Chats to 'Cello Students

by Arthur Broadley

Up to the present chapter the student has been instructed how to interpret and perform that which he sees on the music sheet before him; to give a soulful and intelligent reading of any composition, he must look beyond the mere written notes, and see if it is not possible to discover some meaning, some effect which the composer has been unable to express in musical notation.

True music is conceived in the mind of the composer, in some more or less perfected form, before any attempt is made to transfer the ideas to paper. Of course each composer has his individual way of working, thus Beethoven never was without a note book in which he jotted down any bits of melody or any musical thought which occurred to his mind during his perambulations. Among these ideas may be found the leading themes from which some of his greatest compositions were afterwards developed. Mozart gives us an instance in the extreme opposite direction; it is stated that this wonderful composer carried the whole of a sonata for violin and pianoforte in his mind without a single note being transferred to paper, the composer taking part in a public performance of the same with only a duplicate of the violin copy at the pianoforte.

The student must keep in mind that the composer writes his thoughts; perhaps the reader is unable to conceive the difficulty of transferring to paper the musical thoughts which come unbidden to the mind; to write the notes is simplicity itself, but how impossible to write a melody so that every inflection of tone power, every slight change in tempo, and more than this the exact sentiment which the music should convey. To some people—perhaps to some players—music is merely the sounding of a variety of combinations of sounds, in various rhythms; it expresses nothing more than that. Emotion, sentiment, must not be given a place in the musician's vocabulary, anything which does not appeal solely to the intellect we are told to consider vulgar and sensual. Luckily for the string player these superior people are in a minority, the multitude are yet swayed, and to the end will continue to be moved by a melody sung or played from the heart.

Perhaps it is possible to find a parallel in art; one contemplates a beautiful geometrical design; clever, intricate, graceful, but how much better are we for its contemplation? Has it conveyed any truth? Is it possible to move a crowd either to tears or laughter? Is it possible to awaken either warlike or peaceful feelings in the breasts of the observers? How much greater to portray feelings than forms, thus a picture which depicts love, hatred, happiness, misery or gratitude, must be considered greater than a mere figure study. In landscape painting it is greater to reproduce living nature than mere studies of trees, sky, etc.; thus the painter who makes us see the driving snow, the rushing torrent, the beating rain, the fitful gleam of sunlight or even the passive stillness of the wood, conveys impressions to our minds, not only impressions of nature, but of certain states or moods of nature.

Compare some of the music by such as Romberg to that of Beethoven or Schumann; the first merely studies in sound, the latter brimful of thoughts, impressions, which appeal to the intellect of the performer, and test his musicianship by the manner in which they are expressed or overlooked.

The student should remember that all good music is composed with a strict observance of its effect on the listener; this does not mean that Beethoven wrote a scherzo for the sole purpose of causing people to feel jolly, any more than he wrote a funeral march or an adagio solely to make people sad. In all Beethoven's music, as in that of other great masters, the listener is purposely compelled to pass through various states of mind; where necessary the addition of a movement or section in quite a contrasting mood is purposely made, so that the mind of the listener is prepared for the ensuing movement. The composer writes what inspires him at the moment, but his greatness is shown in the manner in which these themes are contrasted and varied, so that the interest of the listener is sustained throughout the whole performance. This must be considered in the delivery of a musical composition. "It is the effect on the listener which one must constantly have in mind," no matter how turbulent are the feelings of the player, if the passion does not find its way into the delivery, the audience will be quite unaware of the fact. How is this to be accomplished? In reading aloud or reciting, if one only observes the ordinary rising and falling of the voice at the division of the periods, marks of interrogation, etc., it would be hardly possible to say that one read with expression. There is something more than this school boy elocution required; does not an orator hurry an impassioned passage, and drag a doleful one, does he not shout a command and whisper a tender sentence. So if the musician merely observes the rhythmical and dynamic effects, the performance may be correct, yet it will be void of soul, and of that force which carries along the hearer.

Exactly as in elocution, the performer must first grasp the intention of the composer before a soulful interpretation is possible; it is just this "conception," this grasp of the composer's meaning, this transforming of the groups of sound into a real living performance, which at once reveals the real genius. It is quite true that genius must be trained or it will fall into many errors and exaggerations, there are many who, guided by feeling alone, put such an amount of individuality and what is commonly termed expression into their performances, that the listener, led away by the rush of passion, overlooks the many errors with which the performance abounds. It is for the student to cultivate a style which shall satisfy the most refined tastes, at the same time infusing as much of his own personality and feeling into the delivery as the nature of the composition will admit. It is a difficult matter to give any absolute rules for the guidance of young players, let us, however, consider what constitutes a fine delivery.

The first essential is beauty of tone; it is recorded of Jenny Lind—an artist with a reputation more unique it would be difficult to find—that the quality of her voice was of such beauty that even the ordinary diatonic scale sung slowly, was enough to create the utmost enthusiasm. One writer describes the pleasure experienced from hearing the tone of her voice only, as that obtained by the sight of pure, brilliant colour; thousands who heard this great singer were melted to tears, even when the work was quite unintelligible to the majority of them; this was occasioned chiefly by the natural pathos in the tone of her voice, added to a personality as simple as sincere. The performer should always consider that "tone" is the fundamental matter with which he works; as a rule "tone" is generally thought to mean "big" tone, but this is not necessarily so; beautiful, sweet, brilliant tone should be the aim, big tone if possible, but never at the expense of quality, variety and phrasing.

The next matter of importance is a correct conception of tempo; as some writer has remarked, "it is possible to transform a scherzo into a funeral march by a wrong conception of tempo." This is a matter of great importance, but also a matter in which some of our finest players and conductors differ to an alarming extent. In the case of solo players this may be excused, as the tempo which may suit the characteristics of one player would perhaps be quite dull if adopted by a soloist with quite a different style. In the case of conductors, however, it is to be feared that much of this difference arises from a desire to be thought original, even at the expense of all tradition. In determining the tempo of a composition the character and general build of the work itself is the only guide.