Violin Mastery: Talks with Master Violinists and Teachers

"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].

"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."

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:

"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."

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.

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!"

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.

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 said: 'I am the widow of Ernst!' She also told me that since his death she had never heard the concerto played as I had played it! In presenting to me her companion, the Marquise de Gallifet (wife of the General de Gallifet who led the brigade of the Chasseurs d'Afrique in the heroic charge of General Margueritte's cavalry division at Sedan, which excited the admiration of the old king of Prussia), I had the honor of meeting the once world famous violinist Mlle. Millanollo, as she was before her marriage. Mme. Ernst often came to hear me play her late husband's music, and as a parting gift presented me with his beautiful 'Tourte' bow, and an autographed copy of the first edition of Ernst's transcription for solo violin of Schubert's 'Erlking.' It is so incredibly difficult to play with proper balance of melody and accompaniment—I never heard any one but Kubelik play it—that it is almost impossible. It is so difficult, in fact, that it should not be played!

VIOLINS AND STRINGS: SARASATE

"My violin? I am a Stradivarius player, and possess two fine Strads, though I also have a beautiful Joseph Guarnerius. Ysaye, Thibaud and Caressa, when they lunched with me not long ago, were enthusiastic about them. My favorite Strad is a 1716 instrument—I have used it for twenty-five years. But I cannot use the wire strings that are now in such vogue here. I have to have Italian gut strings. The wire E cuts my fingers, and besides I notice a perceptible difference in sound quality. Of course, wire strings are practical; they do not 'snap' on the concert stage. Speaking of strings that 'snap,' reminds me that the first time I heard Sarasate play the Saint-Saëns concerto, at Frankfort, he twice forgot his place and stopped. They brought him the music, he began for the third time and then—the E string snapped! I do not think any other than Sarasate could have carried off these successive mishaps and brought his concert to a triumphant conclusion. He was a great friend of mine and one of the most perfect players I have ever known, as well as one of the greatest grand seigneurs among violinists. His rendering of romantic works, Saint-Saëns, Lalo, Bruch, was exquisite—I have never, never heard them played as beautifully. On the other hand, his Bach playing was excruciating—he played Bach sonatas as though they were virtuoso pieces. It made one think of Hans von Bülow's mot when, in speaking of a certain famous pianist, he said: 'He plays Beethoven with velocity and Czerny with expression.' But to hear Sarasate play romantic music, his own 'Spanish Dances' for instance, was all like glorious birdsong and golden sunshine, a lark soaring heavenwards!

THE NARDINI CONCERTO IN A

"You ask about my compositions? Well, Eddy Brown is going to play my Second violin concerto, Op. 36 in B flat, which I wrote for the London Philharmonic Society, next season; Elman the Nardini concerto in A, which was published only shortly before the outbreak of the war. Thirty years ago I found, by chance, three old Nardini concertos for violin and bass in the composer's original ms., in Bologna. The best was the one in A—a beautiful work! But the bass was not even figured, and the task of reconstructing the accompaniment for piano, as well as for orchestra, and reverently doing justice to the composer's original intent and idea; while at the same time making its beauties clearly and expressively available from the standpoint of the violinist of to-day, was not easy. Still, I think I may say I succeeded." And Mr. Nachéz showed me some letters from famous contemporaries who had made the acquaintance of this Nardini concerto in A major. Auer, Thibaud, Sir Hubert Parry (who said that he had "infused the work with new life"), Pollak, Switzerland's ranking fiddler, Carl Flesch, author of the well-known Urstudien—all expressed their admiration. One we cannot forbear quoting a letter in part. It was from Ottokar Sevčik. The great Bohemian pedagogue is usually regarded as the apostle of mechanism in violin playing: as the inventor of an inexorably logical system of development, which stresses the technical at the expense of the musical. The following lines show him in quite a different light: