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 Cesar 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, Dvor·k and Tschaikovsky; in CÈsar Franck,
Debussy and Ravel. Not the least among Kneisel's achievements is, that
while the professional musicians in the cities in which his organization
played attended its concerts as a matter of course, the average music
lover who played a string instrument came to them as well, and carried
away with him a message delivered with all the authority of superb
musicianship and sincerity, one which bade him "go and do likewise," in
so far as his limitations permitted. And the many excellent professional
chamber music organizations, trios, quartets and _ensembles_ of various
kinds which have come to the fore since they began to play offer
eloquent testimony with regard to the cultural work of Kneisel and his
fellow artists.
[Illustration: FRANZ KNEISEL, with signature]
A cheery grate fire burned in the comfortable study in Franz Kneisel's
home; the autographed--in what affectionate and appreciative
terms--pictures of great fellow artists looked down above the book-cases
which hold the scores of those masters of what has been called "the
noblest medium of music in existence," whose beauties the famous quartet
has so often disclosed on the concert stage. And Mr. Kneisel was
amiability personified when I asked him to give me his theory of the
perfect string _ensemble_, and the part virtuosity played in it.
"THE ARTIST RANKS THE VIRTUOSO IN CHAMBER MUSIC"
"The artist, the _Tonk¸nstler_, 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 _Tonk¸nstler_, 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 Dvor·k'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 coˆrdination 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 _rÙle_ 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 rÙle. 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 Bˆhm, and he remained
with this teacher for three years, until his fundamental fault was
completely overcome. And if Joachim had not given his concentrated
attention to his bowing while there was still time, he would never have
been the great artist he later became.
THE ART OF THE BOW
"You see," he continued, "the secret of really beautiful violin playing
lies in the bow. A Blondin crossing Niagara finds his wire hard and firm
where he first steps on it. But as he progresses it vibrates with
increasing intensity. And as the tight-rope walker knows how to control
the vibrations of his wire, so the violinist must master the vibrations
of his strings. Each section of the string vibrates with a different
quality of tone. Most pupils think that a big tone is developed by
pressure with the bow--yet much depends on what part of the string this
pressure is applied. Fingering is an art, of course, but the great art
is the art of the bow, the 'art of bowing,' as Tartini calls it. When a
pupil understands it he has gone far.
"Every pupil may be developed to a certain degree without ever
suspecting how important a factor the manipulation of the bow will be in
his further progress. He thinks that if the fingers of his left hand are
agile he has gained the main end in view. But then he comes to a
stop--his left hand can no longer aid him, and he finds that if he wants
to play with real beauty of expression the bow supplies the only true
key. Out of a hundred who reach this stage," Mr. Kneisel went on, rather
sadly, "only some five or six, or even less, become great artists. They
are those who are able to control the bow as well as the left hand. All
real art begins with phrasing, and this, too, lies altogether in the
mastery of bow--the very soul of the violin!"
I asked Mr. Kneisel how he came to write his own "Advanced Exercises"
for the instrument. "I had an idea that a set of studies, in which each
single study presented a variety of technical figures might be a relief
from the exercises in so many excellent methods, where pages of scales
are followed by pages of arpeggios, pages of double-notes and so forth.
It is very monotonous to practice pages and pages of a single technical
figure," he added. "Most pupils simply will not do it!" He brought out a
copy of his "Exercises" and showed me their plan. "Here, for instance, I
have scales, trills, arpeggios--all in the same study, and the study is
conceived as a musical composition instead of a technical formula. This
is a study in finger position, with all possible bowings. My aim has
been to concentrate the technical material of a whole violin school in
a set of _Ètudes_ with musical interest."
And he showed me the second book of the studies, in ms., containing
exercises in every variety of scale, and trill, bowing, _nuance_, etc.,
combined in a single musical movement. This volume also contains his own
cadenza to the Beethoven violin concerto. In conclusion Mr. Kneisel laid
stress on the importance of the student's hearing the best music at
concert and recital as often as possible, and on the value and incentive
supplied by a musical atmosphere in the home and, on leaving him, I
could not help but feel that what he had said in our interview, his
reflections and observations based on an artistry beyond cavil, and an
authoritative experience, would be well worth pondering by every serious
student of the instrument. For Franz Kneisel speaks of what he knows.
XI
Violin Mastery