The Project Gutenberg EBook of Violin Mastery, by Frederick H. Martens This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Violin Mastery Talks with Master Violinists and Teachers Author: Frederick H. Martens Release Date: April 4, 2005 [EBook #15535] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIOLIN MASTERY *** Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Peter Barozzi and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. EUGÈNE YSAYE 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 CHAPTER PAGE FOREWARD v I. EUGÈNE YSAYE The Tools of Violin Mastery 1 II. LEOPOLD AUER A Method without Secrets 14 III. EDDY BROWN Hubay and Auer: Technic: Hints to the Student 25 IV. MISCHA ELMAN Life and Color in Interpretation. Technical Phases 38 V. SAMUEL GARDNER Technic and Musicianship 54 VI. ARTHUR HARTMANN The Problem of Technic 66 VII. JASCHA HEIFETZ The Danger of Practicing Too Much. Technical Mastery and Temperament 78 VIII. DAVID HOCHSTEIN The Violin as a Means of Expression 91 IX. FRITZ KREISLER Personality in Art 99 X. FRANZ KNEISEL The Perfect String Ensemble 110 XI. ADOLFO BETTI The Technic of the Modern Quartet 127 XII. HANS LETZ The Technic of Bowing 140 XIII. DAVID MANNES The Philosophy of Violin Teaching 146 XIV. TIVADAR NACHÉZ Joachim and Léonard as Teachers 160 XV. MAXIMILIAN PILZER The Singing Tone and the Vibrato 177 XVI. MAUD POWELL Technical Difficulties: Some Hints for the Concert Player 183 XVII. LEON SAMETINI Harmonics 198 XVIII. ALEXANDER SASLAVSKY What the Teacher Can and Cannot Do 210 XIX. TOSCHA SEIDEL How to Study 219 XX. EDMUND SEVERN The Joachim Bowing and Others 227 XXI. ALBERT SPALDING The Most Important Factor in the Development of an Artist 240 XXII. THEODORE SPIERING The Application of Bow Exercises to the Study of Kreutzer 247 XXIII. JACQUES THIBAUD The Ideal Program 259 XXIV. 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 introduction 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." 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!" [TABLE OF CONTENTS] 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?" LEOPOLD AUER 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." [TABLE OF CONTENTS] 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.'" [TABLE OF CONTENTS] 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. MISCHA ELMAN 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...