
dinner: there should be something for every one's taste. And,
especially, if you are playing on a long program, together with other
artists, offer nothing indigestible--let _your_ number be a relief!'
SIVORI
"While studying with Léonard I met Sivori, Paganini's only pupil (if we
except Catarina Caleagno), for whom Paganini wrote a concerto and six
short sonatas. Léonard took me to see him late one evening at the _Hôtel
de Havane_ in Paris, where Sivori was staying. When we came to his room
we heard the sound of slow scales, beautifully played, coming from
behind the closed door. We peered through the keyhole, and there he sat
on his bed stringing his scale tones like pearls. He was a little chap
and had the tiniest hands I have ever seen. Was this a drawback? If so,
no one could tell from his playing; he had a flawless technic, and a
really pearly quality of tone. He was very jolly and amiable, and he and
Léonard were great friends, each always going to hear the other whenever
he played in concert. My four years in Paris were in the main years of
storm and stress--plain living and hard, very hard, concentrated work. I
gave some accompanying lessons to help keep things going. When I left
Paris I went to London and then began my public life as a concert
violinist.
GREAT MOMENTS IN AN ARTIST'S LIFE
"What is the happiest remembrance of my career as a _virtuoso_? Some of
the great moments in my life as an artist? It is hard to say. Of course
some of my court appearances before the crowned heads of Europe are dear
to me, not so much because they were _court_ appearances, but because of
the graciousness and appreciation of the highly placed personages for
whom I played.
"Then, what I count a signal honor, I have played no less than _three_
times as a solo artist with the Royal Philharmonic Society of London,
the oldest symphonic society in Europe, for whom Beethoven composed his
immortal IXth symphony (once under Sir Arthur Sullivan's baton; once
under that of Sir A.C. Mackenzie, and once with Sir Frederick Cowen as
conductor--on this last occasion I was asked to introduce my new Second
concerto in B minor, Op. 36, at the time still in ms.) Then there is
quite a number of great conductors with whom I have appeared, a few
among them being Liszt, Rubinstein, Brahms, Pasdeloup, Sir August Manns,
Sir Charles Hallé, L. Mancinelli, Weingartner and Hans Richter, etc.
Perhaps, as a violinist, what I like best to recall is that as a boy I
was invited by Richter to go with him to Bayreuth and play at the
foundation of the Bayreuth festival theater, which however my parents
would _not_ permit owing to my tender age. I also remember with pleasure
an episode at the famous Pasdeloup Concerts in the _Cirque d'hiver_ in
Paris, on an occasion when I performed the F sharp minor concerto of
Ernst. After I had finished, two ladies came to the green room: they
were in deep mourning, and one of them greatly moved, asked me to 'allow
her to thank me' for the manner in which I had played this
concerto--she sai
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