Chapter 6

"I do not believe that any artist is truly a master of his instrument unless his control of it is an integral part of a whole. The musician is born--his medium of expression is often a matter of accident. I believe one may be intended for an artist prenatally; but whether violinist, 'cellist or pianist is partly a matter of circumstance. Violin mastery, to my mind, still falls short of perfection, in spite of the completest technical and musical equipment, if the artist thinks only of the instrument he plays. After all, it is just a single medium of expression. The true musician is an artist with a special instrument. And every real artist has the feeling for other forms and mediums of expression if he is truly a master of his own.

TECHNIC VERSUS IMAGINATION

"I think the technical element in the artist's education is often unduly stressed. Remember," added Mr. Kreisler, with a smile, "I am not a teacher, and this is a purely personal opinion I am giving you. But it seems to me that absolute sincerity of effort, actual impossibility _not_ to react to a genuine musical impulse are of great importance. I firmly believe that if one is destined to become an artist the technical means find themselves. The necessity of expression will follow the line of least resistance. Too great a manual equipment often leads to an exaggeration of the technical and tempts the artist to stress it unduly.

"I have worked a great deal in my life, but have always found that too large an amount of purely technico-musical work fatigued me and reacted unfavorably on my imagination. As a rule I only practice enough to keep my fingers in trim; the nervous strain is such that doing more is out of the question. And for a concert-violinist when on tour, playing every day, the technical question is not absorbing. Far more important is it for him to keep himself mentally and physically fresh and in the right mood for his work. For myself I have to enjoy whatever I play or I cannot play it. And it has often done me more good to dip my finger-tips in hot water for a few seconds before stepping out on the platform than to spend a couple of hours practicing. But I should not wish the student to draw any deductions from what I say on this head. It is purely personal and has no general application.

"Technical exercises I use very moderately. I wish my imagination to be responsive, my interest fresh, and as a rule I have found that too much work along routine channels does not accord with the best development of my Art. I feel that technic should be in the player's head, it should be a mental picture, a sort of 'master record.' It should be a matter of will power to which the manual possibilities should be subjected. Technic to me is a mental and not a manual thing.

MENTAL TECHNIC: ITS DRAWBACK AND ITS ADVANTAGE

"The technic thus achieved, a technic whose controlling power is chiefly mental, is not perfect--I say so frankly--because it is more or less dependent on the state of the artist's nervous system. Yet it is the one and only kind of technic that can adequately and completely express the musician's every instinct, wish and emotion. Every other form of technic is stiff, unpliable, since it cannot entirely subordinate itself to the individuality of the artist."

PRACTICE HOURS FOR THE ADVANCED STUDENT

Mr. Kreisler gives no lessons and hence referred this question in the most amiable manner to his boyhood friend and fellow-student Felix Winternitz, the well-known Boston violin teacher, one of the faculty of the New England Conservatory of Music, who had come in while we were talking. Mr. Winternitz did not refuse an answer: "The serious student, in my opinion, should not practice less than four hours a day, nor need he practice more than five. Other teachers may demand more. Sevčik, I know, insists that his pupils practice eight and ten hours a day. To do so one must have the constitution of an ox, and the results are often not equal to those produced by four hours of concentrated work. As Mr. Kreisler intimated with regard to technic, practice calls for brain power. Concentration in itself is not enough. There is only one way to work and if the pupil can find it he can cover the labor of weeks in an hour."

And turning to me, Mr. Winternitz added: "You must not take Mr. Kreisler too seriously when he lays no stress on his own practicing. During the concert season he has his violin in hand for an hour or so nearly every day. He does not call it practicing, and you and I would consider it playing and great playing at that. But it is a genuine illustration of what I meant when I said that one who knew how could cover the work of weeks in an hour's time."

AN EXPLANATION BY MR. WINTERNITZ

I tried to draw from the famous violinist some hint as to the secret of the abiding popularity of his own compositions and transcripts but--as those who know him are aware--Kreisler has all the modesty of the truly great. He merely smiled and said: "Frankly, I don't know." But Mr. Winternitz' comment (when a 'phone call had taken Kreisler from the room for a moment) was, "It is the touch given by his accompaniments that adds so much: a harmonic treatment so rich in design and coloring, and so varied that melodies were never more beautifully set off." Mr. Kreisler, as he came in again, remarked: "I don't mind telling you that I enjoyed very much writing my _Tambourin Chinois_.[A] The idea for it came to me after a visit to the Chinese theater in San Francisco--not that the music there suggested any theme, but it gave me the impulse to write a free fantasy in the Chinese manner."

[Footnote A: It is interesting to note that Nikolai Sokoloff, conductor of the San Francisco Philharmonic, returning from a tour of the American and French army camps in France, some time ago, said: "My most popular number was Kreisler's _Tambourin Chinois_. Invariably I had to repeat that." A strong indorsement of the internationalism of Art by the actual fighter in the trenches.]

STYLE, INTERPRETATION AND THE ARTISTIC IDEAL

The question of style now came up. "I am not in favor of 'labeling' the concert artist, of calling him a 'lyric' or a 'dramatic' or some other kind of a player. If he is an artist in the real sense he controls all styles." Then, in answer to another question: "Nothing can express music but music itself. Tradition in interpretation does not mean a cut-and-dried set of rules handed down; it is, or should be, a matter of individual sentiment, of inner conviction. What makes one man an artist and keeps another an amateur is a God-given instinct for the artistically and musically right. It is not a thing to be explained, but to be felt. There is often only a narrow line of demarcation between the artistically right and wrong. Yet nearly every real artist will be found to agree as to when and when not that boundary has been overstepped. Sincerity and personality as well as disinterestedness, an expression of himself in his art that is absolutely honest, these, I believe, are ideals which every artist should cherish and try to realize. I believe, furthermore, that these ideals will come more and more into their own; that after the war there will be a great uplift, and that Art will realize to the full its value as a humanizing factor in life." And as is well known, no great artist of our day has done more toward the actual realization of these ideals he cherishes than Fritz Kreisler himself.

X

FRANZ KNEISEL

THE PERFECT STRING ENSEMBLE

Is there a lover of chamber music unfamiliar with Franz Kneisel's name? It may be doubted. After earlier European triumphs the gifted Roumanian violinist came to this country (1885), and aside from his activities in other directions--as a solo artist he was the first to play the Brahms and Goldmark violin concertos, and the César Franck sonata in this country--organized his famous quartet. And, until his recent retirement as its director and first violin, it has been perhaps the greatest single influence toward stimulating appreciation for the best in chamber music that the country has known. Before the Flonzaley was, the Kneisels were. They made plain how much of beauty the chamber music repertory offered the amateur string player; not only in the classic repertory--Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Spohr; in Schubert, Schumann, Brahms; but in Smetana, Dvořák and Tschaikovsky; in César Franck, Debussy and Ravel. Not the least among Kneisel's achievements is, that while the professional musicians in the cities in which his organization played attended its concerts as a matter of course, the average music lover who played a string instrument came to them as well, and carried away with him a message delivered with all the authority of superb musicianship and sincerity, one which bade him "go and do likewise," in so far as his limitations permitted. And the many excellent professional chamber music organizations, trios, quartets and _ensembles_ of various kinds which have come to the fore since they began to play offer eloquent testimony with regard to the cultural work of Kneisel and his fellow artists.

A cheery grate fire burned in the comfortable study in Franz Kneisel's home; the autographed--in what affectionate and appreciative terms--pictures of great fellow artists looked down above the book-cases which hold the scores of those masters of what has been called "the noblest medium of music in existence," whose beauties the famous quartet has so often disclosed on the concert stage. And Mr. Kneisel was amiability personified when I asked him to give me his theory of the perfect string _ensemble_, and the part virtuosity played in it.

"THE ARTIST RANKS THE VIRTUOSO IN CHAMBER MUSIC"

"The artist, the _Tonkünstler_, to use a foreign phrase, ranks the virtuoso in chamber music. Joachim was no virtuoso, he did not stress technic, the less important factor in _ensemble_ playing. Sarasate was a virtuoso in the best sense of the word; and yet as an _ensemble_ music player he fell far short of Joachim. As I see it 'virtuoso' is a kind of flattering title, no more. But a _Tonkünstler_, a 'tone-artist,' though he must have the virtuoso technic in order to play Brahms and Beethoven concertos, needs besides a spiritual insight, a deep concept of their nobility to do them justice--the mere technic demanded for a virtuoso show piece is not enough.

VIOLIN MASTERY IN THE STRING QUARTET

"You ask me what 'Violin Mastery' means in the string quartet. It has an altogether different meaning to me, I imagine, than to the violin virtuoso. Violin mastery in the string _ensemble_ is as much mastery of self as of technical means. The artist must sink his identity completely in that of the work he plays, and though the last Beethoven quartets are as difficult as many violin concertos, they are polyphony, the combination and interweaving of individual melodies, and they call for a mastery of repression as well as expression. I realized how keenly alive the musical listener is to this fact once when our quartet had played in Alma-Tadema's beautiful London home, for the great English painter was also a music-lover and a very discriminating one. He had a fine piano in a beautifully decorated case, and it was an open secret that at his musical evenings, after an artist had played, the lid of the piano was raised, and Sir Lawrence asked him to pencil his autograph on the soft white wood of its inner surface--_but only if he thought the compliment deserved_. There were some famous names written there--Joachim, Sarasate, Paderewski, Neruda, Piatti, to mention a few. Naturally an artist playing at Alma-Tadema's home for the first time could not help speculating as to his chances. Many were called, but comparatively few were chosen. We were guests at a dinner given by Sir Lawrence. There were some fifty people prominent in London's artistic, musical and social world present, and we had no idea of being asked to play. Our instruments were at our hotel and we had to send for them. We played the Schubert quartet in A minor and Dvořák's 'American' quartet and, of course, my colleagues and myself forgot all about the piano lid the moment we began to play. Yet, I'm free to confess, that when the piano lid was raised for us we appreciated it, for it was no empty compliment coming from Sir Lawrence, and I have been told that some very distinguished artists have not had it extended to them. And I know that on that evening the phrase 'Violin Mastery' in an _ensemble_ sense, as the outcome of ceaseless striving for coördination in expression, absolute balance, and all the details that go to make up the perfect _ensemble_, seemed to us to have a very definite color and meaning.

THE FIRST VIOLIN IN THE STRING QUARTET

"What exactly does the first violin represent?" Mr. Kneisel went on in answer to another question. "The first violin might be called the chairman of the string meeting. His is the leading voice. Not that he should be an autocrat, no, but he must hold the reins of discipline. Many think that the four string players in a quartet have equal rights. First of all, and above all, are the rights of the composer, Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert,--as the case may be. But from the standpoint of interpretation the first violin has some seventy per cent. of the responsibility as compared with thirty per cent. for the remaining voices. In all the famous quartet organizations, Joachim, Hellmesberger, etc., the first violin has been the directing instrument and has set the pace. As chairman it has been his duty to say when second violin, viola and 'cello were entitled to hold the floor. Hellmesberger, in fact, considered himself the _whole_ quartet." Mr. Kneisel smiled and showed me a little book of Hellmesberger's Vienna programs. Each program was headed:

HELLMESBERGER QUARTET

with the assistance of

MESSRS. MATH. DURST, CARL HEISSLER, CARL SCHLESINGER

"In other words, Hellmesberger was the quartet himself, the other three artists merely 'assisted,' which, after all, is going too far!

"Of course, quartets differ. Just as we have operas in which the alto solo _rôle_ is the most important, so we have quartets in which the 'cello or the viola has a more significant part. Mozart dedicated quartets to a King of Prussia, who played 'cello, and he was careful to make the 'cello part the most important. And in Smetana's quartet _Aus meinem Leben_, the viola plays a most important rôle. Even the second violin often plays themes introducing principal themes of the first violin, and it has its brief moments of prominence. Yet, though the second violin or the 'cellist may be, comparatively speaking, a better player than the first violin, the latter is and must be the leader. Practically every composer of chamber music recognizes the fact in his compositions. He, the first violin, should not command three slaves, though; but guide three associates, and do it tactfully with regard to their individuality and that of their instruments.

"ENSEMBLE" REHEARSING

"You ask what are the essentials of _ensemble_ practice on the part of the artists? Real reverence, untiring zeal and punctuality at rehearsals. And then, an absolute sense of rhythm. I remember rehearsing a Volkmann quartet once with a new second violinist." [Mr. Kneisel crossed over to his bookcase and brought me the score to illustrate the rhythmic point in question, one slight in itself yet as difficult, perhaps, for a player without an absolute sense of rhythm as "perfect intonation" would be for some others.] "He had a lovely tone, a big technic and was a prize pupil of the Vienna Conservatory. We went over this two measure phrase some sixteen times, until I felt sure he had grasped the proper accentuation. And he was most amiable and willing about it, too. But when we broke up he pointed to the passage and said to me with a smile: 'After all, whether you play it _this_ way, or _that_ way, what's the difference?' Then I realized that he had stressed his notes correctly a few times by chance, and that his own sense of rhythm did not tell him that there were no two ways about it. The rhythmic and tonal _nuances_ in a quartet cannot be marked too perfectly in order to secure a beautiful and finished performance. And such a violinist as the one mentioned, in spite of his tone and technic, was never meant for an _ensemble_ player.

"I have never believed in a quartet getting together and 'reading' a new work as a preparation for study. As first violin I have always made it my business to first study the work in score, myself, to study it until I knew the whole composition absolutely, until I had a mental picture of its meaning, and of the interrelation of its four voices in detail. Thirty-two years of experience have justified my theory. Once the first violin knows the work the practicing may begin; for he is in a position gradually and tactfully to guide the working-out of the interpretation without losing time in the struggle to correct faults in balance which are developed in an unprepared 'reading' of the work. There is always one important melody, and it is easier to find it studying the score, to trace it with eye and mind in its contrapuntal web, than by making voyages of discovery in actual playing.

"Every player has his own qualities, every instrument its own advantages. Certain passages in a second violin or viola part may be technically better suited to the hand of the player, to the nature of the instrument, and--they will sound better than others. Yet from the standpoint of the composition the passages that 'lie well' are often not the more important. This is hard for the player--what is easy for him he unconsciously is inclined to stress, and he must be on his guard against it. This is another strong argument in favor of a thorough preliminary study on the part of the leading violin of the construction of the work."

THE FIRST VIOLIN IN CHAMBER MUSIC VERSUS THE ORCHESTRA CONDUCTOR

The comparison which I asked Mr. Kneisel to make is one which he could establish with authority. Aside from his experience as director of his quartet, he has been the _concert-meister_ of such famous foreign orchestras as Bilse's and that of the _Hofburg Theater_ in Vienna and, for eighteen years, of the Boston Symphony Orchestra in this country. He has also conducted over one hundred concerts of the Boston Symphony, and was director of the Worcester Music Festivals.

"Nikisch once said to me, after he had heard us play the Schumann A minor quartet in Boston: 'Kneisel, it was beautiful, and I felt that you had more difficulty in developing it than I have with an orchestral score!' And I think he was right. First of all the symphonic conductor is an autocrat. There is no appeal from the commands of his baton. But the first violin of a quartet is, in a sense, only the 'first among peers.' The velvet glove is an absolute necessity in his case. He must gain his art ends by diplomacy and tact, he must always remember that his fellow artists are solo players. If he is arbitrary, no matter how right he may be, he disturbs that fine feeling of artistic fellowship, that delicate balance of individual temperaments harmonized for and by a single purpose. In this connection I do not mind confessing that though I enjoy a good game of cards, I made it a rule never to play cards with my colleagues during the hours of railroad traveling involved in keeping our concert engagements. I played chess. In chess the element of luck does not enter. Each player is responsible for what he does or leaves undone. And defeat leaves no such sting as it does when all may be blamed on chance. In an _ensemble_ that strives for perfection there must be no undercurrents of regret, of dissatisfaction--nothing that interferes with the sympathy and good will which makes each individual artist do his best. And so I have never regretted giving cards the go-by!"

HINTS TO THE SERIOUS VIOLIN STUDENT

Of late years Mr. Kneisel's activity as a teacher has added to his reputation. Few teachers can point to a galaxy of artist pupils which includes such names as Samuel Gardner, Sascha Jacobsen, Breskin, Helen Jeffry and Olive Meade (who perpetuates the ideals of his great string _ensemble_ in her own quartet). "What is the secret of your method?" I asked him first of all. "Method is hardly the word," he told me. "It sounds too cut-and-dried. I teach according to principles, which must, of course, vary in individual cases; yet whose foundation is fixed. And like Joachim, or Leschetiszky, I have preparatory teachers.

THE GENERAL FAULT

"My experience has shown me that the fundamental fault of most pupils is that they do not know how to hold either the bow or the violin. Here in America the violin student as a rule begins serious technical study too late, contrary to the European practice. It is a great handicap to begin really serious work at seventeen or eighteen, when the flexible bones of childhood have hardened, and have not the pliability needed for violin gymnastics. It is a case of not bending the twig as you want the tree to grow in time. And those who study professionally are often more interested in making money as soon as possible than in bending all their energies on reaching the higher levels of their art. Many a promising talent never develops because its possessor at seventeen or eighteen is eager to earn money as an orchestra or 'job' player, instead of sacrificing a few years more and becoming a true artist. I've seen it happen time and again: a young fellow really endowed who thinks he can play for a living and find time to study and practice 'after hours.' And he never does!

"But to return to the general fault of the violin student. There is a certain angle at which the bow should cross the strings in order to produce those vibrations which give the roundest, fullest, most perfect tone [he took his own beautiful instrument out of its case to illustrate the point], and the violin must be so held that the bow moves straight across the strings in this manner. A deviation from the correct attack produces a scratchy tone. And it is just in the one fundamental thing: the holding of the violin in exactly the same position when it is taken up by the player, never varying by so much as half-an-inch, and the correct attack by the bow, in which the majority of pupils are deficient. If the violin is not held at the proper angle, for instance, it is just as though a piano were to stand on a sloping floor. Too many students play 'with the violin' on the bow, instead of holding the violin steady, and letting the bow play.

"And in beginning to study, this apparently simple, yet fundamentally important, principle is often overlooked or neglected. Joachim, when he studied as a ten-year-old boy under Hellmesberger in Vienna, once played a part in a concerto by Maurer, for four violins and piano. His teacher was displeased: 'You'll never be a fiddler!' he told him, 'you use your bow too stiffly!' But the boy's father took him to Böhm, and he remained with this teacher for three years, until his fundamental fault was completely overcome. And if Joachim had not given his concentrated attention to his bowing while there was still time, he would never have been the great artist he later became.

THE ART OF THE BOW